by Katy Haye
Something stirred in my breast. Excitement. I was sorry to leave my home, and sorrier still for the weight of expectations my father had set on my shoulders. But despite that, the future rolled out before me, full of opportunities. I was going to Muirland City, capital of the kingdom. I was going to court, a feted daughter for the first time ever. Possibilities rose like the hills I could dimly make out on the mainland: cloudy and uncertain. My life was truly starting now. And I would snatch every piece of pleasure I could from all the experiences that lay ahead. I would plot and scheme to marry the prince, not for my father’s sake, but for my mother’s. And in the span of time that lay between then and now I would seize as much enjoyment as I could for my own sake.
“Well met, father!”
I turned at the overloud call. A young man stepped off the yacht, swaggering toward us. He looked like a younger version of Father: the same dark hair and eyes, the same arrogance, the aura around him that everyone he met existed to do as he wanted.
There was, of course, a reason for their similarity. Just when I was starting to think I might find a way to enjoy myself, that expectation was squashed: my father’s heir, my eldest half-brother was to come to court, too.
Prince Jaran
“Wht or yoo doin hur?” The king burst into complaint before Jaran had fully entered the room. The prince closed the door so they might be private. He had come to talk through council business, intending to seek his father’s advice, but he knew immediately that would be futile.
“I came to see how you are, father,” he said softly, stepping closer to the bed and sitting in the chair set at the bed’s head.
“I dunt ned yoo fussing like I’m a babby.”
Jaran watched his father’s face as he spoke. The damage was so extensive it had altered his speech, making it difficult to follow his words at times. “I don’t mean to fuss,” he replied calmly. “I would not neglect my sire.”
“Yoo shud be ut drachen huntin,” the older man snapped, the fury in his tone clearer than the words.
“The treaty forbids that, father. I am truly sorry, but there was no way around it.” He wasn’t sorry. It was a concession he’d willingly made to the fae. The kingdom didn’t need dragons; the mages needed dragons, while Jaran considered a reduction in those mens’ scheming power to be a good thing.
The king slammed his hand on the bedclothes in fury, a gesture lessened by the softness of his palm’s landing. He was used to standing over his council at a solid table, but those days had slipped away. His face reddened, a response, Jaran suspected, to the sense of powerlessness. Feebleness didn’t sit well on his proud father’s shoulders. “Whor is the hid of the drachen who did thus?!” the king demanded. “I wont it on my woll!” He lurched forward, gasped with pain and slumped back, coughing.
“I understand your anger, father, we –”
“Dunt coll me ‘fother’ in thut insullent tone!” he raged. “I am yoor king!”
Jaran bowed his head. “Forgive me, sire. I meant no disrespect.” His heart twisted at the sight of his father, enraged in his feebleness. Weakness was so much harder for a strong man to bear. “The dragon who harmed you is dead.” His sister had written with that news, knowing it would mollify their father.
King Haran leaned his head back against the pillows, a satisfied sigh filling the air. Jaran steepled his fingers and waited, glad the king didn’t once more demand a mounted head for his wall. The dragon who’d injured him was actually a dragon shifter, and the head of a fae woman displayed above his bed would be distinctly macabre.
“Is Jurelle roddy fu hur journey?” The king demanded suddenly.
Jaran looked up, blinking at the sudden change of subject. “Jurelle?”
The king grunted in impatience. “Yos, your sister. Is she roddy for her morridge?”
Jaran swallowed. “She is already married, sire.”
His father stared, confusion clouding his expression. Jaran’s heart sank. The dragon’s claws had wrecked his father’s face, but over the weeks since it was as though the damage had sunk further and twisted the mind beneath. His mind had never wandered so far from reality before. Jaran had thought it a temporary symptom. Now it seemed that hope was false.
“Hu long huv I bin hur?” the king asked softly.
“It’s been nine months since your injury. The princess Jurelle was married six months ago.” Jaran stated the facts and waited, half-expecting fury.
Instead, the king settled back, turning his face on the pillow so his scars were uppermost. “Liv me,” he said shortly.
Jaran obeyed, slipping silently from the room. He breathed a slow sigh as he shut the door behind him. A healer hovered in the anteroom. Jaran met the grey-robed man’s face. “Can anything be done?” he asked. The question had been asked before, but if his father’s mind was starting to wander again, matters were becoming more urgent. And if nothing could be done, then that fact must be faced.
The healer gave an apologetic shrug. “We can keep him comfortable.”
Comfortable. That was an ignoble end for a king who once bestrode the corridors of the palace, bellowing orders, sending servants cowering in fear and his nobles bowing in respect.
“Then continue to do so,” Jaran instructed.
He left the sickroom, nodding to the guard posted outside. As he stepped along the corridor he noted what a contrast he posed: no stomping, no bellowing. He was a very different man to his father – his lips curled in acknowledgement of how deeply true that was – and yet he had to rule a kingdom that was slow to change.
Most of all, he had to rule a council who were quick to scent weakness and eager to exploit his youth for their own gain. The contest he’d announced was partly to give them something to focus on, a reason to support him. But once it was over, there would be one victor and four losers – four families he must ensure didn’t end the contest with a grudge. He knew perfectly well that four families united would be enough to bring down a regent newly seated on his throne.
