The Shattered Circle

8. A Hint of Fire

The Shira who emerged from Melody's room was a different woman entirely from the one I had dragged from Varys's tent. Oh, the bruising was still there, but a dress as blue as robin's eggs that hung from one shoulder, silk perfectly tailored to her, suited her so well that I almost forgot I was not looking at some highborn lady. Melody had helped her with her hair, combing and arranging that mahogany into a complicated bun held by a tortoise shell comb. The easy kindness had restored something of her strength. There was a brightness, an animation to her movements as she signed at Melody and even managed to smile slightly, that had been utterly absent in my presence.

Then they turned to head down the stairs towards me, and Shira hesitated at the top step.

The light in her eyes snuffed out at the sight of me. The loss of it reminded me of the sorrow of a gardener upon seeing their roses cut in the bud. But then again, who could blame her? To a Rusan priestess, I was the Devil incarnate.

It would have been much easier if, in that moment, I could have regretted my kindness, given as cruelly as it was. If I had leaned into my indifference, surely it would have stung less. Yet the thoughts of apple blossoms hurt me still, no matter how much I had steeled my resolve.

She hesitated again when our eyes met, as if she could see the endless ocean of grief.

"Lady Aleyr, how kind of you to join us." Melody's first instinct was diplomacy, to smooth things over.

My mood was still too sour for me to heed her efforts. "My presence has never been a kindness."

They reached me at the foot of the stairs and Melody shook her head despairingly. "You are as dour as ever, my lady. Here I was thinking we would take tea in the solar. Now I wonder if I should ban you from it." Behind her cheerful demeanor, I caught a current of worry. Normally the bitter side of me waned in influence when I entered the Winter Palace. It was my sanctum, after all.

Perhaps for an old friend's sake, I would temper myself. "Forgive me, Melody. It has been a difficult day."

Shira looked at me as if I had grown a second head. It took me a moment to figure out why, but the moment it clicked in my head, I almost laughed aloud.

I apologized to someone she thinks I think is beneath me.

I gestured towards the solar. "Shall we?"

Together, the three of us walked the narrow hall to the small, private dining room I preferred. It directly adjoined the kitchen, warmed by the ovens, and was far more comfortable than the greater dining hall used on the rare occasion I was forced to entertain guests of status. "So how did things go with Luka's little errand?" Melody asked.

"The Shadeclaw was paid the wergild. He and Luka swore a blood oath that their little quarrel was over."

Melody's delicate, ruby lips curved into a smile. "How fortunate for them that you were so diplomatic, Lady Aleyr," she said, apparently unconcerned by the idea of Shira hearing some of the Court's inner workings.

The tea service was already waiting for us. Instead of the silver traditional for Rusan nobles, it was simple ceramic, with a rich blue-green glaze added in the pattern of leaves. I reached for my cup, identifiable because of the chip to one side of the rim. "Neither side was pleased to be reminded of my position."

"Luka is a reasonable creature. Whatever ill feeling he might have will resolve pragmatically."

I grimaced as I poured Shira and Melody tea, serving them before myself. Again, I saw Shira's eyes widen slightly. "That is precisely what I am concerned about." I knew full well that I was irreplaceable, untouchable, but that protection did not necessarily extend to my household, if Luka ever decided to move against me. The idea of any of them hurt made the cold of my anger expand into midwinter.