A red-haired young woman stood in a throne room, representatives of a hundred lands kneeling before her. She strode out into the streets, distributing bread to the poor, picking up flowers strewn at her feet so that she could laughingly make a crown of them for a group of children. She reached out for a wilted flower and brought it back to health
She strode through the middle of a battlefield, a blade in her hand, thrusting down into the bodies of the dying, ending their attempts to cling to life. She reached down for a young man and drew the life out of him with a touch, feeding it into the great well of power that would let her heal her own troops
She danced in the middle of a ball, laughing as she spun, obviously loved by those around her. Artists worked at the side of the room with everything from paint to stone to magic, creating works so beautiful they almost hurt the eye to look at them. She welcomed the poor into the feast, not as charity, but because she didnt see any difference between feeding her friends and feeding everyone who was hungry
She stood at the lip of a fighting pit, before a group of nobles who shook as they knelt, looking up at her with a mixture of fear and hatred that made Sophia wince to see it.
You betrayed me, she said, in a voice of almost perfect beauty. You could have had everything, and all you had to do was follow my commands.
And be no better than slaves! one of the men said.
She stepped toward them, a sword in her hand. There must be a price for that.
She moved close, and the killing began while around her the crowd chanted one word, a name, over and over Christina, Christina
Sophia snapped back to herself, staring down at her daughter, not understanding what had just happened. Sophia understood the feel of a real vision by now, but she didnt understand what all of this meant. It felt like two sets of visions at once, each contradicting the other. They couldnt both be true, could they?
Sophia, what is it? Kate asked.
I I had a vision, Sophia said. A vision about my daughter.
What kind of vision? Lucas asked.
I dont understand it, Sophia said. I saw her, and half the time she was doing these beautiful, wonderful things, and the rest it was so cruel, so evil.
Show us, Kate suggested.
Sophia did her best, sending across the images of the vision to both of them. Even like this, she didnt feel as though she got the full sense of it across to them. She couldnt convey how wonderful and how terrifying it felt, how powerfully real it all was, even compared to the other visions shed had.
May I touch her mind? Lucas asked, when Sophia had done it.
Sophia nodded, guessing that he was checking for any sign that her daughter wasnt what she appeared to be. After what Siobhan had tried to do, trying to take over her unborn form, the prospect of it was terrifying.
Shes still herself, Lucas said, but I can feel the power there. Shes going to be stronger than any of us, I think.
What do the visions mean, though? Sophia asked them. Her daughter looked so perfect in her arms. Sophia couldnt imagine her ever stalking through a battlefield, sucking the life out of people the way the Master of Crows might have with his birds.
Maybe theyre possibilities, Kate suggested. Siobhan used to talk about looking at the strands of the future, picking out the things that would make other things happen. Maybe these are two ways that her life could turn out.
But we dont know what makes the difference, Sophia said. We dont know how to make sure that the good things happen.
You raise her with love, Lucas said. You teach her well. You help her to move toward the light, not the dark. Little Christina will have power, whatever you do, but you can help her to use it well.
Sophia recoiled at the name. It might have been her mothers, but after the vision, she couldnt give it to her daughter, she wouldnt.
Anything but Christina, she said. She thought about the flowers that shed seen her daughter weaving together in the street. Violet. Well call her Violet.
Violet, Kate said with a smile, holding out a finger for the tiny baby to grab. Shes already strong, like her mother.
Like her aunt, maybe, Sophia replied. Her smile faded a little. Dont tell Sebastian about all of this, please, either of you. He shouldnt be burdened with the knowledge of this. With what she might become.
I wont tell anyone if you dont want me to, Lucas assured her.
Me either, Kate said. If anyone can raise her to be a good person, its you, Sophia. And well be there to help.
We will, Lucas said. He smiled to himself. Perhaps Ill have a chance to play Official Kos role and pass on some of the things he taught me.
They seemed so certain that things would turn out all right, and Sophia wanted to believe it. Even so, a part of her couldnt forget the things shed seen. Her daughter smiled up at her in perfect innocence. Sophia had to make sure it stayed that way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Henry dAngelica, eldest son of Sir Hubert and Lady Neeme dAngelica, had what he suspected was the hardest job in the kingdom right then: trying to mollify his parents regarding everything that had happened in the kingdom in the last few weeks.
Ianthe is distraught, of course, his mother said, through her tears, as if it was news that his aunt would be upset about the death of her daughter.
His father was better at anger than at sadness, bringing a wrinkled fist down on the wood of the fireplace. The things those barbarians did to her do you know they put the poor girls head on a spike?
Henry had heard that rumor, along with a hundred others, mostly repeated by his parents. The house had been consumed by little else since the invasion. Angelica had been falsely accused of treason. Angelica had been torn apart by a mob, or hanged, or beheaded. The invaders had run through the streets, slaughtering anyone in royal colors. They had sided with the son who had murdered the old queen
Henry, are you even listening to us? his father demanded.
In theory, Henry shouldnt have flinched. He was nineteen, a man grown. He was tall and strong, a fine swordsman and a better shot. Yet there was always something in his fathers voice that made him just a small boy again.
Im sorry, Father, what did you say? Henry asked.
I said that something must be done, his father repeated, with obvious bad grace.
As you say, Father, Henry said.
His father gave Henry an angry look. Honestly, I have raised a vapid shell of a man in you. Not like your cousin.
Now, my love his mother began, but in the halfhearted way she usually did.
Well, its true, his father snapped, pacing before the fireplace like a guard before a castle gate. Not that a man as important as Sir Hubert would have appreciated the comparison. The boy cant stick with anything. How many tutors did he go through as a child? Then there was the commission with that military company I had to buy him out of, and the business with joining the Church of the Masked Goddess
Henry didnt bother pointing out that all of that had been down to his parents. There had been so many tutors because his father had a habit of firing them whenever they taught anything he didnt agree with, so that Henry had mostly educated himself in the houses library. Equally, his father had been the one to decide that a commission in a free company was no place for his son, while the business with the church had even been the old mans idea, until he learned that it would mean that Henry would never be able to give the family the heirs it required.