Fate's Edge

liked menacing and dark; friendly, no.
    On the far right, seated on a congenial grouping of plush chairs, three women discussed something with frequent gasps. Right, the younger men and the loud women were window dressing. The real players occupied the center of the room. Those four looked like cutthroats.
    The boys smoothly moved to the left, migrating toward the group of younger men. Kaldar led her to the left as well, and murmured, “Please go to that dark-haired woman next to the kid with the book and tell her, ‘Aunt Murid sends her regards.’”
     
    AUDREY let go off Kaldar’s hand and started across the floor. Jack turned to see where she was going. Ice shot through him. At the far wall, next to some man with a book, stood Cerise.
    His gaze swept the room, and he saw William giving him a death stare from the castles-and-knights board game spread out on the table.
    George saw Cerise too and stopped dead in his tracks.
    Kaldar turned, hiding the left side of his body, and gently pushed him forward with his left hand. “Keep moving.”
    Jack found his words. “But that’s—”
    “Keep moving.”
    “We’re dead,” George said. “We’re so dead.”
    They continued to drift.
     
    DO I curtsy or do I not curtsy? Do I bow?
    She would murder Kaldar for this.
    On the right, a younger woman joined the giggling gaspers on the chairs with a short curtsy. Okay. Curtsy it is.
    Audrey put on a bright smile and curtsied before the dark-haired woman. “My lady?”
    The woman glanced at her. “Yes?”
    “Aunt Murid sends her regards.”
    The woman stared at her. Her gaze slid up. She saw Kaldar, and her eyes went as wide as saucers.
    Recover, Audrey willed silently. Recover, because I don’t know what to do next.
    The woman snapped out of her shocked silence. “Ah! So she finally sent word. What are you doing out of bed? Are you feeling better?”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “You look feverish. Would you excuse us for a moment, Francis?”
    The young man blinked, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “But, my lady, the poem isn’t quite finished . . .”
    “We’ll finish it later. This is my traveling companion, and she has been laid up since our landing. I suspect she shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”
    “Perhaps I could be of assistance.” The young man was grasping at straws. “My studies in the . . .”
    “Thank you, Francis, but the sickness is of a feminine nature,” the woman said.
    “Oh.”
    “Excuse us.” The woman grasped Audrey’s hand. She had a grip like a steel vise. “Let us get some air.”
    The woman headed for the open doors leading to a balcony. Audrey sped up, trying to keep pace with her. They emerged onto the balcony and continued walking. The balcony protruded far out over the yard, and the woman continued to move until they had reached the ornate white railing. At the railing, she thrust her hand into her sleeve and pulled out a small metal device that looked like a bulb. Audrey had seen one before—it was a miniature version of the one Kaldar had used to read the dispatch from the Mirror. The woman sat it on the railing and squeezed. The device opened with a light click. Inside, a small glass flower bloomed, its petals opaque. The woman looked at it. Gradually, the petals turned transparent.
    She leaned over to Audrey and whispered, her voice furious. “What are you doing?”
    “Sneaking in,” Audrey whispered back.
    “Shhh,” the woman said. “Not you.”
    The barrette in Audrey’s hair buzzed softly. “My job,” Kaldar’s voice whispered.
    “Why are the children here?”
    “Long story.”
    “You dragged the boys into de Braose’s castle. Are you insane?”
    “Yes,” Audrey told her. “He is.”
    “Such lack of faith,” Kaldar murmured.
    “If anything happens to the children, I’m going to kill you. If I don’t kill you, William will.”
    “Empty threats, cousin. You wouldn’t want to make the lovely woman next to you a widow, would you?”
    Oh, my God. He did not just say that.
    The woman’s eyes got even wider. “You married him?”
    “No!”
    “Not yet,” Kaldar murmured. “Got to go.”
    The buzzing died.
    The woman stared at her.
    “He’s joking,” Audrey said.
    The woman nodded with a patient smile. “Kaldar’s like my brother. I’ve known him all my life. I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve never heard him say that he would marry a woman. He views marriage the same way religious men view sacrilege.”
    “I’m not