by Zoe Marriott
Then I frowned. She had been in there a few moments. What was keeping her?
Moving silently through the shadowy dressing room, I reached for the handle of the door that led to the receiving room. My fingers touched the metal, but did not turn it. There were voices on the other side. Not Osia’s off-key humming, but the rise and fall of conversation.
“ – of a rush job, not that they grudged it for poor Princess Snow. Imagine seeing everything you have sinking right to the bottom of the ocean.”
That was Osia, speaking in her usual gentle tones – but who in the Three’s name was Princess Snow? Was she talking about me?
“It’s happened to plenty of lesser folk,” a second woman answered with a sniff, loud and abrasive. Girda? “Pass me the big pair of scissors, quick. I want to get these laid out before she wakes and all the wrappings and strings tidied away too. If I never catch the sharp edge of her tongue again it’ll be too soon.”
“She’s not normally cross,” Osia said loyally. “You only caught her off guard, that was all.”
“Off guard? Pfft. Hold that string up, I don’t want to cut through – yes, that’s right.”
“Oof, these are heavy.”
“Only the finest for Princess Snow. Give me that one, it’s the muff. But you can take my word for it, girlie, your lady has a temper like a starving bear.”
“That’s not true! I’ve never had a harsh word from her! She’s nicely spoken as anything most of the time. Everyone loves her.”
“Well, she can float around the place in white as much as she wants, pretending to be so sweet and perfect –”
“Girda.”
“It’s true, isn’t it? But a fat lot of good it’s doing her. She might as well be a big lump of stinking seaweed for all the pleasure her company gives the Prince.”
“Girda – ”
“Seems to me little Uldarana wants something a bit warmer between the sheets than snow.” Girda said, sounding as if she was enjoying herself a great deal. Her voice had become louder and louder. It was almost as if she wanted to be overheard. “Morin told me that boy hasn’t slept in his own bed for the last three nights. It’s that common little Lady Silence we shall have as our Queen if my fine lady here doesn’t watch her step.”
I thought Osia protested again, more angrily this time, but I had stopped listening.
Uldar was sharing Shell’s bed.
Her smiling, blissful face gazing up at him. His slim, freckled arms around her. Her fingers clutching at his back. Lamplight glinting from the sweat on her collarbones, their hair mingling silkily as he laid his forehead down upon her pale, bare shoulder...
The game had changed. We were no longer a princess, a noble protector and an innocent lovely child, all circling the board. They were lovers. Star-crossed, opposed by family and duty, but drawn together by – fate? Love? It was them playing against me, now. Two against one.
I didn’t ask for this. Not any of this. This was supposed to be my place to hide and lick my wounds, an easier option than staying and facing my own fall from grace. It wasn’t supposed to be hard. It wasn’t supposed to be another fight that I couldn’t win.
What if I turned around, walked back into my bedroom, crawled under all those lovely warm layers of sheets and furs and just – refused to get back out again. Let them scramble to explain to everyone the strange malady that had afflicted Princess Snow. Let them tell Uldar he’d got his wish and I’d given up. Let someone else, anyone else, deal with untangling this nightmarish mess.
I could do it, couldn’t I? What would they do? Be disappointed at me? Lecture me?
They will send you home, you foolish girl.
My shoulders slumped.
I needed to find a new supply of my medicine. I needed to be able to look Miramand in the eye when her final illness came. I needed to stand strong and prove myself worthy – again – of the crown that should have been rightfully mine. No one else could untangle this. The mess was not of my making, but it was mine all the same. And I could not cry surrender. Not this time.
Too late to go back.
The knock at the door directly before my face startled me. I straightened, ran one hand over my wild hair, and – wincing – unclamped my lower lip from between my incisors. Curse it three times; it was bleeding again.
Osia jumped a little, backing away as I stepped through the door. I looked around, and saw to my relief that Girda was gone from the receiving room, having completed the task that Osia had asked for help with. A set of astonishingly beautiful ermines were carefully laid out over one of the couches, luxuriantly thick, with a silvery glitter to their whiteness. There was a muff and a little cap to go with them. Another thoughtful gift from Miramand.
