StarCrossed by Elizabeth C. Bunce

Author:Elizabeth C. Bunce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2011-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

There were workmen in the Lesser Court, so that evening’s entertainments were held in the Armory. Nobody had thought to modernize this room; it was Old Bryn Shaer, every inch: rusting shields and polearms on the stained walls; a massive iron cage of a chandelier; a great model landscape of Llyvraneth, left over from the last days when people had planned wars here. A fire blazed, flanked by life-sized marble Spear-Bearers of Zet, their stone hair flowing over their bare shoulders, naked bodies cleverly concealed behind their oblong shields.

Eptin Cwalo offered to walk me through the weapons displayed on the walls, but I declined, watching Daul instead. His moon charts were spread before him, but he seemed edgy and cold tonight, reading the fates of his fellow courtiers with less than his usual humor. When he predicted that Marlytt would have a fat husband and fat ugly children, her pale face reddened and her smile grew tight.

“I’m tired of this game. Let’s have another,” she said softly, pulling her hand away.

Something in Daul’s face went very hard. He bowed to Lady Lyll and Lord Antoch, who clapped politely, then, to my dismay, he headed in my direction. I looked around desperately — but Cwalo was all the way on the other side of the room, pointing out the features of one of the fencing swords to Phandre and Lord Cardom. I turned to cross back to where the Nemair now chatted with Lord Wellyth, but Daul sidestepped me, cornering me near the map table. From across the room, I saw Phandre’s gaze sharpen.

“What do you want?” I hissed. “People are staring.”

He bent over the model landscape, tapping his fingers on its rim. On the map, Gerse was a mass of gray bricks in the south; the river Oss a painted silver ribbon stretching from the city; the Carskadon Mountains, built up with lumps of plaster, rising like the spine of some beast. Purple and green markers made of painted lead sat in the corners of the board, along with tiny matching flags.

I leaned against the wall, waiting for him to say something. But he ignored me, playing with the figures, placing flags and men across the board — purple on Tratua, western Gelnir, near Breijardarl, matching the markers to the families here at Bryn Shaer. There was something calculating and concentrated about his focus on the map, and I watched his eye draw repeatedly to the southeastern quadrant.

When Daul still didn’t say anything, I picked up one of the green figures and tossed it into the air, catching it neatly. “What’s that ring you always wear?”

He looked up sharply. “A sudden interest in me? Perhaps our little game has gone to your head.”

“Some game,” I snapped, my voice low. “But fair’s fair. I bring you information all the time. Now I want some.”

“You bring me worthless information!”

I jumped, and looked to see if anyone had noticed. But everyone else was occupied on the other side of the room, listening to Lord Antoch tell some amusing story.

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