He heard more rustling and opened his door. Cousin Ona, shuffling quickly down the corridor in defiance of her ancient, badly healed injury, was wearing glittering mail Zelli did not recognize from the family treasury and a short sword at her belt with a jeweled hilt. Thathadcome from the treasury, but it had also been hers, back when she had regularly worn it.
An agitated falcon perched on her shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Zelli demanded, sorry when it agitated the falcon even more. He couldn’t tell Ona’s birds apart or he would have named it.
Ona swiveled around and fixed him with her one remaining eye.
“Mizel,” she sniffed, relaxing, then really seemed to see him. “Been hidingthat,” she said snippily. “The blood is strong in you, isn’t it?”
Zelli gestured impatiently. “What’s going on? Are we inviting them in?”
“In?” Ona echoed gruffly. “Aleen is meeting their party at the lower gate—outside the gate. She’s no fool to let them in or to offer insult by ignoring them.”
“She’s going all the way down to personally meet amessenger?”
“More than a messenger,” Ona said, as though Zelli could have known that. “Younger brother to The Villucatto.” She stopped. “Is this because of those guards who followed you home? Shame.” She seemed to answer her own question. “We could have used them.”
“We aren’t giving them up,” Zelli snarled. He wasn’t in the mood to pretend he didn’t want to.
Ona arched an eyebrow, but surprised Zelli by trying to placate him. “Aleen knows what she’s doing. You’d best get back in your room unless she sends for you. Which she might. You looking like that is liable to scare the little humans.”
Little humans. Cousin Ona was only slightly taller than Zelli.
She carried on down the corridor, the rest of her words reserved for her bird.
Zelli slammed his door behind him and stormed into the bathing room. He swept a comb through his hair, expecting a tangle and yet the teeth of the comb easily passed through even the most snarled curl. He looked into the mirror to see the colors of sunset settle around horns of shining black. His eyes were of the same gleaming dark hue, wide and watchful and inhuman. They suited his near-fangs, though his teeth were hidden unless he smiled.
His hair rose and fell in waves and curls around his ears, leaving them in plain sight. Short, pale fur decorated his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, and the backs of his hands.
He left the room immediately, pulling on the gloves then reaching for a robe only to remember his biggest robe was on the floor by the bath, undoubtedly still heavy with water. He barely paused before putting Tahlen’s cloak over his shoulders instead. No one would expect a Tialttyrin to be in a guard’s cloak and it was large enough that the hood fell over Zelli’s face.
Zelli would get better information but keep back as Tahlen had asked. Grandmother or Nya would have news for him, and that wouldn’t involve going beyond the inner gate.
Except he could not find his grandmother, or Nya, for that matter. They were not in their rooms, nor in any of the usual places. A flurry of anxious staff were cleaning the receiving rooms, either for something to take their minds off the visitors at the lower gate, or they’d been ordered to in preparation for a possible second meeting of those visitors. Zelli didn’t pester them, sneaking outside instead, but keeping to what shadows he could so a short guard would not be noticed.
But he didn’t think his efforts would have mattered. Everyone was in too much of a state to pay any attention to anyone else. Many seemed to be on actual errands, but others were finding reasons to linger around the inner gate. The guards on duty at the gate were also in heavier armor, pole-axes glinting even under the gray skies. They didn’t stop anyone from leaving, but Zelli wondered if the people hurrying down the road to go observe the visitors realized that those guards would not let them back in if Grandmother gave the order to lower the portcullis and shut the gate.
That seemed unlikely, unless it was a larger party than ten riders the younger brother to The Villucatto had brought with him. He couldn’t expect the whole group to be allowed in, any case. Thatwouldbe offering insult: no single beat-of-four was allowed more than one or two sworn guards even when within the palace, for obvious reasons.
No one ever said anything about multiple beat-of-fours from the same family each having their own guards inside the palace walls. But Zelli supposed that oversight was why so many lost the crown after gaining it.
He skirted the practice yard and the stable, noting the number of horses gone, the lack of any guards who seemed to be off duty, and realizing all at once why that was, and why so many others were venturing down to the lower gate; Grandmother must already be on her way there. She would travel slowly, even in a carriage or on horseback.
He caught a glimpse of Ona on her horse in the distance, her falcon on her arm, very probably intending to meet Grandmother’s retinue on the way down, and lowered his head before following her. It gave him a view of not much beyond his feet, but it kept his face out of sight.
He trailed Ona at a distance, which was easy since he didn’t stop for a horse. He hovered near a group from the kitchens, keeping his back turned away from the guards at the gate until they were out of his sight. Then he darted past the kitchen staff, moving as close to a run as he dared.
The air was thick and unpleasant; a stormwason the way. Zelli reached up to touch the rowan tree at his throat and ask if the fae meant something with that, but his necklace was hopefully protecting Tahlen now, so he let his hand fall to his side and kept moving.
When he was closer to the lower gate, he slowed his pace and tipped his head up enough to peer at the scene ahead of him. Many in the village stood along the road. Perhaps they’d wanted to see Grandmother, since few had in recent years. But once Grandmother and the others of the Tialttyrin force had passed, some of the villagers trickled onto the road to follow, mingling with those from the fortress.
Zelli followed until Grandmother’s retinue approached the gate. Tahlen and Grandmother wanted him out of danger. He had… well, he had not actually agreed to stay back, but he was going to. Tahlen had too many things to upset him today and shouldn’t have Zelli’s safety on his mind as well.
He assumed the small figure in the long, velvet cloak in the middle of the orderly chaos was Grandmother, which meant one of the guards flanking her was Tahlen. The other was likely Ric. Tahlen had found a new cloak. There were guards around them on foot, holding pole-axes.
None of that was a surprise, except possibly the choice of weapon. The staffs were so big they had to be carried and could not be slung in a belt. Zelli remembered Mil approving of such things, so the choice must have been important.
The gate would be opened within moments. Where Zelli stood, he would not be able to hear anything. Nor he would have anywhere to run to except back to the fortress, should running be required. Although, he imagined he could be caught easily if he went uphill trying to escape someone on horseback.