“Highness, I didn’t think you’d be awake. It’s very early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I told her, forcing my lips into their best wooden smile, and hoping that the blood hadn’t stained my teeth. “I simply can’t wait to see Skalluskar.”
Before we left the room, on a whim, I packed the journal into my small dressing case. I had made a new addition, on the very first page which before I had left incomplete.
I had a new title, it seemed. So should my diary. The Book of Snow.
20
Several extra layers were required for travel in the Silingan winter. Fine woollen leggings, two extra silk petticoats and a long-sleeved chemise on top of my normal underthings, then a down-filled vest that sat atop my gown, and soft white kid boots, treated with wax and lined with lambswool, laced up to the knee. Despite all this, Osia’s deft fingers had me dressed and ready to leave far more quickly than I had anticipated. As we progressed down the grand curve of the staircase toward the back of the Palace I was still chewing my last bite of one of the Silingans’ heavenly breakfast pastries – buttery and flaky, filled with tart black jam that was spiked with citrus peel and some warm spice I did not know.
I pulled on long kid gloves, tucking them up under my dress sleeves. Behind me, Osia carried my furs reverently draped across her arms, since they were far too hot to don inside. Behind her, two footmen carried my travelling trunk and a case of other essentials. I was astonished to realise that I had already accumulated so much, so short a time after having arrived with only the hand-me-downs on my back.
The weight of gratitude that I owed the Queen grew heavier each day, and I was not even close, yet, to lightening that load.
But perhaps this expedition would be my chance to win back some ground. I must at least try to believe it, or else what was I doing here at all?
When we reached the ground floor, it was to find that we were the first to arrive in the echoing, open space that served to welcome visitors to the Silingana. I realised I had not seen it since the night I arrived here, of which I had little memory.
“Not many in the court are such early risers as you, Highness,” Osia said. “Would you like me to open up one of the salons so you can sit?”
“No, no, don’t take the trouble. I’m sure the others will be down soon.” And I would rather face Uldar and his smirking friends on my feet.
But no one came. After tapping my toe on the blue-granite floor for several minutes, growing hotter and hotter in my extra winter clothes, and watching the footmen and the maid, all attired in thick sealskin coats of their own, become blotchier and sweatier, I had Osia help me into the furs.
“We might as well go out and survey the weather,” I said. “And it will give the men a chance to get the luggage loaded up without fighting with anyone else for space. Which door? This one? Come along.”
Osia looked rather doubtful about this course of action, but the footmen, swiping at their red faces, seemed nothing but happy to be allowed to get outside.
The air beyond the door was icy enough to steal my breath for an uncomfortable step or two, and tighten the skin of my face. I almost thought I saw frost forming on the backs of my gloved hands before I hid them within the fur-lined comfort of the ermine muff. Nonetheless
, the moment I saw the sky above me – white shading blue and marked with feathery, curvilinear trails of cloud that made shapes like a hunting dog running, a hawk stooping, or a leopard leaping – I felt the quivering tension of my muscles ease.
At home I had ridden every day, practised the arts of battle with my tutors or my Mother in the palace yards, inspected troops, and walked the city or farm lands to speak to the people. My life here was so very different, I had almost forgotten how much I loved to be outdoors, to be moving. I must remember that this Silingan sun, tinted blue and somehow further away, was still the same sun I had always known. I turned my face up to the gradually brightening dawn light, grateful for the dark lenses of the glasses Osia had given me; the very tips of the towers above were burning with reflected glitter as the dawn crept up over the horizon of the mountains.
The stableyard itself was entirely ordinary. I found that something of a relief after the fantastical interiors of the Palace. Underfoot were the expected cobbles, swept well clean of snow or other debris, and not at all treacherous to walk on in my practical flat boots. Large buildings, punctuated with stable doors and graceful arches that led to other courtyards, echoed the lines of the Palace architecture but were built of practical stone. Beyond them I could see the dense, blue-green tops of the fir trees that I vaguely recalled blanketing the hills above Radavansk.
