Wind Over Bone: The Estralony Cycle #2 (Young Adult Fantasy Romance) by E. D. Ebeling

Darabel-thingies, then refuse to prove it.”
    “ It’s Daralaibel , my good human,” said Darod.
    “ Whichever it is, I shall sick Sarid on you if you don’t dance.”
    Rischa drew a sharp breath. “Where’s Yoffin?”
    “Oh, me legs,” said Darod, “me poor aching shanks, mashed to a pulp by sitting a horse five days.”
    “ By God and the Lady,” said his sister. “Your modesty exhausts me. Somebody bang out a rhythm. He’ll be up here spooling about before you can say ‘liar’.
    “ Here, someone give me a spoon,” called one of the Gireldine retainers. “I love banging.”
    “ I saw a viola on the mantle in the next room,” said Maerive.
    “ I’ll get it,” said a Gireldine boy, but another boy jumped up before him.
    “ No you won’t. You played last time. Hold him for me, Mae.”
    In the space of three seconds it seemed, the Girelden had struck up a loping tune and Darod was out of his seat, cheeks flushed. “I’ll need a partner now, as I hate attention,” he said, and his sister gave a boar-like snort. “How about you, Miss Leva? Anyone can dance a jig.” He pulled Leva to the front of the room, where she looked acutely embarrassed. “All you have to do is jump around like a rabbit.” He took her hands and started jumping with her, as high as he could go, flinging her arms way up, and soon Leva was red and laughing.
    His footwork grew more elaborate, and Leva slowed down to look at it. “Follow me, lazy, follow me,” cried Darod. “Just because you’re bigger you haven’t got to dance like a bear.”
    But Leva came to a complete stop , her face drawn in shock, eyes never leaving the man’s feet. For they had left the floor and were hopping about in the air, bouncing on what seemed an invisible wire. He twisted round and threw out steps in every direction, his face mad with joy.
    Finally he slowed and his feet reattached to their shadows. “I’m done,” he said. Then he sat down on the floor and put his head on his fist, as though he were exhausted, which, of course, he was.
    Savvel was first on his feet, clapping. Everyone else rose, and the musicians bowed, faces beaming.
     
    ***
     
    The Noremes departed early the next morning, meaning to reach the Lorilan king before the month was out, leaving the comatose Reglime princess at Charevost. It felt as though the hall had born a summer storm and then been suddenly emptied of it. The air was wound tight and loose, and Sarid and Rischa went up to the infirmary to look upon the princess.
    She’d had been given her own sickroom. Rischa turned the handle and opened the door. Sarid stepped behind him into the room, and they both stopped, arrested, when they saw the girl in the bed. She was curled beneath the grey wool coverlet, her cheek resting against her hand. Her skin was pale, her hair white and fine as unspun flax, her lips curved in a smile that seemed horrible and secret.
    “She’s beautiful,” whispered Rischa.
    She was Sarid’s sister.
     
     

Six
     
     
    Sarid broke from Rischa when they left the infirmary, saying she had herbs that needed hanging. Though it was spring and the herbs had quite a bit of growing to do, he let her go without question, a preoccupied smile on his face.
    Sarid took a roundabout way back to the infirmary, looked about for the medic, saw no one, and re-entered the princess’ sickroom. She leaned over the bed and stared at the girl’s sleeping face. “Thayelste,” she said.
    The eyes opened, black as Sarid’s own. She didn’t move at all, just said in an admonishing voice, “Sister! You’ve kept me waiting.”
    “What are you doing?” said Sarid.
    “ Playing dollhouse.”
    “ What?”
    Thayelste sat up and shrugged her fine hair over her shoulders. She took Sarid’s forearms and pulled her close. “Join me. It will be the peak of fun.”
    Sarid pulled away. “What’ve you done with the real princess, Yelse?”
    Yelse sighed, settled back against her headboard. “She died with