Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

56

"It's the princess. Uarria, or whatever her name was. The shadowcat. That's her."

"For the goddess's sake, Diarmán, you might have allowed me a moment—"

"You were just watching the girl near lick his face off!" Diarmán said. "The poor fellow has waited for an age to see his child again and you're fumbling for a pretty way to tell him she's back? Are all Karelinians this dramatic?"

Matei stared at Uarria. His face was frozen in an expression of disbelief. His voice was very soft and very crisp when he said, "I do not appreciate the joke." Once again, there were tears standing in his eyes.

Uachi gave Diarmán a dark look of disgust. Then he turned completely away from him, striding toward the emperor. "It's true, Matei. We came upon Ealin and Uarria in the woods on their way to the Narrian city of Aólane."

"What—"

"Please. Let me explain." Uachi extended a hand, which Matei took, pulling himself to his feet. He turned to stare at Uarria, but she was already butting up against his legs, purring as she rubbed her flank along him.

Uachi continued, "I had promised to Diarmán that we would go with him to confront Coratse; it is a long story, but I owed him. He did much to ensure that Ealin and Uarria did not get too far ahead of us. Much that his family could do and I could not. It was a simple thing, to stand at his side, but I could not do it unless Uarria was safe. And so..."

"It was rather more convenient to bring a large cat along with us through the wilderness than a tiny princess," Diarmán said. "Which, now that I say it out loud, sounds more ridiculous than it seemed at the time."

"You're saying this is my daughter?" Matei's voice was tight and trembling.

"Shall I say it again?" Diarmán offered, his tone light.

Uachi could have punched him. He very nearly did. "For Zanara's sake, Diarmán, show some respect!" he said. "Please, will you just show him? If the princess isn't safe in an encampment bristling with imperial soldiers, she isn't safe anywhere."

"Are you sure? Don't you want to get her home to the Holy City before you take off the fur?"

"Just show him, or your head is what I'll bloody well take off!"

Diarmán's smile was slow and wickedly amused. He was enjoying himself, and no mistake; apparently, being in the presence of the emperor did not dampen his irreverent humor. He drew his sword. Matei tensed, shifting seamlessly into a fighting stance despite his obvious fatigue. He had a hand raised, although he had not yet drawn upon his power.

Uachi stepped between the two other men. "Be calm, Matei. He means us no harm."

Diarmán seemed to be unaffected by Matei's alarm. He whirled his sword at his side, and when it came to rest, it was a flute. He raised the instrument to his lips and began to play. Matei did not relax until that song had filled the air. Then, his expression softening, he looked from Diarmán to the shadowcat at his feet. The three men watched as those pointed ears grew rounded and shrank back against the skull; as the tail disappeared; as the limbs shortened and became more slender; as the body was shed of its silky coating of dark gray fur. In the space of a few breaths, where a fearsome predator had been, there sat a little girl. She was naked, her skin splotched with dust and her loose brown curls a tangle around her face.

The sound Matei made when he saw his daughter knelt at his feet was harsh and piteous at once. It was a ragged sob. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms, tears flowing freely down his face.

"Uarria," he whispered. "Uarria, goddess above, my girl—"

"She's safe, Matei." Even as he said this, Uachi was reflecting on the many things that had happened since Uarria had left the palace in the company of Ealin and how, despite the fact that she had avoided major injuries to her body, her mind might not be quite so free.

"You found her." Matei drew back, taking Uarria's face in his hands. He looked at her as if he would never look away from her again. "My sweet girl. My dearest heart. My little firefly. How I missed you."

Uarria was freely weeping. She clutched at Matei's tabard, curled in to his body. Uachi took a blanket from Matei's camp bed and draped it over her naked shoulders. Neither she nor Matei seemed to notice.

Diarmán, whose song had faded, was spinning his flute in his fingers, looking extremely pleased with himself. He reached for his cup of wine and raised it in their direction. "You're welcome," he said, and he drank.