The Shining Falcon

Her father waved her to silence, and got down to business with the messengers, checking the condition of his estate, of his status, pleased to hear that Alexei hadn't quite managed to deplete his finances. «It sounds as though it won't take much to make everything quite liveable again.»

«No, boyar, I would think not. And Prince Svyatoslav does expect you back in Stargorod as soon as possible.»

«Yes," said Danilo.

«No," said Vasilissa, and when everyone turned to look at her in surprise, she repeated, quite calmly, «No. Don't you see? We have already lived in enough shame. To go back now, dressed as peasants, sitting on horses behind common guards—we cannot accept that. Good Captain, we shall wait here till all is ready for us. And then we shall return to Stargorod not as beggars trying to steal into the city, but as noble folk properly clad, in a proper carriage, in proper style.»

And, while her father and sister stared at her, amazed at this longest coherent speech she'd made in some time, Vasilissa smiled at them and gave a little sigh of delicious anticipation.

Ljuba awoke with a start, looking up to find her maid, Anya, standing over her, a worried expression on her face. Ljuba frowned, puzzled, looking around. She was in her bed, with no memory of having come here!

«What is this? What's going on?»

«Ah… you've been asleep, Mistress.»

«I gathered that! How long?»

«Well… you did wake, or almost wake, a few times, enough to take some water and then some soup. You don't remember?»

Ljuba shook her head impatiently. «How long? Altogether.»

«Nearly five days, Mistress.»

Ljuba stared up at her in sheer disbelief. But the look of stupid honesty on that bovine face just couldn't have been feigned. And Ljuba had to admit she did feel amazingly drained. But why… ?

And then memory returned with a rush:

How long had she been staring like this into her mirror? Ljuba had long since lost track of time. But it didn't matter, because at last she'd located Finist‑in Stargorod, of all places.

And though the image was dim and uncertain, she watched while the prince paid his visits to Alexei and Prince Svyatoslav, while one boyar was condemned and another reprieved, she watched in complete bewilderment.

Why should Finist care what happens to a man who isn't even of his court? She couldn't, for a moment, accept that someone would go so far out of his way just to satisfy an urge for justice. Some sense of obligation? Or is it more?

Her head was beginning to ache fiercely now, her muscles to cramp. Ljuba knew there was a danger in spending too much time mirror-gazing, the danger that she might lose herself in visions, separate mind from body; it could happen to someone like her, someone without the strength of sufficient innate magic. But what was Finist about? It must be very important; he was too conscientious to leave his people so long for anything else.

And Ljuba persevered. She saw, through a haze of forest‑magic, the faintest image cast in a small, still pool: the image of an ordinary, plainly clad, brown-haired young woman. And, just for an instant, she saw, or thought she saw, a look of despair cross Finist's face.

I don't believe it. He's become infatuated with some dirty little peasant girl!

It struck her as funny, so ridiculously funny that laughter burst out before she could stop herself. With her loss of control, the mirror‑image that she'd labored so hard to achieve wavered, then slipped out of existence. Choking on her laughs, Ljuba let out a strangled oath instead, and set wearily about trying to establish the image once more. But this time there was nothing, nothing…

Ljuba sighed, staring up at the canopy of her bed. Five days. Five lost days of semiconsciousness. God! But magic did have its price, and that collapse was the price she'd had to pay for exhausting herself at her mirror.

But then, remembering, Ljuba tensed. «Has there been any word from the prince?»

«There has, indeed," said a sudden voice.

«Finist! Cousin, I — "

He gestured to Anya. «Leave us.» As the servant hurried to obey, he turned to Ljuba, face impassive. «You shouldn't try to spy on me, cousin. It's too exhausting for you.»

Ljuba didn't like that note of disinterested coolness in his voice. In almost unthinking response, she moved subtly in her bed so that the blankets molded themselves interestingly about her body, and let them slip, ever so slightly, back from one smooth, bare shoulder «I worry about you, cousin.»

«Thoughtful.» He reached down and calmly pulled the blankets back into place. «But totally unnecessary. I'm quite myself again, cousin. And I intend to stay that way. Good day to you.»

With that, he was gone, and Ljuba was left staring. «My God,«she said fervently, «it isn't infatuation at all! Finist is actually in love with that little peasant slut!»