Asaro, Catherine - Stained Glass Heart

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Stained Glass Heart
by Catherine Asaro
1
The Golden Suns
Vyrl slipped outside the castle, making sure no one saw him escape. Beyond the village, the Dalvador Plains
spread out like a silver-green sea of reeds rippling with the breezes. He took off in a loping run, the grasses
rustling around his legs.
Reveling in his freedom, he soon left the village behind. He ran for the joy of being healthy, strong, and full of
life. Out here he could be himself, rather than Prince Havyrl Torcellei Valdoria.
In his more introspective moods, Vyrl realized he lived in an idyll, his life marked by golden days. His parents
had set it up that way, to shield their children from the harsh life of the Imperial Court in an interstellar empire.
The colonists who had settled the world Lyshriol lived a simpler life, one close to the land. They cared more about
a good harvest festival than long titles or dynastic lineages. So Vyrl and his many siblings tended crops, pulled
weeds, and looked after livestock just like anyone else.
Reed-grasses rippled around him, the translucent tubes sparkling like glass but bending easily, supple and soft.
Iridescent spheres no larger than his thumb topped many of the stalks and floated off their moorings when he
brushed by. The drifting bubbles marked his path through the plains.
Running hard, throwing his arms wide, he relished the strength of his muscles and broadening shoulders. After
a year of gawkiness, when he had seemed to grow visible amounts every day, he had finally stopped feeling
gangly and awkward. He was more comfortable now with his new height and strength.
He tilted his head up, letting sunlight bathe his face. Two gold suns hung in a lavender sky, side by side right
now, shaped more like eggs than spheres, and speckled with dark spots. The double star destabilized the
terraformed planet, but Vyrl earnestly believed that by the time that difficulty threatened this world, well into the
future, his people would have figured out how to fix the problem.
Then Vyrl ignominiously tripped over a rock. Laughing, he staggered through the grass, flailing his arms until
he recovered his balance.
Eventually his pent-up energy spent itself and he slowed to a walk. He glanced back at the village. The distant
cluster of white buildings and colorful turreted roofs barely showed above the waving grasses. He could just see
the topmost level of his home. His family lived in a castle, a small but lovely one, with towers at the corners, each
capped by a blue turreted roof. Spires topped the roofs and pennants snapped on them, violet with gold ribbing.
Vyrl let out a contented sigh. Then he flopped on his back in the grass, breathing deeply, his heart beating
hard. Swaying stalks bent over him, releasing bubbles that glistened against the sky. Ah, what a day! He grinned,
relieved to have escaped his math homework.
A girl giggled.
Vyrl's sense of peace fled. He sat up fast. "Who is that?"
Silence.
Scrambling to his feet, he glared over the plains. The breezes blew his red-gold curls in his face, and he
pushed them out of his eyes.
He saw no one. Although a person could easily hide in the grass, she should have left a trail of bubbles
floating over whatever path she took here.
Vyrl peered back the way he had come. He had left more than a trail; his wild race had stirred clouds of
glimmering spheres. If someone was following him, she could have disguised her approach by keeping to his path.
He should have noticed someone skulking after him, but then, he hadn't been paying much attention. None, in
fact.
"Who is here?" he called, trying to sound forceful. The words came out more startled than commanding, but at
least his voice wasn't breaking anymore. It had finally finished changing and settled into a deep baritone, which
pleased him just fine.
No answer came to his question, however. The girl was playing a trick on him. Hah! He wouldn't let her rattle
him. He saw no trampled grass nearby, but the reed-grass always sprang back fast. He had flattened a great deal of
it when he lay down and already it was rising back into place.
Vyrl continued his search but found no trace of the intruder. He began to feel a bit foolish. Perhaps he had
imagined that giggle. Finally he lay down again, stretching out on his back with his hands behind his head.
Another giggle floated on the air like a bubble.
"Who is that?" He had heard her. Glowering, he jumped to his feet and stalked around the area, stomping at
the grass. "Who's there?"
Two bubbles detached from a nearby stalk and bobbed off over the plain. There! He strode forward, grasses
whipping around his legs.
A trill of laughter rippled in the wind. Then a girl jumped up out of the grasses, red-gold curls and blue skirts.
