Steelflower by Lilith Saintcrow;Josh Z Carter

Author:Lilith Saintcrow;Josh Z Carter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Assassins, Magic, Action & Adventure, Fantasy Fiction, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Swordsmen, General, Elves
ISBN: 9781599986425
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Published: 2008-09-29T06:00:00+00:00

A Queen’s Plea

Darik drew the comb gently through my newly untangled hair just as a knock came at the door. “G’mai,” I said. “Maybe I can escape out the window.”

“Not until your arm is better.” To his credit, he merely sounded practical and unsurprised. “Enter, if it pleases you.” This was pitched loud enough to go through the door as he handed my comb over my shoulder. I sat on a three-legged Shainakh stool in front of the fireplace, basking in the warmth. “I shall finish this later. I may manage a braid or two, with some practice.”

I do not think I wish an amateur braiding my hair, princeling. I held my peace.

Vavakha carried in a tray with soup and fresh bread. “An’ good nooning to you, lady.” She lifted her chin slightly. The duel had given her a high opinion of me. “The Gemerh approach. Right glad they are too.”

I felt my lips pursing. “My thanks, Vavakha. Do you suppose I could throw myself in the harbor from here?”

She laughed, set the tray down and took the kafi-tray away. “I would not worry, lady. You are prettier than any of them, and fair with a blade too.” She winked, her triangular Shainakh face wrinkling with amusement. I sighed and looked at the soup. It was broth, as if I was an invalid.

I could not wait to set myself to a pot of mead. Or two. Or ten. “I thank you for the compliment.”

She straightened, self-consciously, starting to re-make the bed. I considered telling her not to bother, I would be crawling back into it as soon as I could. Twinsickness drains G’mai women. Twas difficult to move or think. I was still a trifle shaky, and exhausted by the effort of crossing the room. My fingers accomplished the first separation of my hair for a braid, quick habitual movements.

Darik looked as if he wished to say aught, visibly thought better of it. “Thank you,” he said gravely to the inngirl, who fluttered a little, tossing her red-brown hair back over her shoulder. I bit my lip.

Jealousy is not allowed, I told myself sternly. He will see his mistake soon enough.

Darik’s black eyes met mine. There is no comparison, K’li. His mental voice was shaded a little darker than his speaking voice, and had a peculiar flat quality—no echo, as if he spoke through a silk curtain. Inngirls do not interest me.

You are eavesdropping! I do not know which was worse, his reply—or the fact of his hearing my private thoughts.

He shook his head and staggered, his boots shushing over the hardwood floor. The inngirl was too busy pushing and pulling the bed into order to notice, but I did, and stared at him as he turned pale. My hair slipped through my fingers.

“Not so loud, Kaia’li.” He spoke in G’mai. I was becoming accustomed to hearing it again, the liquid cadences, sharp consonants. “You could be heard in the next city, if you wished to be.”

I began to braid again.

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