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She was old. That struck him at once. Nothing like his dreams. Nor like the portrait his uncle kept in his study, a gift she presented him when he left Court. Irrationally, Asa had expected her to remain immutable, like her words, but no. Her skin was an almost transparent brown, and etched with innumerable faint lines. Her hair was white and thin, drawn back with a ribbon and falling loose down her back. Only her eyes were the same, wide and dark, so dark a brown that they appeared black.
She read swiftly, her expression grave except once, when she smiled, and once again, when her brows drew together. “Your name is Asa,” she said at a last. Her voice was husky, like a dove’s throaty murmur.
He nodded, remembering that voice from his dreams.
“From House Dilawer,” she went on, “presently governed by your mother. Your uncle was my friend in Court, as you must know. Would you like to hear what he tells me?”
“I—No. That is not necessary.”
Her mouth twitched in a smile. “I shall tell you nevertheless. You are young, he says. Your mother indulges you with dozens of masters and tutors, more than your brothers and sisters, who are already ably assisting her in the family business of money. To be brief, which your uncle was not, you are quite spoiled.”
Asa closed his eyes. He had not expected such scathing candor. Why had the man given him the letter of introduction then? Dimly, he heard Tanja Duhr saying something about Asa being a stubborn boy.
“Excuse me,” he said softly. “I—I did not quite understand that last.”
If she noticed his confusion, she said nothing of it. “He tells me you were always a stubborn boy. In many ways that is a good thing. For all that you’ve had a dozen masters for a dozen different pursuits, you do not flit from one to the other. Rather, you work hard until you conquer your ignorance and your inability. Your uncle believes you will make a fine councilor of the House some day.”
“I do not wish to be a councilor or a banker.”
“No? Is that why you came to me? To be a poet?”
“No. I—“
She flicked her hand, silencing him. “You are young. You do not know what you want. Hêja asks me to consider receiving you as a guest here. He calls it giving you a position, but guest is what he means. Though I treasure his friendship, I see no reason to indulge you as your family does.”
A clear dismissal, so abrupt he stood frozen a moment, too shocked to reply. She was like the mountains, he thought. Exactly so, they had stood in snow and indifferent silence as he lay dying. Asa stiffly bowed his head. “Thank you for the grace of this interview, my lady. I shall not trouble you longer.”
He made no move to retrieve the letter. Let her keep it. He turned away and headed toward the wooden door.
“Does your uncle lie?” she called out.
He paused. “What do you mean?”
“He said you were stubborn.”
“You dismissed me.”
“Hardly. I said I would not indulge you. But if you are as stubborn as your uncle claims, I do have one task for you.”
He waited, still unwilling to face her.
Her response was low chuckle. “Indeed,” she said softly. “He did not lie. You are stubborn.” Then louder, “Come to me tomorrow morning for instructions. Minne will provide you with a room and whatever else you require.”
* * *
It was the first time they met, she and Tanja Duhr. Adele had come to Duenne to serve in the Emperor’s guards. She was twenty-four, a soldier from the provinces, unaccustomed to palaces and anxious about her duties. When her captain assigned her to the midnight watch on the palace rooftop, she told herself she would stare the night away. No intruder—and there had been dozens since the new Emperor took his throne—could take her unawares.
So when she encountered a woman flitting along the outer walkway, Adele hefted her sword and called challenge.
The woman spun to face Adele, her dark hair swirling like clouds around a storm. Her eyes were wide and bright. Her gown was a shapeless mass of blue cloth. As it floated to rest, silvery threads glinted in the moonlight. She was barefoot.
“The Emperor’s chief guard,” the woman said in a low voice.
Adele could hear the laughter running underneath. “I do my duty,” she said stiffly, not lowering the sword.
The woman regarded her for a moment, all signs of mirth erased from her expression. “You do,” she said. “For which I thank you. I was wrong to tease.” She held out her hand. “My name is Tanja.”
Her hand was slim, her clasp firm and warm.