In the centre of the courtyard were three enormous sleighs. Each one would seat at least six people comfortably, and along with bodies painted in cheerful shades and decorated with gold plaster stars, they had rolled cloth canopies that could be pulled overhead if it came on to snow, and a large, flat area that protruded between the curved blades at the back, equipped with leather straps and buckles, for our luggage. Reassured that the trip was indeed going forward – I had not thought the Queen would toy with me, but it was increasingly obvious that Uldar himself could be effectively defiant when he exerted the effort – I directed the servants to load my things, and then dismissed them to head inside to their normal business, or to breakfast if they wished.
Osia curtsied to me prettily, seeming a little troubled as she left. I was certain she had been considering confiding Girda’s gossip to me, and grateful that she had had the sense to decide against it.
Alone at last, I wandered around the courtyard, poking my head into some of the arches to see if I could glimpse any of the animals. I had a very vague memory that they had a particular species of deer which ran on a harness. Perhaps these were the ‘pets’ Uldar had mentioned?
I turned with anticipation at a sudden flurry of noises from the building behind me. There was jingling, as if of bit and reins, some harried muttering in a tongue that I did not understand, several heavy thuds and the creaking of a door or gate. Unmistakeable animal sounds: snorting and huffing, deeper than I had ever heard from a horse or camel. The Rein Deer?
A colossal, deafening roar – like the hunting scream of a mountain lion, magnified by ten – tore the air apart. Every hair on my body prickled with lightning. Acting on pure instinct, I flung myself backwards, my spine slapping into the stone wall of the closest stable.
And then even instinct deserted me, replaced with a white buzz of panic in my mind.
Bears.
They were gigantic. Twice or maybe – no, at least three times the size of the brown bears of Yamarr. Each one was my height at the shoulder, moving on all fours. Standing, they must be eight feet tall or more. The massive, black-clawed feet made the cobbles tremble with each slow, measured step. Their heads swung back and forth on powerful shoulders as they walked, snorting and champing their jaws. Muscles bunched and flexed beneath fur that was mottled yellow-white and grey. The heads were tiny in comparison to the ridiculous bulk of their bodies, with small, black-tufted ears, small black eyes, and long, almost dog-like muzzles clearly designed to rip and tear.
There were three of them. Three.
The closest one looked directly at me, stropped one massive paw against the ground with a teeth-aching skreeeee and let out that tearing, rumbling roar again. The back of one of the sleighs was between us, but I did not fool myself for a single second that it would be an obstacle to the creature should it choose to charge. The entrance into the Palace was at my right, but to turn my back on this thing was more than my courage could support. My hands ached for a sword, a spear – anything that would give me the pretence of being able to defend myself.
“Oh. I thought I would be the only one down this early.”
Uldar’s voice at my elbow – not exactly pleased to see me, but entirely calm – injected the monstrous scene with a kind of dream-like quality that made me suddenly doubt the evidence of my eyes.
“Your Royal Highness,” I managed to respond, crisply formal. “I give you good morning.”
I watched in disbelief as the Prince, a fond smile in place, moved past me with his black-gloved hands outstretched and seized the closest bear’s head. He gave it a little shake, then scratched vigorously behind its ears as if it were a domestic cat. The bear closed its eyes and let out an eerie moan.
“How are you, Skipir? Grumpy as ever, old boy? What about you, Yuma and Boshi? Ready to stretch your legs for me, girls? Good girls, yes you are.”
There were bears in the stable yard. My future husband was rubbing a bear’s chin in the stable yard. And he was still ignoring me.
I pulled my shaking hands free of the ermine muff and heaved it as hard as I could at the back of Prince Uldarana’s head. It hit the target with a soft, entirely unsatisfying whomph, and tumbled lightly to the ground, but Uldar’s reaction was all I could have hoped for. Stiffening in place, he turned slowly from the bears – bears! – and stared at me with brewing fury.