With a laughing glance in his direction, she took off and raced away.
"Hey!" he shouted. "Lily, you come back here!"
Instead of running after her, though, he hesitated. Lily was the daughter of a local farmer. She and Vyrl had
been friends practically since they had been born, but lately he had avoided her, unable to do more than stutter
banalities in her presence. Lily didn't look like Lily anymore. She had changed, become all curves and mystery.
She ran through the grasses, sending sprays of bubbles into the air. Her blue skirt swirled around her legs and
parted the high grass, showing glimpses of her thighs, then hiding them again. The top of her dress fit snug around
her torso, adorned by a maze of confusing laces. Vyrl had never figured out why girls needed so many ties on
their clothes. She made a beautiful sight, though, her waist-length curls flying in the wind, streaming around her,
shiny and red-bronze, touched with gold sun-streaks.
Hah! He wouldn't let her get away with spying on him. He took off in a sprint. In the village, he would have
held back, not wanting people to see them playing like children, but out here he felt less constrained. Chasing
Lily, making her shriek and laugh, had always entertained him. Now the thought of catching her made his pulse
quicken in a way that had never happened when they were younger.
Lily glanced over her shoulder, her gaze flashing with mischief, her large eyes taunting him with an audacious
gleam. Her teasing laugh sparkled across the plains. That laugh had been the bane of his existence for as long as
he could remember.
With his long legs, Vyrl easily gained on her. Coming alongside her, he grabbed her around the waist with a
gleeful shout. They went into a spin, their momentum whirling them around. He almost regained his balance by
swinging her in a dance step he didn't usually let anyone know he had learned, given that men weren't supposed to
dance. Then they toppled into the grasses in a tangle of limbs and clothes.
"Got you!" Vyrl flipped her onto her back. Still panting from his run, he pinned her upper arms to the ground.
"Say 'Give,' " he demanded. "Come on, Lily! I win."
In years past, she would have yanked up a clod of tube-reeds and thrown it at him, then escaped while he
yelled and wiped his eyes clear of the sparkling dirt that clung to bulbs on the grass.
Today, though, she wasn't laughing. She stared up at him, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, her
violet eyes huge. Most everyone in the Dalvador province had violet eyes, including Vyrl himself, but until this
moment he had never realized the beauty of the color. Her lashes glimmered gold, a thick fringe against her milky
skin. The rosy blush of her cheeks made his pulse race. He felt hot, then nervous, lying here, half on top of her,
gazing at her face, which was so familiar and so new at the same time.
Her emotions washed over his empath's mind: confusion, surprise, and an uncertain anticipation, sweet and
intense. It all mixed with another emotion harder to define, a warmth that spread through her and made him even
more aware of her curves. Vyrl flushed, unsettled by his heightened awareness of her. Usually he shared emotions
only with members of his family, who were the only empaths in Dalvador. Even then, they had to be near one
another to pick up moods, and they had learned to guard their minds, to give one another privacy. Yet with Lily,
his mental defenses were drifting away as if they were no more than ephemeral bubbles that floated on the wind.
They lay staring at each other, Vyrl with no idea what to say. Lily's mouth parted slightly, her lips full and
soft. So soft. Plump. How would they feel if he touched them?
Then she dimpled like an imp and grabbed a handful of reeds. "You must let me up, O clumsy sir, or I will be
forced to shower your head with sod." Although she spoke as always, full of play, she sounded different today—
breathless, a little scared.
In the past, Vyrl would have wrestled her for the grass. Today he murmured, "You must first pay a fine for
spying on me."
She gave a mock gasp of dismay, her heart-shaped face as expressive as ever. "And what terrible fine would
you wrest, you heartless beast, from a poor girl such as myself?"
"Not so terrible," he said softly. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
As often as Vyrl had imagined this moment, his daydreams were nothing compared to the real thing. A jolt
went through him as their lips touched. She tasted so sweet and felt so soft, her breasts against his chest, her body
round beneath his. His heart thudded hard, as if he were still running.
Lifting his head, he whispered, "Lily." Then he kissed her again, moving his hands up her sides, caressing,
feeling where her hips curved in to her waist.
Her emotions had become a confusing tumult. Ah, no, she wasn't responding. Mortification swept over him.
