that has given extra concern to those who know you best. But spoiled young ladies do like to have their way.”
“I apologize for the extra concern,” I said, thinking: asked for what?
Jason said, “Meanwhile, in your turn you’ll have to get used to my face.” His tone was wry.
Garian spoke quickly. “We think you’ll be better off having the wedding here, so that you can go home with Jason and recover. That way you won’t be required to suffer the recriminations of your family while you’re still weak.”
“Here? Isn’t that too much of a hurry?”
Garian’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean, shouldn’t I be able to recognize the guests at my own wedding?”
Garian smiled. It was that impatient smile; the feeling it sent through me was not reassurance, but warning. “And here I thought you would be pleased with my efforts on your behalf. All the plans have been set in motion.”
I closed my eyes. It still hurt to think. “Well, if you’ve gone to that much trouble.”
“Maybe by the time the guests arrive and the gown can be made, you’ll have your memory again.” Garian spread his hands.
“I didn’t have a gown made?”
“Everything ruined.” Garian shook his head sadly. “Rain, too. Mud. Torn to shreds. Before you were found.”
“What sort of a gown do you wish?” Jason asked.
“I-I don’t know.”
“We’ll sort it all out later.” Garian waggled his fingers, rings glittering.
I started to rise, then spotted a fine, inlaid twelve-string lute lying on a side table. Two steps, three, took me to it. I reached, stroked the wood gently. My right hand moved over the frets, pressing, pressing, and my left strummed softly. Sound, rich, shimmering sound delighted me, and I closed my eyes, reaching—
My head hurt, my hand faltered, and a false note shocked me. I clutched the lute against me. Tears burned my eyes.
I turned around, and dizziness made the room gently revolve.
Jason disengaged the lute from my fingers and laid it aside. “Come. I will take you back. You had better resume your rest.”
“All right. Why can’t I remember?” I whispered.
Jason did not answer. He carried me back upstairs. I tried to feel whatever I was supposed to feel, but all I was aware of was headache. Jason didn’t speak as he set me on the bed, near which Netta waited, her face anxious.
She covered me, and I didn’t hear Jason go out.
When I woke, I was alone. The dizziness was gone; the blue curtains stayed still. The windows had been closed against rain. Near the bed someone had placed a side table on which rested a water pitcher, glass and an apple. Above hung a bell cord.
Netta brought me a tray, stayed to watch me eat. Then she lit some candles, and left.
I sat in bed with a glass of water in my hands, watching the candle light on it, not really thinking—until I realized I was seeing a face in the water.
Water splashed onto my quilt as I jerked the glass up. I held it close to my eyes and shook it, but all I saw was the golden gleam that liquid and light make together.
The headache crashed on me. Did I cry out? I dropped the glass and flopped back onto the pillows. Netta reappeared, and I heard her gasp. “My lady?”
“Saw a face. In the glass,” I muttered, my eyes closed.
“I-I’ll get another quilt.” Her voice shook.
I lay where I was, not even feeling cold or wet. When the door opened, Netta entered, with Garian behind her.
Garian came close, still dressed, the candle glow outlining him. “You experienced some sort of vision, I am to understand. Whose face?”
“I don’t know. I think—” I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember. “Jason’s?”
He took my shoulders. “Jason,” he repeated.
I plucked ineffectively at his fingers. “I don’t know. Ow. That hurts.”
“Your pardon.” He loosened his grasp. “I don’t want to find out that any evil mage hired by your father is trying to get at your mind.”
“Evil? Mage?” I shuddered. “Oh, I hope
“I apologize for the extra concern,” I said, thinking: asked for what?
Jason said, “Meanwhile, in your turn you’ll have to get used to my face.” His tone was wry.
Garian spoke quickly. “We think you’ll be better off having the wedding here, so that you can go home with Jason and recover. That way you won’t be required to suffer the recriminations of your family while you’re still weak.”
“Here? Isn’t that too much of a hurry?”
Garian’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean, shouldn’t I be able to recognize the guests at my own wedding?”
Garian smiled. It was that impatient smile; the feeling it sent through me was not reassurance, but warning. “And here I thought you would be pleased with my efforts on your behalf. All the plans have been set in motion.”
I closed my eyes. It still hurt to think. “Well, if you’ve gone to that much trouble.”
“Maybe by the time the guests arrive and the gown can be made, you’ll have your memory again.” Garian spread his hands.
“I didn’t have a gown made?”
“Everything ruined.” Garian shook his head sadly. “Rain, too. Mud. Torn to shreds. Before you were found.”
“What sort of a gown do you wish?” Jason asked.
“I-I don’t know.”
“We’ll sort it all out later.” Garian waggled his fingers, rings glittering.
I started to rise, then spotted a fine, inlaid twelve-string lute lying on a side table. Two steps, three, took me to it. I reached, stroked the wood gently. My right hand moved over the frets, pressing, pressing, and my left strummed softly. Sound, rich, shimmering sound delighted me, and I closed my eyes, reaching—
My head hurt, my hand faltered, and a false note shocked me. I clutched the lute against me. Tears burned my eyes.
I turned around, and dizziness made the room gently revolve.
Jason disengaged the lute from my fingers and laid it aside. “Come. I will take you back. You had better resume your rest.”
“All right. Why can’t I remember?” I whispered.
Jason did not answer. He carried me back upstairs. I tried to feel whatever I was supposed to feel, but all I was aware of was headache. Jason didn’t speak as he set me on the bed, near which Netta waited, her face anxious.
She covered me, and I didn’t hear Jason go out.
When I woke, I was alone. The dizziness was gone; the blue curtains stayed still. The windows had been closed against rain. Near the bed someone had placed a side table on which rested a water pitcher, glass and an apple. Above hung a bell cord.
Netta brought me a tray, stayed to watch me eat. Then she lit some candles, and left.
I sat in bed with a glass of water in my hands, watching the candle light on it, not really thinking—until I realized I was seeing a face in the water.
Water splashed onto my quilt as I jerked the glass up. I held it close to my eyes and shook it, but all I saw was the golden gleam that liquid and light make together.
The headache crashed on me. Did I cry out? I dropped the glass and flopped back onto the pillows. Netta reappeared, and I heard her gasp. “My lady?”
“Saw a face. In the glass,” I muttered, my eyes closed.
“I-I’ll get another quilt.” Her voice shook.
I lay where I was, not even feeling cold or wet. When the door opened, Netta entered, with Garian behind her.
Garian came close, still dressed, the candle glow outlining him. “You experienced some sort of vision, I am to understand. Whose face?”
“I don’t know. I think—” I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember. “Jason’s?”
He took my shoulders. “Jason,” he repeated.
I plucked ineffectively at his fingers. “I don’t know. Ow. That hurts.”
“Your pardon.” He loosened his grasp. “I don’t want to find out that any evil mage hired by your father is trying to get at your mind.”
“Evil? Mage?” I shuddered. “Oh, I hope