He pushed open the door of his office and strode inside. The work of a ruler was never done. His gaze alighted on the games board set in the corner, the counters set either side ready to start. This wedding contest was like a game of nine dragons gold, he told himself: he needed to ensure all the pieces ended in the right places so he could capture them, one by one, and end the matter victorious. It was easy in his thoughts but much harder in reality. But he wouldn’t falter; he couldn’t risk defeat.
6 – On My Own
“You’re gawping like a yokel,” Martyn snapped as we rode into the city, his tone a mix of amusement and contempt, and deliberately loud enough to ensure our father heard. My hands tightened on my reins and my mare swung her head in annoyance. When I’d last been in company with Martyn, five years ago, he’d been an arrogant bully. Time hadn’t improved him. He was supposed to have used the journey to help me improve my understanding of the Muirland court. Instead, it seemed a sister raised hidden away from society was the perfect target for him to exercise his supposed superiority on.
Father swung around to inspect my behaviour and I spoke quickly. “I am rightly impressed by the might and beauty of the palace created by our royal family. I would not be so uncouth as to gawp.” The House of Compassion was the largest building on Senna island, but it looked like little more than a livestock barn in comparison to Muirland City’s palace.
Father turned back to face the palace that was our destination. “You bicker like children half your ages.” His attention fixed on Martyn. “And you’re not too old for a beating if you damage your sister’s chances.”
My half-brother paled, glaring at me as though it was somehow my fault he’d tried to get me into trouble and failed. “I only sought to ensure my sister doesn’t bring shame to our family. Should I not correct her poor behaviour?” he demanded.
Father huffed. “Correct her quietly if you must. Don’t speak so loudly all must hear her errors.”
Martyn smirked, clearly d
eciding he’d won. I didn’t respond. Let him have his petty victories. I’d save my energy for the prince.
A path had been cleared for the arriving families through the middle of the city and people huddled close, looking up as we passed by. I reached into a pocket for the half-pennies I’d brought from the House. I glanced at my father’s back. I hadn’t told him of my intention, because I knew he would object. But I had my own ideas and I would approach this contest in my own way, as much as I was able to.
I threw a handful of coins into the crowd, who gasped and scrambled for them. “Wishing health and strength to his highness, Prince Jaran!” I called, casting a second handful to the crowd on my other side.
“The prince!” The crowd called eagerly, those who’d been successful raising their arms and cheering while others scanned the ground for missed coins.
I smiled, throwing the final few half-pennies into the hopeful crowd. Father’s brows were drawn together in annoyance, but he didn’t say anything while we were in public.
The moment we crossed the palace boundary, where the crowd was not permitted, he rounded on me. “What nonsense was that?”
“The sisters raised me to be generous to those less fortunate than myself.” I smiled serenely at my father. “The common people of the city will be hoping for my success now.”
He scoffed. “Who cares what the common people think?”
“I’m sure the prince would be happy to have a bride who is popular with the people of the kingdom,” I stated calmly.
“He’s hardly going to walk around asking the shopkeepers who they recommend, is he?” Martyn scoffed, snickering at his own wit.
“I could afford it, and the gesture will do me no harm if the prince comes to hear of it.”
“He will think you a simpleton,” Father snapped. “If you wish to impress people, kindly focus your attention on those who matter.”
“I will have to take your guidance on that, Father, since I know little of court life. You must tell me who I should impress and who can be safely ignored.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched me, “Pertness is not attractive, daughter. I thought the sisters had raised you to be obedient, and silent when your opinion is not needed.”
I dropped my gaze. “Yes, Father.”
Martyn smirked. Heat rose in me. Perhaps it was fortunate that grooms and servants ran up then to take the bridles of the horses.
“Welcome to the palace, Lady Hanna.” An immaculately dressed servant stopped before me, offering a respectful, yet businesslike curtsy. She was small and compact, her face wrinkled and her hair drawn back in a bun streaked with grey.
“Thank you.” I straightened at the term of address. We were less formal at the House, where the sisters simply used my given name. But I was the eldest daughter of the family; the honorific belonged to me by right. And it was a useful reminder of how matters would be at court. I had to remember what was due to me, and what was due to others simply because of birth and family connection. I hated to accept that my half-brother knew anything, but a slip-up in how I addressed someone of importance would make me look a fool, which would harm my chances. I would need to step carefully.
“I will show you to your room. Follow me, if you please,” the maid said.
I glanced back to where father and Martyn had dismounted and were talking to the ostlers.
As though she guessed my thoughts, the maid spoke again. “One corridor has been set aside with rooms for all the candidates.”
“I won’t be lodging with my family?” Father had spoken of a welcome feast. After that, I had supposed we would all retire to the house he kept in the capital.
“All the candidates will stay at the palace until the choice is made.”
“I see.” I swallowed. My ignorance of court matters was showing already. I should have realised the prince would want us on hand at all times, to gather all the information he could to make his decision. I lifted my chin, because if I’d made a mistake at least the servants wouldn’t upbraid me for it. “Perfect. I’m looking forward to meeting his highness. Please, show me the way.”