Had he made a fool of himself? If she pushed him away or laughed at him, he was going to die, utterly die.
Instead she slid her arms around his waist, her embrace tentative, as if she wasn't sure where to put her hands.
Her mouth parted under his and she nibbled shyly at his lower lip.
Vyrl sighed, almost giddy with relief. He wanted to untie her laces and pull up her skirts, touch her
everywhere, but he held back, afraid he would scare her.
Her emotions flooded past the natural barriers in her mind, the protections all people raised without realizing
it. Then he knew; this was her first kiss, as it was his. Despite his good intentions, his hands roamed. Still kissing
her, he stroked her sides, down and up, his touch urgent. He folded his palms around her breasts, filling his grip
with them—if only this cloth would disappear! He fumbled with the laces on her bodice, baffled by their
complexity. Frustrated, he pulled harder, straining to undo them. Pushing up her skirt with his other hand, he
reached for her thigh—
"Vyrl, no. Slow down." Lily pushed his hand away from her leg. She was breathing hard now, but she had
tensed, no longer pliant under him.
He groaned softly, one hand on her breast, the other intertwined with hers at his side. With her mental barriers
fading, he could feel her shy desire, but also her fear.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You're just so soft and pretty." He brushed his lips across her nose. "I could kiss you all
day."
Her blush deepened, as pink as a sunrise. He had always thought Lily was lovely, even in their early childhood
when cruder children had called her a "fat little sprout." Now the plump little girl had vanished, replaced by this
curvaceous beauty. Warmth washed out from her mind and he closed his eyes, letting it flow over him. She felt so
very, very right, as if he had always known he would someday hold her like this.
"You've been working on your father's farm a lot," she said. "I've seen you doing your chores."
Vyrl opened his eyes. "They don't seem like chores." He longed to kiss her more, but he held back, not
wanting to ruin this moment by pushing too hard. He shifted onto his side next to her, their bodies fitting together
like pieces of a puzzle. The grass waved above and bubbles shimmered in the air. One popped, scattering glitter
over them. Vyrl laughed, then flicked the powder off Lily's nose.
"I like to work in the fields," he said. He would far rather plow a field than study the physics his tutors
persisted in trying to teach him.
Her mouth curved upward, half shy, half teasing. "You look very fine out in those fields with your shirt off."
He flushed. "You watched me like that?"
"You know, Vyrl, you used to be skinny, like a stalk of too-tall-weed."
Hai! He never had liked it when people called him that, even if it had been true these past years, when he shot
up like the too-tall-weeds that grew over houses, seeking light from the suns.
"So what weed do I look like now?" He tried to make light of it, though he would really rather not be called a
plant.
Her face gentled. "You don't." Touching his cheek, she spoke in her lilting voice. "You look like a man now,
so strong and tall."
An emotion swelled in him, one he wasn't sure how to define. He knew only that he was where he belonged.
With a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed, he brushed back a curl that had blown in her face. Then he
kissed her again, barely able to believe he had her in his arms. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to make love
to her out here under the golden suns, just as he had so often loved her in his dreams. But he held back and did no
more than kiss her, taking it as slowly as she needed.
When the larger sun touched the horizon and shadows stretched across the plains, Vyrl and Lily headed back
to the village of Dalvador, walking hand in hand, smiling and shy with each other. Vyrl was in no hurry. Now that
he and Lily had made clear what had always been unspoken between them, they had plenty of time—their entire
lives—to explore what they had begun today.
The Hearth Room was empty. The fireplace at the far end of the long hall slumbered, its coals dark, no flames
licking its blue stones. No one sat in the armchairs there, and the standing lamps with their rose-glass shades
remained unlit.
Lost in daydreams, Vyrl walked across the other end of the long hall, far from the hearth, in the shadows. As
he passed the great stone staircase that curved up to the second floor, he glanced around to make sure he was
alone. Then he turned in a circle, pretending to dance with Lily. With a flourish, he snapped his foot to his knee
and spun fast, three times. He came out of the turn in a leap, jumping high off the ground. Then he landed on bent
knees and stopped, checking to make sure no one had seen him. Laughing softly at himself, he resumed his staid
walk.
"You're late," a voice said.
