II: The Moonweed Lord

If only Kestrel could spend the rest of the day sleeping. The heat exhausted him, to say nothing of the stressful audience with the prince. Worst of all, an ache had begun pounding in the back of his skull.

This always happened after he cast his magic, which was why he tried to use as little of it as possible. Everyone expected a soldier magus to be weak, anyway.

To his dismay, Lady Dulmer wasn’t waiting outside. Now what? Where do I go? Back to the guest quarters, he supposed, but he didn’t yet trust his ability to find his way through the palace’s labyrinthine corridors.

“Excuse me, my lord.” The voice made Kestrel start. A servant had appeared, a young man with a coldly handsome face. “Lady Dulmer sent me to inform you that you’re to move from guest quarters to the official Circle apartments today. Furthermore, tonight His Highness is holding a banquet in your honor.”

“Sorry, wait, slow down.” Kestrel held up his hands, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. Why had the prince told him none of this? “Where did Lady Dulmer go?”

“She went to rest,” the servant said, but his matter-of-fact tone dismayed Kestrel further. It wasn’t even noon yet; why would anyone need to rest so early? Maybe that was how they did things at court, though.

Struggling to calm his racing nerves, Kestrel asked the servant, “So what am I supposed to be doing now?” He hoped he sounded authoritative, but the servant could probably smell the desperation in every word.

Indeed, Kestrel caught the flicker of scorn in the youth’s eyes before he held out a calling card. “Lady Dulmer left this with me. It seems you’re to meet Lord Torrance Dyneth for luncheon.”

“Lord Torrance Dyneth?”

The servant’s eyebrows rose, making Kestrel burn. This time, there was no mistaking the thin edge of condescension to his voice. “Lord Dyneth is the late Lady Shanneray’s bonded ministra. He requests your presence in the Garden of Prosperity at twelve sharp. Before then, you must change into something more appropriate for the occasion. Come along, my lord.”

The servant didn’t even look back to check he was following. Kestrel hurried afterward, feeling like he’d been spun through a powerful storm.

Maybe Lady Dulmer had the right idea. A little rest wouldn’t be unwelcome.

Unfortunately, the servant only gave him enough time to change into his duty uniform before leading him down a path behind the guest quarters. The servant kept a brisk pace, forcing Kestrel to work to keep up. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help sneaking glances at the blue expanse of the Senriver spreading to the west. From this distance, the buildings crowding the far bank were as small as chess pieces. The city of Azed Court might cradle the royal palace, but it seemed impossibly far away.

The servant ducked into a maze of private gardens, and the Senriver disappeared behind a wall of greenery. The rioting scents of flowers tickled his nose, but Kestrel tried in vain to pick out something else, anything, beneath them. A musk that would make his hackles rise. A sweetness that would stir desire.

Why he bothered, he didn’t know. The result never changed. He might as well be the same as this servant, except commoners possessed no aura whatsoever.

When the servant passed a wall of grapevines growing thick on a trellis, Kestrel found himself inside a cozy garden surrounded by fruit trees in full flower. A court ministra awaited at the table in the center. Kestrel fought the urge to sink into a bow; he was now a member of the Circle of Magi, and he bowed to no ministra.

Dressed in white mourning robes, the ministra looked like a ghost. His face was unpainted, though his caramel-hued skin glistened with scented oil. For jewelry, he wore heavy gold cuffs around his wrists, inlaid with sparkling topazes and diamonds. They were so formal they must have been his bonding ceremony set.

He was in full mourning, even though more than a month had passed. Already Kestrel had switched out the all-white regalia for a white band around his upper arm.

But he’d hardly known Mia Shanneray, while this man was her soul-bonded partner.

"Greetings, Lord Kestrel Knight," the man said, his voice soft and almost hoarse. "I am Lord Torrance Dyneth. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Dyneth," Kestrel said.

Some might think it strange that he'd never met his mother's bonded until now. But she had rarely come back to the Mountainlands, and when she did she came alone. Even her legitimate children had only met their father a couple of times.

The servant left after directing Kestrel to sit down, but two more took his place. They wore white vests and headwraps, and one held a parasol above Lord Dyneth’s head while the other waved a fan of peacock feathers. Kestrel tried not to stare at them, but he wished they'd go away.

“Do ignore them, my lord,” Lord Dyneth said. “They are Silent Servants.”

Before today, Kestrel had only read about the strange servants whose tongues were cut out to keep them from spilling their masters’ secrets. Lord Dyneth might have meant it as reassurance, but it only made him more uncomfortable.

More Silent Servants came, bringing food in courses. There was sparkling water infused with sweet-tart berries, a green salad drizzled with lemon juice, chilled cucumber-yogurt soup, and finely filleted raw fish with scallions. Despite himself, Kestrel ate ravenously; this light, refreshing fare was perfect for the heat.

Lord Dyneth said not a word as he took dainty bites, though his heavy-lidded eyes kept darting toward Kestrel. At last they finished the dessert course, a melon sorbet garnished with mint leaves, and the servants took away the plates while a new servant brought Lord Dyneth a long glass pipe shaped like whorls of wind. The servant supported the pipe as Lord Dyneth took slow draughts, sending pungent smoke coiling into the sky.

Kestrel struggled not to breathe through his nose. The smell made him lightheaded.

"Forgive me, Lord Knight. If you don't like it I'll put it away," Lord Dyneth slurred as he drew away from the pipe. "But I find moonweed quite relaxing, myself. Perhaps you ought to give it a try."

This is my mother's bonded? Kestrel thought, gripping his knees. A lazy, indolent, drug-addicted—

His aura thrashed, responding to his anger. Kestrel bit his lip and urged it to quiet.

"It keeps me from thinking, you know," Lord Dyneth went on, his voice dipping up and down as if he was sliding in and out of sleep. "Thinking too hard...about my dear lady...I did love her, you know. It's just, I never went to the castle...I regret that now, Mia. I just didn't want to take such a long journey to such a rustic place...you know I've never left Azed Court...don't judge me too hard, Lord Knight."

Kestrel had thought Lord Dyneth was mumbling to himself in a drug-induced haze, so hearing his own name startled him. "Ah—Lord Dyneth, I'm in no position to—"

"Our two little daughters, how I want to see them...I wrote to them, but is that enough? I worry, Lord Knight. Tell me what they're like. Lerette and Lira. I hear Lerette's a very active girl, she's probably going to become an energos, hmm? And Lira's nice and quiet, she might turn into a lovely ministra just like her father."

Lord Dyneth took another draught. "My lord," Kestrel said, straining to keep his voice even, "is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Mmmmm...hmmm..." Lord Dyneth gazed skyward. "No, more than that. What was it again?”

This is a waste of time, Kestrel thought, clenching his teeth. He ought to be preparing for tonight's banquet, not entertaining a drug addict. Could my mother really have loved someone like this?

How dare he. As if he had any right to judge.

"Ah, yes. I've got it." Suddenly Lord Dyneth waved away the servant with the pipe. Now his eyes held an alertness that hadn’t been there before. Kestrel sat straighter, heart thumping.

"My lady's death. What do you know of it, Lord Knight?"