"I am not at liberty to divulge that information," the spokeswoman said. "Now, Your Highness, please, the food is getting cold."
"Don't you have braziers in the palace for keeping food warm?"
Was this Mott's retaliation for hitting Lukan? Sending priestesses here to lure her to some awful fate? Her mind flitted to her unfinished letter, but she rejected that as a cause-she hadn't started writing the section on the Chenayan technology yet.
The spokeswoman gestured to one of her companions. The girl, no older than a teen, lunged. In the same instant, Lynx wrenched the tieback off the curtain and swung the cord before her. It seemed no deterrent to the priestess, who thrust her hand at Lynx. Swirling the cord, Lynx struck the girl on the temple with the crystal ornament. She dropped.
In a whirl of white, the other three women swarmed Lynx, shockers grasping for her bare flesh. Lynx flailed the tieback from left to right, hitting her targets. Grunts and moans resounded, but even as she fought, the odds were against her. It was only a matter of time before one of them got in close enough to fry her.
When the shock came, it was nowhere near as painful as when the she-witch had attacked her. Still, it was enough to stun. She crumpled back against the dressing room wall.
When she came to, her hands were bound in front of her with strong cords, and a priestess flanked her on either side, bare fingers pressed into her arms.
Face strained with anger, the spokeswoman said, "That was not how we hoped this would go, Your Highness, but you left us no choice."
"No," Lynx snarled, tugging at her constraints. "You left me with no choice." She looked down at the girl she had struck on the temple.
The spokeswoman glanced at her, too. "I'll fix the curtains," she said to the other priestesses. "Silvana, help Alina, and then everyone back to the cloisters."
With just enough pain blasting her arms to disorient, but not to debilitate, Lynx had no choice but to follow the priestesses. It was a long walk through deserted passages and hallways to the cloisters, located on the farthest reaches of the palace. Mother Saskia waited at the first colonnade. Refusing to show pain or fear, Lynx fixed a haughty expression on her face.
"Dragon's curses! What happened? Why are the princess's hands bound?" the she-witch demanded.
"She did not wish to join us," the spokeswoman replied at the exact moment Lynx said, "Chenayan hospitality! I suppose you now plan to poison me?"
Mother Saskia tsked. "What happened to Alina?"
The spokeswoman glared at Lynx. "She hit her with a crystal bauble."
"I warned you all to be careful of Princess Lynx. Now go to your cells."
Without protest, the priestesses slunk away. Mother Saskia clearly ruled her cloister with absolute control. The priestess moved purposefully toward her. Lynx stiffened, but Saskia gently took Lynx's arm.
"Dinner is served."
"Am I supposed to eat with my hands tied together?" Lynx demanded.
"That will be taken care of when I am convinced you are no longer a threat."
"Winds, you'll wait a long time for that."
The she-witch smiled. She led Lynx into a tiny cell with space for a single bed and a narrow closet. A fresh candle, the only lighting, waited on a crude wooden table, illuminating a steaming clay bowl of soup and a few chunks of coarse bread. A chamber pot stood in the opposite corner.
Mother Saskia gestured to the food. "Priestess rations. I make it a rule that no one in this cloister eats better than the average low-born living in any hovel in Cian."
Lynx was impressed, but she wouldn't let it show.
Mother Saskia closed the wooden door, locking it with a chunky key. "Sit, Princess Lynx. We have a long night before us."
It seemed childish to argue, so Lynx obeyed, sitting on the edge of the hard, narrow mattress.
"Your wrists, please." Mother Saskia drew a stumpy dagger from her pocket, the same one she'd use to slash through Lynx's braid, and sliced through the bindings.
"Why are you holding me prisoner?"
The wooden bed creaked as Mother Saskia sat next to her. "I told you, Princess Lynx, there is no place in Chenaya for powerful women. We all need allies if we are to survive. Today, an unlikely ally came to my rescue moments before I was flung onto a train bound for Galec Prison Camp. That ally informed me that I was to keep you isolated until the wedding tomorrow." She looked down at her hands. "I am in no position to disobey."
Lynx's pulse raced. "And who would that ally be?"
"The Lord of the Household."
Count Felix? Why would he save Mother Saskia? Lynx wished she understood the politics better. She was about to question when the priestess spoke.
"You will find your allies, too, Princess, and when you do, the powers that rule us will all scurry for cover."
It was the bitterness in Mother Saskia's voice, even more than her words, that left Lynx speechless. Finally, she gasped, "And which side will you be on?"
Without looking at her, the priestess said, so softly Lynx could barely hear her, "My brother died in Treven. His life wasted, for what? Today, after a lifetime of loyal service, I was almost sent to my death at Galec Prison Camp. One failure, one miserable failure that I wasn't even accountable for, that's all it took, and the emperor was ready to cast me off." Mother Saskia stood and opened the door, stopping on the threshold. "I think you're smart enough to figure out your own answers, Princess."
Lynx sat in stunned silence as the priestess closed and locked the door behind her. How much of Mother Saskia's commentary on the train had been for the benefit of the cameras? Lynx had no idea, but that wasn't her highest priority.
She had told Axel she would marry him.
She shook her head in disbelief. Axel: a Chenayan, an Avanov, the man who had commanded his troops to kill Hare and so many of her people. It was inconceivable.
But it was true.
Despite everything, she wanted Axel with a longing so painful she could barely breathe. In the short time she'd known him, he'd conquered her heart as surely as Thurban had conquered Norin. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Her pulse sped up. He wanted her, too. Enough to kill for her. Was what they had love? It had to be. Nothing else could simultaneously feel so good and so bad.
A troubling thought niggled at her conscience. Should she even be thinking about marrying Axel when Cricket had made it so clear that choosing him would lead to the failure of the Dmitri Curse? Then again, could she trust Cricket? The meeting had been so cryptic, so garbled.
And what about her oath?
Her chest locked as if the Winds themselves had sucked all the air from her lungs. How could she have said yes to Axel when she had sworn a vow to her father?
Lynx sprang to her feet and paced the tiny cell, her quick steps as frenzied as her thoughts. Would her father understand? If she could explain it all to him . . .
How she wished to be back home, where everything was so simple, so clear. Tomorrow would be such a special day in Norin, with four youths, her own brother included, raiding eggs. She would have taken her turn, playing her fiddle at the celebration party when Clay took his rightful place amongst the raiders. Then, she and Heron would have danced-the wild, exuberant dances she loved.
But instead, she was locked in a cloister, facing an uncertain future, torn between love and honor.
Cricket's words, emblazoned on her brain, rang back at her. The only way you, Lynx of Norin, will ever help fulfill the Dmitri Curse is to relinquish Axel and to marry Lukan. But if you do, Nicholas's conception will bring you nothing but pain.
To survive, you will need the strength, not of a soldier going into battle with sword and axe, but of a warrior armed with nothing but honor and a determination to win.
Knowing this, who will you choose, Axel or Lukan?
After the pain Lynx had experienced with the shattering mirrors, she wanted to scream that the choice was logical: Axel.
But logic had no place here.
She grabbed the spoon and began ladling the watery vegetable soup into her mouth. But her stomached roiled, refusing to accept the food. She slid down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands, unable to stop the sobs that wracked her body.
At length, her breathing calmed.
It did not matter which god Cricket and Dmitri served, but Winds knew, her course had been charted the moment Kestrel had crushed Clay's egg, along with his hopes. Little had Lynx known how big the canvas onto which she stepped was when she had made a simple promise to fight for her brother's right to happiness.