Vyrl froze. In response to the speaker, the lamps at the far end of the hall came on, shedding warm light over
the hearth. This far from the lamps, shadows filled the hall, but enough light filtered back to show a man standing
a few paces away, in the doorway Vyrl had been approaching. He hadn't heard anyone enter, probably because he
had been dancing.
Vyrl managed to find his voice. "Father."
Eldrinson Althor Valdoria, who carried the title of Dalvador Bard, looked to Vyrl like the hero of an epic
poem. At five feet ten, his father stood half a hand-span taller than the average man of Dalvador. He had a well-
built physique, his muscles firm from years of farming. Wine-red hair brushed his shoulders, its healthy sheen
visible despite the dim light. Even Vyrl, who understood almost nothing about how women saw such matters,
could tell his father had a handsome face, with its straight nose, high cheekbones, large eyes, and classical
features. Although Vyrl never knew how to respond when people exclaimed over how he resembled his father, he
considered it a compliment, more because he admired his father than because he cared about appearance.
"Where have you been?" Eldrinson asked, frowning.
"Out in the plains." Vyrl tried not to look guilty about his missed schoolwork. His father would never
understand. No one could. Vyrl was all brimming confusion and desire. Although his older brothers sometimes
saw girls in the village, he was certain none of them had ever felt the way he did about Lily, as if his heart could
soar one moment and shatter the next.
Eldrinson came over to him, and Vyrl again had the unsettling experience of looking down at him instead of
up. He had yet to become used to being taller than his father, and he was still growing.
"And while you were running in the plains," his father inquired, "who was doing your lessons?"
Vyrl imagined a black velvet cloth over his mind, hiding his thoughts about Lily from his father, who was a
strong empath. "I'll finish them tonight."
"You shouldn't leave them until so late."
"I can't study all day," Vyrl grumbled. "I'll turn into a mad marauder."
"A marauder?" Eldrinson tried to hold back his smile. "We can't have that."
Although his father had guarded his mind, Vyrl could tell he wasn't angry, either about the missed homework
or about Vyrl dancing, which he had probably seen.
"I feel suffocated in here," Vyrl said. "I need to run."
His father tried to look stern. "If you intend to carry through with this idea of yours, to earn a doctorate in
agriculture someday, you have to study."
"If I go to the university, I'll have to go off-world." The prospect dismayed Vyrl. "Maybe I could attend
through the computer webs instead."
"You mean in a virtual classroom?"
"Yes." Vyrl's mood lightened. "Exactly."
Eldrinson rubbed his chin. "I don't really understand it, these machines and things of your mother's people."
Having grown up with the technology his mother had brought to Lyshriol, Vyrl had never shared his father's
unease with it. Eager now, he said, "I've been checking colleges. Many have programs for virtual students. I
would never have to leave Lyshriol." He longed to learn the science behind the farming he loved. Lyshriol was
more than his home; the plains, the suns, the land itself were part of him at a level so deep he couldn't separate
them from his identity.
His father spoke carefully. "Many possibilities exist."
Vyrl could tell something more than unfinished homework was troubling his father. Disquieted, he looked
around. "Where is everyone?" Usually the house bustled with life. He had six brothers and three sisters, all at
home except for Eldrin, his oldest brother.
"They went to the festival in the village," Eldrinson said. "I've been looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
"To talk." His father's expression had become unreadable. "If you stay here on Lyshriol, your life will have
many constraints. You wouldn't have to accept those limitations if you went off-world."
Apprehension brushed Vyrl. "I don't want to leave."
"You may change your mind when you're older."
He pondered his father. Although Eldrinson didn't seem overly upset, he wasn't happy either. Vyrl had tended
to avoid his parents lately, but this cautious conversation bothered him. His father was shielding his mind more
than usual. It didn't feel right.
Vyrl went to the stairs and sat on the fourth step, stretching out his legs. "What happened?"
Eldrinson came over and leaned against the banister, his elbow resting on its gold curve. "You are familiar
with the House of Majda?"
"I guess." Vyrl knew Majda the way he knew the other noble Houses, as institutions he studied in school and
otherwise gladly forgot. In this age of elected leaders, the Imperial nobility were an anachronism—including his
own family, the Ruby Dynasty, which topped that antiquated hierarchy.