“What in Morogana’s name do you think you’re doing, Princess?”
“Me?” I shrieked. The bears stirred restively, and I crushed myself back against the wall with a thump. “Why are you cuddling a bear?”
By the end of the question my voice had hit a heretofore unknown pitch and Uldar’s eyebrows had disappeared under his wavy fringe. “Did – no one tell you about my pets?”
I shook my head tightly, widening my eyes at him.
“I – see.” He bit his lip. Then he began to smile, and snigger, and finally he bent over to support his weight on his knees, guffawing with his back fearlessly turned to all three of the bears. “Oh dear. That – I can see – it might have been – a shock.”
“Do tell!” I snarled. “What in the three frosty Hells is going on, Uldar?”
By now all traces of polite distance had evaporated from his face and stance. He picked up my fallen fur from the cobbles and came toward me with a smile, putting his arm out as if to scoop me away from the wall.
“I’m sorry! You’re in no danger at all, I promise – they’re perfectly tame. Vangor! Come and talk to the Princess about my pets. You’re a responsible type, maybe she’ll believe you.”
As if summoned from nowhere by his name like a sand sprite, a small, weatherbeaten old man appeared amid the jumble of teeth and fur and claws. He was dressed much like a groom, and held a knot of red leather in his gauntleted fist. Reins. This enabled me to notice, for the first time, that the bears wore harnesses – thick red straps criss-crossing their broad backs and passing beneath their bellies. Little brass bells jingled at their shoulders.
“I greet you, Princess Snow,” the old man said. His accent was so thick that I almost could not make out the words. When I did, I stiffened at the use of the sobriquet. Before I could decide whether to react to the impertinence or not, the man turned more fully toward me, and I saw the great, puckered scar – white and long-healed – that bisected the left side of his face. It sliced his eyebrow into three pieces and pulled his mouth down into a perpetual look of disappointment. It was a wonder he had kept his eye on that side.
“The Prince be a-right,” the man went on, oblivious. “Them bears are harmless while you’re with me or the Prince. No need to be afeared.”
&n
bsp; “But – how?” I questioned faintly, as Uldar finally succeeded in drawing me away from my doubtful haven against the wall.
“When I was a boy, I went on a bear hunting party with my cousin Yasha’s men – the same cousin we’re going to see today,” Uldar said, with the air of one who has recounted the tale often. “It was a legendary hunt! We tracked our prey across the steppe for hours, but eventually the hunters brought her down: a great furst bear. They’re savage, and they hunt and eat men just as easily as they would deer or moose – sometimes they haunt the edges of isolated settlements picking people off. This one was rumoured to have taken several dogs and two herdsmen. But when the hunters went to skin and dress the kill, they realised she was a nursing mother. She must have had an out-of-season litter. It’s bad luck to hunters to leave babies to starve to death, so they tracked down her den to put the cubs out of their misery.”
Gently, as if not to spook me, Uldar guided one of my hands up to rest on the male bear, Skirpir’s, head. The bear bore the touch without moving, but without any of the pleasure it had evidenced at Uldar’s attention. This close it had a strange smell – half heavy grease, like melted tallow, half cured meat. I was grateful that it wasn’t my bare skin in contact with that strange fur.
I scratched its cheek tentatively, careful to keep my fingers far away from the massive jaw. It grunted and gnashed its teeth. I quickly took my hand away. I may not know bears, but I did know animals – forcing them to accept touch when they didn’t want it was always a bad idea, even if they were not giant wild animals capable of crushing my skull with a single paw-swipe.
“I assume these were the cubs of the man-eating bear, then? Why didn’t they kill them?”
Uldar shrugged modestly, but pride glowed in his eyes. “The poor things were so tiny and pathetic, I couldn’t stand to see them bashed on the head. So I begged for the chance to keep them. They all thought I was mad – I was only eight – but cousin Yasha gave me Vangor – his best animal handler – and said it couldn’t do any harm to try. I brought them back here and raised them as my pets. And it worked, as you can see.”
