Free Dagger's Edge (Shadow series) by Anne Logston

footsteps she’d heard hadn’t been Mera using her budding magery. Jael used one of her old eating knives to pin the note to the door and slipped through the halls, carefully avoiding the servants.
    She’d have to hurry before the twins returned to her room, found the note, and went tattling to Mother or Father. Jael would get in trouble enough when she got back for leaving without permission.
    The door to the room where the Gate had been placed was locked, of course, but Jael had a copy of the key, and the magical lock was set to recognize her; Donya had insisted, as a condition of Jael’s fostering in the Heartwood, that Jael be able to return at any time, night or day, should there be a need. Jael had never gone through the Gate alone before, though. Donya or Argent had always accompanied her, and Jael realized that they must have worried that her unusually bad luck might somehow affect even the Gate. Now that she thought about it, the idea gave Jael pause, too. Hurriedly, before she could change her mind, Jael took a deep breath and stepped forward—
    “Jaellyn, what are you doing?”
    Jael sighed and stopped where she was, turning. Argent stood in the doorway.
    “I was just—”
    “I know.” Argent held up her note. “I was just coming for you and the twins. Change your clothes and come down to the dining hall. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”
    “Yes, Father.” Jael sighed again and trudged back to her room, hoping she had something fairly presentable to wear. Father sometimes invited influential merchants, nobility from other cities, or elves from other parts of the land to supper, and on those occasions he did insist that the whole family attend.
    Jael rifled through her clothing, grimacing. She hadn’t kept up much of a wardrobe of finery, and most of it had met with the disasters that seemed to follow her around town. No matter how carefully the seamstresses measured and remeasured and gathered and tucked, she always looked rumpled and disheveled in even the nicest clothes, and she flatly refused to wear gowns; she inevitably found some way to trip over them every few steps. Irritably she pulled out a tunic and trousers that were in at least fair condition and jerked them on.
    Jael raked a comb through her curls, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her pointed ears large and obvious and twitching in her agitation, her bronze eyes strange. Maybe her tunic was a little tighter across her chest, maybe not. Probably not. Jael growled and gave her tunic one last tug as she ran down the hall.
    The first thing Jael noticed was that the light globes in the dining hall had been replaced by lamps and candles. Jael tried to tell herself that the new light globes were probably not ready yet, but a bitter part of herself knew that the new light globes had not been used so that there would be no unpleasant incident with a guest at supper.
    “There you are, Jaellyn.” Argent took her arm, leading Jael back to where Donya, hurriedly washed and formally attired, was conversing with someone. Markus and Mera were standing by, quiet and polite for once. “Lord Urien, my eldest daughter, Jaellyn. Jaellyn, I’m honored to present Lord Urien, Senior High Priest of the Temple of Baaros in Calidwyn.”
    Jael swallowed her surprise and attempted a curtsy; her foot slipped and she almost fell, only to be rescued by a cool hand taking hers. Jael hurriedly regained her footing and looked up in surprise into a pair of twinkling black eyes as her rescuer salvaged the gesture by raising her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles elegantly.
    “The honor is entirely mine, High Lord Argent,” Urien answered, his eyes smiling complicitly at Jael. He was pale as a sage who spent too much time in his cellar library. His face was lean and angular, delicate but not quite effeminate, narrow-lipped and vaguely exotic. Fine black hair feathered around his face in straight wisps. He wore