He winced, reminded of the history lessons he had neglected yesterday, earning his tutor's disapproval. His
mother's ancestors had ruled the Ruby Empire until that interstellar civilization had fallen, stranding its colony
worlds. During the ensuing dark ages, many colonies had lost their technology. Only in recent centuries had his
mother's people regained star travel and begun rediscovering the lost colonies, such as this one on Lyshriol.
Although Vyrl knew the House of Majda had been a strong ally of the Ruby Dynasty throughout history, he had
never met a single member of that venerated line. Majda belonged to off-world politics, like a distant fog.
"Devon Majda heads the House of Majda," his father said. "She inherited the title of Matriarch ten years ago,
just after her twenty-eighth birthday."
"Oh." Vyrl leaned back with his elbows on the stair above him.
Eldrinson shifted his weight, then cleared his throat. "As Matriarch, Devon has… responsibilities."
"I see." In truth, Vyrl had no idea what his father was talking about. He couldn't pick up anything from
Eldrinson's guarded mind. He wondered if he could make it to the festival in time to have dinner with his brothers.
"Do you know what those responsibilities are?" Eldrinson asked.
Was this a test? Maybe his father was more annoyed with him for playing truant than he realized. If he had to
stay in tonight while everyone else enjoyed the festival, he wouldn't see Lily.
He tried to sound knowledgeable. "As the head of her House, Devon Majda has a seat in the Assembly." Vyrl
scoured his memory. "Most councilors in the Assembly are elected leaders who represent various worlds. Only
the noble Houses have hereditary seats. It's left over from the days when the Ruby Dynasty ruled instead of the
Assembly." He squinted at Eldrinson. "You and Mother have seats, too, don't you? Mother is the Councilor for
Foreign Affairs."
"That's right." His father paused. "Your mother's seat is more than hereditary; she ran for election and won. It
gives her more votes."
"Oh. Yes." Although Vyrl admired his mother's work in a theoretical sort of way, right now he had more
concern for his growling stomach. Lately he was hungry all the time. He ate twice as much as his younger
siblings, but it never seemed to be enough.
"The Ruby Dynasty and Majda must balance their power with that of the Assembly," Eldrin said, still guarded.
Vyrl knew he was missing whatever his father wanted him to see. "I didn't finish my studies on Majda," he
admitted.
Eldrinson hesitated, discomfort leaking past his mental barriers. He didn't even admonish Vyrl for his lack of
scholarly effort. Instead he said, "As the head of Majda, Devon must ensure that her line continues."
Although Vyrl wasn't sure why his father cared, he could well imagine that the House of Majda was upset, if
their matriarch had reached the age of thirty-eight without producing any children. "She needs heirs."
"That's right."
When his father said no more, relief spread through Vyrl. Apparently the lesson was over. He stood up. "Shall
we join the others? I'm starving."
"Vyrl, wait." Eldrinson raked his hand through his hair. "We need to discuss this."
Vyrl stopped, then slowly sat again. "Discuss what?"
His father answered quietly. "Your betrothal."
What? The word thudded in on Vyrl. Betrothal? He must have misheard. "I'm not betrothed to anyone." His
voice cracked on the last word.
"I realize this is unexpected." His father gave him a look of apology. "Your mother and I had intended to take
more time, to let you adjust to the idea. This visit caught us by surprise. We've just received word that Brigadier
General Majda—that's Devon—will be here in two days."
A constriction tightened Vyrl's chest, making it hard to breathe. "Brigadier General? At thirty-eight?" He was
no military expert, but even he knew that however old it might sound to him, that age was young for such a rank.
"She's good at what she does. Very good." His father added dryly, "Her family connections don't hurt either."
Vyrl struggled to mask his turmoil, to hide the chaos of his emotions. Surely an escape existed from this
disaster. "This is too fast."
Sympathy washed across his father's face. "I'm sorry it is such a shock. Your mother and I want you to be
happy. Vyrl, we spent a great deal of time checking out Devon. She is a good person. And as the Majda consort,
you can follow pursuits you could never have here." Awkwardly he added, "Including an, uh, artistic career, if you
wish."
Vyrl barely heard him. All he could see was Lily, her lovely face bright in the sunshine, like a lost dream.