The maid bobbed her head and turned towards the steps into the palace. I followed. I was both buoyed and alarmed to be free of father’s interference. I would have no one to nag at me – but nor would I have him on hand to guide me.
As I mounted the steps to the palace entrance, Father strode to my side to grab my elbow. “Remember what is expected of you,” he hissed.
“Of course.”
He leaned closer. “And remember what you stand to lose if you fail.”
I shuddered. Mama; her life now lay in my hands. I straightened and faced my father. “I know the stakes, sir.” I dropped a brief curtsy and took another step after the maid.
Father turned away without another word. The last I saw of my family – for now – was my brother, smirking. I sighed. I hoped I wouldn’t need any actual help from either of them. I suspected I was firmly on my own.
7 – Every Detail
The maid led me through numerous corridors and up stairs. I tried to let the splendour sink in as though it were entirely ordinary rather than the most wealth and beauty I’d ever seen in my life. Even Father’s country estate where I’d lived until the age of twelve was nothing by comparison.
Outside, the palace was a thing of beauty with its massive stones carved in wondrous shapes and patterns. The grandeur continued inside, with wooden floors polished to a shine, plaster painted with scenes from history, and paintings and hangings crowding every spare corner.
“My name is Gulla,” the maid said over her shoulder. “I have been assigned to serve you while you are here, Lady Hanna.”
“Thank you, Gulla. I suspect I shall need you for a guide if nothing else.”
“I’m sure you’ll find your way in a day or two.” She glanced back, her expression serious. “But I will, of course, provide any help you need.”
I wanted to ask her about the other candidates, but I feared that ventured too close to gossip. There was something about the woman’s straight back and the precise neatness of her that underlined the distinction between servants and guests in the royal household. There would be no openness like on the island.
“Am I – am I the first to arrive?” I hoped that was an acceptable way to fish for the information I craved.
“The Lady Rannyl and Lady Glynneth arrived earlier today.” Gulla’s words confirmed which of Lord Clofe’s daughters had been selected to impress the prince. “And the others are expected at any moment.” She turned down a final corridor and opened a door at the end. “This is your room.” She threw the door wide so I could step inside first, bowing her head and curtsying as I stepped past into my assigned room.
My feet sank into thick carpet and I tried not to show my awe at the spacious interior.
My trunk sat in the middle of the floor, lid flung open while another maid unpacked its contents. A wide bed was set against the wall opposite two windows that spanned from the ceiling almost to the floor. A shelf held several vases filled with scented flowers. Drapes shifted in the breeze, wafting the scent of flowers through the room. There was a sofa, and a table by the window with two chairs so I could entertain if I chose. The colour scheme was pale; whites and blues. It was the most sumptuous space I’d ever been in. “I thought we were supposed to be seducing him,” I murmured, turning a circle. The advantages of royal living were clear to see. I was used to frugality from the House of Compassion, and the contrast was sharp.
“What’s that, my lady?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, Gulla. It is a beautiful room. My thanks to whoever chose it.”
“The prince wants you all taken very good care of.” Her tone was stiff with pride. It was, I thought, more than respect. Loyalty. The prince inspired loyalty in his servants. That had to be a good thing, although my stomach churned like storm-tossed waves at the knowledge of the phial in my pocket and the disloyalty it represented.
I nodded
. For a crazy moment I had the urge to ask her about the heir to the throne, but the set of her shoulders told me I would get nothing from her, and I didn’t want to gain a reputation for gossiping. I would see him soon enough and have the chance to make up my own mind.
“There is a schedule for the week.” She indicated the table and I walked soundlessly across the thick carpet and picked up the sheet of paper. I knew in general terms what was expected: we would be here for a week, each with a chance to spend time with the prince and to show our talents and abilities. The prince’s birthday fell at the end of the week and we would celebrate that, after which he would announce his decision.
I swallowed, seeing that end point scrawled in ink across the paper. I had to be the one chosen. I couldn’t fail mama.
“Do you need anything, my lady?” Gulla waited for me to shake my head. “I’ll return when it’s time to prepare you for tonight’s feast.” She strode around the bed to a door I hadn’t seen. “His highness has provided a wardrobe for all the candidates, if it pleases you.” She opened the door to show the gowns hanging inside.
My breath caught. The dresses were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. My worries that my provincial wardrobe would embarrass me vanished in a moment. How could I not be pleased? At a glance I could see they were in the most up to date style, some plainer for day and others more ornate for the evenings’ feasts. All my gowns were shades of browns and reds, perfectly suited to my complexion.
I didn’t know much about the prince, but the same was clearly not true for him. He must know every detail of each of the candidates to be so prepared. “It definitely pleases me,” I told Gulla.
The maid unbent enough to smile. “Washing water is on the stand,” she pointed. “And I’ll have a bath drawn for you an hour before the feast if that is suitable.” Her instructions were brisk. I told myself that was a good thing. If I didn’t know what I was supposed to do at any particular moment, I was sure Gulla would never be similarly lost.
