Daughter of the Sea

XXII: Invited

Regat turned, calm and regal, from the princess to the stranger. "I present my daughter, the Princess Angharad." She looked hard at Angharad, a warning, measured glance. "Angharad, as we have expected...our guest, the lady Achren."

Achren's cold glance flicked sinuously to Regat at the deliberate omission of any royal title, but neither woman betrayed any emotion. Somewhere beneath the dread that paralyzed her Angharad felt a glimmer of dazed respect for her mother's nerve. She glanced at Arianrhod, who held her gaze silently, steadily; her face was pale, but set and resolute, and the warmth of her eyes seemed to thaw Angharad's frozen pulse. The princess let out a breath, straightened her spine, and pulled her mind away from the grasping cling of the alien magic. The pulsing at her temples eased, subsiding into a dull throb, unpleasant but tolerable. She opened her dry mouth, trying to find words that would serve both courtesy and truth without revealing her revulsion. "We...we are grateful, lady, for your willingness to travel to us," she managed, "and for what assistance you may offer. I hope this...relationship will prove mutually beneficial."

Achren's ice-blue eyes settled back upon her appraisingly, and her proud head dipped. Jewels winked, nestled within the shining curves of her braids, dangling at her ears, adorning her slender hands. "Charming," she said, in a voice low but clear, and not altogether devoid of sincerity. "At last, the circle is complete, and I am honored thrice. The queen has refused to conduct any sort of business until you arrived, princess. Such trust in and reliance on so young an heir. Your capabilities must be impressive. It is admirable."

Angharad caught her breath at the mocking twist of mouth that accompanied the comment, but before she could react it was gone, replaced by a bland and unremarkable expression. Regat looked severely and rather exasperatedly at her daughter. "Indeed. Though I hope an entire day spent away from your duties has rejuvenated you sufficiently." Her gaze traveled down, took in Angharad's disheveled hair and rumpled, informal clothing. "It did nothing for your sense of propriety, that's certain."

Angharad gulped, horribly conscious of her unkempt appearance, though she thought wildly that Achren's smooth elegance would have made her feel underdressed in even her most formal ceremonial garments. She glanced again at Arianrhod for support. Her aunt made a conciliatory gesture toward the queen. "A day spent in repose from duty is a blessing," Arianrhod murmured, "especially duty that has been so overwhelming of late. You ought to avail yourself of such more often, Regat." Sadness mingled in her smile.

Comforted, the princess found her voice. "I am...better for the day's rest, Mother. I beg your pardon for returning so late, and in...such a state. I had thought that my presence would not be required until the rituals tonight."

"Yes, well," Regat returned, waving a hand dismissively, "what's done is done. Now that we are all here, we may come to the subject at hand." She sank to her seat, motioning for all to do the same.

Angharad, heavy with a sense of unreality, crossed to the window opposite the room as far from Achren as she could possibly get, and sat in its alcove, surreptitiously pushing the casement open a crack. The evening air drifted in and she breathed it deeply, trying to rid herself of the repellent cling of this new magic. It tasted and smelled, she realized, very like the alien fire they were battling beneath the earth, only here in Achren's presence it was sharper, more metallic; thin and piercing like tiny blades, pricking at her senses in a constant, irritating assault. She wondered how her mother and aunt bore it, sitting there as though they felt nothing. The air threading through the mist was cool and damp and faintly briny; she laid her aching head against the windowpane, and thought of Geraint.