The Misted Cliffs by Catherine Asaro

Author:Catherine Asaro
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LUNA
Published: 2005-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Mel went to the highest room of the Zephyr, a small tower west of the central Storm Tower. Its top floor had no furniture, no partitions, nothing but hanging gauze and windows open to the night. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, drew up her knees, rested her elbows on them, and put her head in her hands, the heels of her palms braced against her forehead. Moonlight flowed through the windows and silvered the room. It was so quiet here at the Castle of Clouds. She could hear only the keening of wind outside the tower.

They had been such fools. Of course Cobalt wouldn’t break the treaty he had signed with Harsdown and Aronsdale. When they combined forces, those two countries had the strongest army in the settled lands, one controlled by the House of Dawnfield. Cobalt would keep his promise not to attack—for as long as he honored the treaty, so too did it bind the House of Dawnfield. They had vowed they wouldn’t fight the House of Chamberlight. Her marriage was a sham, a brilliant ploy to neutralize the only military force that had a chance of defeating the Chamberlight army.

Mel lifted her head. She had to warn her father. But how? She realized now that if she took Smoke and fled, as she had originally intended, it would negate the treaty. Another Escar woman would have deserted her husband. She doubted any army could stand against a force led by an enraged Cobalt. And he would come for her. She had seen the possessive fire in his eyes this afternoon.

Her body had betrayed her. Mel wanted his touch even now, as she dreaded his plans. This was no untried youth writing pretty sonnets. She hated herself for setting Aron aside in her thoughts, but Cobalt stoked a fire within her that could consume her heart, even her soul.

She had to take action. But she had no recourse here, no allies, nothing. Cobalt had called her a mage queen. Although he didn’t believe his own words, they had truth. She had done little beyond inconsequential spells, but she descended from warrior mages. She had always assumed she would learn her skills over the years and use them for the good of the realms she and Aron would rule, he as king of Aronsdale and she as queen of Harsdown. She had imagined her days spent in scholarly pursuits, especially mathematics. No longer did she have those choices. She had to learn her abilities now and in ways she had never expected. Ways of violence.

Mel focused on the chamber around her, a squat cylinder, three dimensions instead of two, small for the top floor of a tower but huge compared to shapes she had used in the past. Power surged within her, erratic and unfocused. She couldn’t focus any spell. It might be the imperfect shape; the open windows and drapes marred its form. Probably had more to do with her lack of skill.

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