Clearwater Dawn Read Online Free PDF

steep slope that fell off to the north raising this side of the Bastion well above the walls of the keep and the fires of the distant harbor.
    From the sentry post above the stables, he’d watched the princess on that balcony sometimes, standing quietly as she scanned the skies after dark, hidden in shadow from any observation from the keep below. Never suspecting that Chriani’s eyes could pick her out in those shadows so that it might as well have been full day. He’d watched her movements behind the curtains, could hear her singing if the wind was right.
    In the room, Chriani forced his mind clear.
    The princess wasn’t there.
    Like the Bastion itself, Lauresa’s chamber had a kind of conspicuous straightforwardness about it, the same sense of military order here that pervaded the rest of the residence. The princess too like her father, Barien had often noted, though Chriani had never seen her that way. Chanist was earth, he thought. Solid. His oldest daughter was air, unreadable. Invisible.
    Here, two tables of dark wood, one spread with what looked like letters, two she was reading, one partly written to her stepmother, the Princess High Gwannyn. A tall shelf of wrought metal and thin marble sheets held four cases of neatly tied scrolls, a dozen bound books he didn’t look closely at. A wardrobe, open. Clothes within, riding boots in buffed calfskin. Past it, three windows were shuttered against the darkness, all bolted tight like the balcony door was bolted as he slipped past.
    By that door, a single chair meant that she wouldn’t accept visitors here, or at least wouldn’t accept visitors she didn’t know well enough to sit with them on the bed. There behind white curtains, another alcove, out of sight. Across from it, a hanging filled most of one wall, painted in what he recognized was the princess high’s own hand. The work of Lauresa’s stepmother adorned the prince’s court and the dining hall, her brushwork done in the delicate filigree style of Caella, capital of Elalantar where she was born.
    He recognized the scene that the silk-cast image rendered — the view from the city, just above the harbor. Atop the slope that rose from the Rheran docks, he was looking directly into the rising dawn. The falcon that was the sign of Brandis, house of princes, soared in that first light, the Clearwater burning orange-white where the shadow of the harbor islands rose along the distant horizon. True as a Clearwater dawn was an expression of oath across the Ilmar, that purity caught in this wash of light and color that Chriani thought he might have fallen into if he’d had more time to linger.
    A haze of evenlamp white shone through sheer lace drapes that closed off the sleeping platform. A tension threaded through Chriani even as he called, already knowing what he’d find there.
    “Lauresa…”
    He hadn’t known he was going to say it like that. Shouldn’t have said it like that. He could have found himself sweeping the stable yard for the rest of his life for addressing anyone in Chanist’s family by their given names.
    His voice had an edge to it that he didn’t like. He was on duty, he reminded himself sharply. Barien’s voice in his head. Look to the princess…
    He’d called her Lauresa, as he used to.
    Where he pulled the curtain aside, he saw the bed empty, turned down but untouched. He scanned the bright shadows, felt something twist inside him, his pulse quickening now. Mechanically inspecting the bed-platform, he noted the nightclothes hanging there, an ivory brush laid aside on a stool, boots standing neatly by the nightstand. The shoes had been by the door, he thought. He took all of it in, felt the impressions click into place as he slipped back to the room.
    No sign of a struggle meant there likely hadn’t been one. Shutters and balcony were bolted, Chriani checking them again one by one. The door was locked but it was the only way out. She’d left her shoes.
    She might simply have been