Betrothals among the noble Houses were political arrangements; his parents and Majda had probably been
negotiating for months, even years. These matters carried the weight of governmental decrees. Nineteen-year-old
Eldrin, his oldest brother, had married the Ruby Pharaoh three years ago, his own kin, as tradition dictated. But it
wasn't fair. He wasn't Eldrin. He wasn't the firstborn. He had three older brothers and three younger ones. His
parents had turned down offers for his other brothers, considering the matches unsuitable. Vyrl had never
expected they would accept one for him, especially with the highest placed member of the most powerful House.
What made it even worse was that he understood their reasoning. He was more family-oriented than his older
brothers, more suitable as a consort. If Majda needed an heir, she had to marry relatively soon, which left out his
younger brothers. And more than anything, he understood the gift his parents wanted to give him, the chance to
pursue his love of dance, something he could never do here on Lyshriol.
It didn't matter. He couldn't marry a female warrior. He couldn't do it. Just as men never danced on Lyshriol,
so women never fought in battle. His stomach clenched. If he revealed how he felt about Lily, his parents would
have her sent away, to remove a distraction that might interfere with his betrothal. He couldn't bear the thought.
He struggled for calm. "I don't want to marry."
Eldrinson spoke in the kindly voice Vyrl had trusted his entire life, but which gave him no mooring now. "It's
all right. You will have time to get to know her, to feel more comfortable with this situation."
"Why can't Althor marry her?" Vyrl thought of his brother; at seventeen, Althor was preparing to go off-world
to a military academy. "He wants that life. He would be perfect for her."
"You're the one she offered for."
"But why! Althor is older. So is Del-Kurj." In truth, Vyrl couldn't imagine anyone marrying his wild brother,
Del-Kurj, but that didn't make this any easier.
Eldrinson's face turned thoughtful. "I can only guess as to Devon's motives in regards to Althor. Majda is a
conservative matriarchy. I suspect Devon doesn't want a fighter pilot for a husband. As for Del-Kurj…" He made
an angry wave with his hand. "Let's just say he has had a few indiscretions."
Few, Vyrl would have laughed if he hadn't been so upset. Del-Kurj already knew more about women than
most grown men in Dalvador. He liked girls and they liked him, and he made no secret about it, despite the
trouble it caused him. Del hadn't fathered any children yet, but if he kept up in the way he'd begun it would only
be a matter of time.
Vyrl spoke in a low voice. "Does the Assembly want this betrothal, too?"
His father nodded. "Stronger ties between Majda and the Ruby Dynasty will cement alliances the Assembly
sees as crucial to the stability of our government."
"I don't want to stabilize a government." He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.
"Ah, Vyrl." Eldrinson's voice held deep regret. "I am terribly sorry this news is unwelcome. If it helps to
know, your mother and I truly believe this can be a good match. Devon Majda will treat you well, with respect
and honor."
"She's ancient"
His father's expression lightened. "If she is ancient, I fear to ask what that makes your mother and me." His
smile faded. "We do have concerns about the age difference. But with modern techniques to delay aging,
eventually you won't be so aware of it." Gently, he added, "You may come to love her, in time."
Vyrl could only shake his head. His dreams were slipping away, like the glitter from a ruptured bubble
spreading on the wind.
2
The Silvered Plains
The circular chamber was high in a tower of the castle. Vyrl stood at the window looking out over the
countryside. The three figures crossing the Dalvador Plains were too far away to see clearly, but he recognized his
mother's streaming gold hair and his father's confident stride.
Beyond them, about a fifteen-minute walk from Dalvador, the starport made a cluster of whitewashed
buildings with blue turreted roofs. It resembled a Dalvador hamlet—except for the gold-and-black spacecraft that
crouched on the landing field like an intruder. The shuttle had come down from one of the battle cruisers that
orbited Lyshriol. Vyrl had never thought much about the ships up there, beyond knowing they provided one of the
best orbital defense systems in settled space. If only they could have defended him against the arrival of Brigadier
General Devon Majda.
He wished he could fly away, beyond the suns in the lavender sky. The larger orb was eclipsing the smaller,
like a great golden coin surrounded by a halo. To the east and south, farms drowsed in the sunlight, uncaring of
interstellar politics. Nearer by, his parents and their guest reached the village. He lost sight of them as they walked
in among the houses.
