The Shining Falcon

Chapter XXIV Surprises

You fool!

Alone in her chambers, the servants having fled her rage, Ljuba paced restlessly, berating herself for want of any other victim. She had let Finist go his own way, she had been so sure that if she simply left him alone, he'd quickly tire of peasant squalor and stupidity— But he hadn't tired. For all that she had surprised many a look of honest lust for her in his eyes, for all her attempts to build up an image of a chastised, dutiful, loving young woman, he'd spurned her. He'd gone his own way, all right, right out of the palace, without so much as a word to her!

Finist had returned to his little peasant slut, and as though that wasn't enough, he'd left Semyon to hold the throne for him: Dull Semyon. Honest Semyon. Semyon, who, with his smiles and politeness and sheer, deliberate, calculated stubbornness, was going to drive her mad.

And did Finist really think he would get away with his amorous intrigues? Did he really think she would let him insult her like this?

Ljuba glanced quickly about to be sure no servants lingered, then cast off the protective drape from a precious mirror. For a moment she hesitated, struck by the memory of how her last magical spying had exhausted her. But then she caught herself staring fearfully at her reflection like some simpering little idiot terrified of consequences. Well, damn those consequences!

It had been a long, wearisome search. Ljuba had to struggle just to focus at all on forest that resented her intrusion. And she couldn't help but remember that wild-eyed, mocking forest demon. She'd been lucky to locate Finist the last time without rousing demonic wrath. But what if he‑it—sensed what she was trying to do, and attacked her? She knew how to deal with psychic assaults from other humans, yes, but if the attack came from the forest itself, the Old Magic that was so terrifyingly uncontrollable…

Enough of this nonsense. She was losing her hold on the mirror's image. And all the stupid agonizing had been for nothing, because now she realized that Finist wasn't in the forest at all.

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Then where in the name of God was he?

Delicately, Ljuba widened the scope of her search. She saw the hint of a city… Stargorod! Bewildered, Ljuba hunted for the essence that was Finist‑carefully, lest he detect her prying. Yes, there he was, and with someone…

With a little hiss of fury, Ljuba recognized the peasant wench. That plain, nameless little slut-But Ljuba stopped, noticing the woman's clothing for the first time. Rich, silken brocade… And her surroundings were never that of a peasant's hut, not with those elegant furnishings…

«No!» moaned Ljuba. «Damn her!»

This was no peasant, no common little light-of‑love to be used and discarded. This was a noblewoman, a boyar's child, no doubt of it! That made her a genuine rival. And Finist—

«Oh, no, Finist! You won't get away with this!» Ljuba said viciously.

«I think that he will, lady.»

The quiet, unexpected voice made Ljuba whirl in surprise.

«Semyon! How dare you enter without — "

«My apologies, lady. Royal orders. And the door was unbarred.» The old boyar gave her the most courtly of bows. «My Prince left me this command, lady. If you were found to be using your mirrors to—ah—observe him about his business, all reflective surfaces were to be removed from your presence. My Prince and his father both trained me to be sensitive to the feel of anyone attempting such scryings, and so…»

Enraged to speechlessness, Ljuba could only gasp, «You dare!»

«Those are the prince's orders.»

«I—I'll — " Ljuba floundered helplessly for words as embarrassed servants searched her quarters, removing mirrors, silver perfume flasks, anything which might hold a reflection. «Stop! Don't— You can't— Oh, curse you, leave me alone!» But she didn't dare offer any real resistance, because resistance to a royal command was as good as treason, and she didn't dare cast any sort of suspicion on herself, not now.

«One thing more, lady," Semyon said softly. «This too is the prince's command: you are to be confined here within your palace, within these private quarters, until Prince Finist returns.»

The look of grim satisfaction on the boyar's face was just too much for Ljuba. Suddenly unable to hide her hatred, she stared into Semyon's eyes and hissed, «If I ruled Kirtesk, old man, you'd be wise to flee for your life!»

He didn't so much as flinch. «Then it's fortunate for us both that you do not, lady. I make a very poor runner. Good day to you.»