“Not in her palace!” cried Rizu, shocked. “Not when there are so many women who look to her to keep them safe inside her walls. Sandry, how could you even say such a thing?”
“Because Fin kidnapped me inside these curst walls!” cried Sandry. She turned on Daja. “I tried to call you for help, but you were occupied.” There was a cruel tone in Sandry’s voice that cut Daja like a whip. “Luckily there are others who don’t shut me out of their new lives.”
“That’s not fair,” retorted Daja, her eyes stinging.
“Isn’t it?” demanded Sandry, hugging herself around the waist. Her eyes dripped tears onto the discarded overgown. “Maybe not, but it’s true all the same. Well, I’m not staying in this oversized cage one night longer. I’m not staying in this festering kaq cesspool of a country for so much more as a week. We’re going back to Landreg House today. Briar, Tris, and I are going back to Emelan as soon as we can pack up. You do as you like.” She glanced at Rizu and looked away. “You may come with us, Daja, and anyone who chooses to accompany you is welcome, but you had best decide fast.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You’ll always be my sister-saati,” she added more softly. “You’ll always be welcome in my home, wherever the trade winds take us both. But just remember: They won’t care if you prefer women to men if they can still isolate you and force you to sign a marriage contract written to bind a mage.” She glared at Rizu. “And since you’re a foreigner, Daja, I suppose you wouldn’t even have a liege lord to appeal to. You’d be trapped until the end of your days.”
Daja heard the door slam. Rizu had left the room.
“She didn’t know,” Daja said, defending her lover. “You didn’t have to be nasty.”
“Then I’ll apologize later,” Sandry replied. “If she comes.”
“Of course she will. I suppose she’ll take forever to pack,” Daja whispered, hoping that if she said it, it would be true. She looked at Sandry. “Would you please tell me what happened?” she asked, taking a load of folded scarves from a chair so she could sit down. “And don’t insult me anymore, Sandry. I didn’t turn Namornese just because I fell in love.”
An hour later, Daja slowly walked to Rizu’s rooms. She felt as if she had aged a hundred years. Suddenly all of the elegance around her looked like a mask for some cruel beast. She had to eye every man who passed her, asking herself if he had ever kidnapped a woman—or if he would, given the chance. Were all men like this?
No, she told herself firmly. Never Briar. Or Frostpine. Or Tris’s teacher Niko, or our sometimes teacher Crane, or Duke Vedris, or Dedicate Gorse, the temple cook. She doubted Ambros or Zhegorz would consider it, either. No, Daja, don’t be a fool. You know plenty of men who would never even think of pulling such a vile trick.
But here, well, I can’t be surprised at Fin. He’s always had the air of a horse fighting the rein. Some of the others I’ve met might do the same, if they dared to kidnap a mage. But they wouldn’t do it in the palace, for fear of the empress. Though somehow Fin thought she might actually turn a blind eye to it, if he succeeded. Who is a bigger idiot than the man who believes the lies he tells himself?
Quen might try such a kidnapping. He’d succeed if he did, but I don’t think we have to worry, because he’s obviously in love with Berenene. Jak, maybe? No, Jak’s too good-hearted at bottom. What a heap of ash this court is, and most of it clinkers at that. I guess Rizu’s too close to the empress to have ever looked over her shoulder for kidnappers.
Her heart thudded in her chest. It’s trying to drown out that question in my mind. I thought I’d have all summer to work on her before having to ask. I thought we could build something solid in that time, when all we have is something new. I wish we’d had more time to fuse together!
Wishes are toys your mind plays with while pirates sneak up behind. That had been one of her aunt Hulweme’s favorite sayings, ghost words from an aunt seven years dead.
Daja shook her head to clear it. I never liked Aunt Hulweme, she thought as she rapped on Rizu’s door.
“It’s open,” she heard her lover call.
Daja bit her lip and entered Rizu’s room.
As Mistress of the Wardrobe, Rizu had two of the tiny rooms set aside for those in the empress’s service. Only imperial guests actually have room to breathe, she had joked on the ten-odd nights she’d spent in Daja’s suite. Now Rizu sat at the desk that took up a corner of the sitting room, writing something. She looked at Daja and tried to greet her with her usual sunny smile. Her lush mouth quivered at the attempt.
Daja looked into the bedroom. It was neatly made up. There were no signs of packing. She went in and sat on the bed, smoothing wrinkles out of the airy coverlet with fingers that shook as much as Rizu’s mouth had.
“You could stay.” Rizu had come to stand in the doorway. “Stay here, with me. Be a jewel in the imperial crown. All your work with living metal would earn you a place among the great mages. I want you to stay. I need you to stay.”
“Why won’t you come with me?” Daja asked, her voice cracking. For the first time in her life, she understood all the love poetry, all the passion that described a lover’s kiss and a lover’s touch. I always thought magic had burned that kind of excitement right out of my veins, she thought as she traced an embroidered rose with a fingertip. I always thought that was why boys’ kisses left me feeling odd, not faint, and boys’ hands didn’t make me feel anything but distant. Now I know I wasn’t looking at the right people. Now I’ve found someone who’s right for me, and that’s her. “How can you feel this way and not want to come with me?” she asked. “Don’t you love me?”