Vyrl bit his lip, his heart aching for Lily. He glanced toward her home, a round white house on a hill,
surrounded by other houses. He hadn't dared talk to her in the past two days, since their afternoon together. He
had never made it to the festival that night, having been grounded for his truancy. He missed her so much, as if
someone had taken out his center and left him with a hole only she could fill.
Yesterday he had seen her while he was walking to his father's farm with Althor and Del-Kurj. She and some
other girls had been carrying baskets of bubble fruit. Before he could even think, he had started toward her, his
heart surging, his pulse racing. He had gone only a few steps when his brothers called him back.
He couldn't confide in them. Given that one of his brothers might have to marry Devon if he didn't, he doubted
they would want Lily distracting him, but neither would they want to betray his trust. Rather than put them in that
awkward position, he said nothing. They knew he was hiding his moods, but they respected his privacy and never
pried, neither with word nor thought.
Disheartened, Vyrl turned from the window and sat on an elegant stone bench against the wall. He came here
when he needed to soothe his agitation. His mother had once referred to this chamber as a "balm for his
tempestuous soul." He wasn't sure what she meant, but he did like the austere beauty of this room, with its
polished bluestone walls, domed ceiling, and a floor tiled in squares of blue and white stone. Designs in bas-relief
bordered the ceiling and floor, as if the chamber were a round gift box—with him as the present.
That last thought dispelled his tenuous serenity. With every fiber of his being protesting, he made himself
stand up. He crossed to the arched door of the chamber, but he paused without opening it. Such a beautiful door.
He could stay here all day admiring it. Really. He loved its vibrant color. Made with layers of blue-stalk from the
Stained Glass Forest, it glowed like a mountain lake. His mother had told him about an off-world substance called
"wood" that came in brown shades and didn't glow. He found it hard to imagine such dullness.
As much as he would have been happy to appreciate the door for the rest of the day, he could no longer
procrastinate. So he left the chamber and descended the bluestone stairs that spiraled down the tower. He had
dressed formally today, in blue trousers with a darker belt embossed in silver. Soft boots came to his knees. Gold-
leaf designs bordered their top edges and also the cuffs and collar on his white, bell-sleeved shirt. Thongs laced up
the front of the shirt.
At the second story of the castle, he exited the tower into a hall of lavender ash-stone. Wall sconces held
purple-glass lamps lit with flames. He thought of stopping to turn on the superconducting light rods hidden in the
ceiling, but he didn't pause. It would only delay the inevitable by a few moments, and besides, today he wanted no
reminders of off-world technology—or off-world technocrats.
Far too soon, he reached the top of the stairs that went down to the Hearth Room. The great staircase curved
around, this part hidden from view of the hall below. Vyrl stood on the landing, straining to hear. Voices came
from below, his parents and a woman with a husky contralto. He clenched the banister, unable to continue. He
couldn't go down. He couldn't.
But if he didn't appear soon, his parents would send someone for him. So he fortified his resolve and
descended. Halfway down he came around the curve of the staircase; stopping there, he looked out over the
Hearth Room. His parents and an unfamiliar woman were standing at the far end, near the hearth, unaware of him,
sipping from ruby goblets. A girl with gold curls had just served them, judging by her empty silver tray. As she
walked down the hall, she glanced up. Seeing Vyrl, she started, her mouth opening. Then she averted her gaze and
hurried on her way, leaving the room.
Vyrl's face burned. He had known her for years. She and Lily were always giggling together, often at him,
though he had never understood why they found him so amusing.
Now she wouldn't even acknowledge him. After the news about his betrothal had spread in the village, his
friends no longer seemed comfortable with him. Did they look away because he had become different, his title
made real, the son of a mysterious queen who came from above the sky?
摘要：

StainedGlassHeartbyCatherineAsaro1TheGoldenSunsVyrlslippedoutsidethecastle,makingsurenoonesawhimescape.Beyondthevillage,theDalvadorPlainsspreadoutlikeasilver-greenseaofreedsripplingwiththebreezes.Hetookoffinalopingrun,thegrassesrustlingaroundhislegs.Revelinginhisfreedom,hesoonleftthevillagebehind.He...

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