by Anna Sheehan
The kit was huddling right beside the fire, still shuddering from her dunking. ‘Aren’t you warmed through yet?’ I asked when I saw her.
‘N-no,’ she stammered.
‘Where’s our ma?’
‘Sh-she went out to try and find a chi-chicken.’
‘Good,’ I said. I pulled my drop spindle out of my shirt.
‘No, don’t!’
‘You want to freeze to death?’ I asked.
The kit looked down at the ground. I’d sounded more harsh than I’d intended. I was still put out by my encounter with the princess. ‘Hold still.’ I spun out another strand of thread, spinning the fire into a tight whirl of heat. The fire looked much smaller, but the heat which came from the green logs was three times hotter. The kit groaned with joy as the heat reached through to her bones, and she leaned into the warmth. ‘Not too close, it’ll burn you,’ I said. I snuck in under the blanket with her and settled her on my lap. Between my fire and my arms she soon stopped her shuddering.
‘What’s wrong, my brother?’ she asked me once her voice was under control.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘You can make light of something, but it is eating at you. I can feel it. Not our close call this morning?’
‘No,’ I said. That was just a matter of course.
‘Then what is it?’
‘I said it was nothing. I only betrayed myself and the family, nothing of any concern.’
Since I was clearly not grabbing all our meagre possessions and running for a new shelter, as I would have done had our burrow been revealed, the kit only snuggled closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. ‘And how did you do that?’
‘I met the youngest daughter of Queen Amaranth today,’ I said. ‘And I didn’t kill her on sight.’
‘You saw Princess Willow?’
‘I met her,’ I said. ‘I spoke with her. She offered to loan me her library. And I didn’t spit in her face. I did not snap her fingers one by one as she begged for mercy. I did not spin her into a noose and watch her dance, turning blue in my gallows. I did not cut out her heart and send it to her mother in a box with a ribbon.’
The kit laughed. ‘You wouldn’t have done those things, anyway.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ I whispered, and I kissed the kit on the temple. If the kit had died this afternoon, I might just have tried to do those things, to anyone and everyone. I knew how strongly my anger raged when someone I loved died.
‘What was she like?’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What?’
‘Princess Willow. What was she like?’
‘Since when do you follow royal gossip?’
‘I’m just curious. Was she as haughty and greedy as you said?’
My face twitched as I tried to figure it out. ‘No,’ I said. ‘She was haughty, all right. I suppose she might be greedy, too. But not in the ways I would have thought.’
‘What else of her?’
‘She smells of roses,’ I said, and blinked. I hadn’t noticed that I’d noticed. One of the annoying things about being Nameless was that I didn’t see myself very clearly, so I sometimes ended up doing or saying things I hadn’t planned or expected to do. The memory of the princess’s scent batted at me with soft paws. ‘And she’s very tall,’ I added. ‘To begin with, I had no idea it was her. She’s stocky, and was dressed as a boy.’ I spun the story as I would my thread, until the kit was laughing in my arms. At least I could get some good out of my humiliation.
The kit was impressed by the story. ‘So are you going to meet her at the monument?’ she asked.
‘You’re joking,’ I said. ‘I only agreed to that when I thought she was some rich merchant’s son, not the thrice blasted Princess of Lyndaria.’
‘So?’ the kit said. ‘She knew who she was all the time.’
‘She doesn’t know who I am,’ I growled.
The kit nuzzled her nose deeper into the blankets. ‘Neither do I. But I think you ought to meet her.’
‘Why?’
The kit shrugged. ‘I just think you should. Think about it. What have we got to lose?’
‘Our lives, I suppose,’ I said, but she was right. There wasn’t much else they could take from us. And there was much I could take from her. ‘You really think I should go to the monument?’
‘At least see if she really shows up,’ the kit said. ‘Maybe she won’t now she knows you know.’
‘And what would I do there? Tie her up and hold her for ransom?’ That was an idea, come to think of it.
‘No,’ the kit said. ‘I think you should tell her what’s happened to us.’
‘I’m not going to do that!’ I snapped. ‘She wouldn’t care, anyway. Stuck up, spoiled princess.’
‘But she’s studying magic,’ the kit said. ‘Surely she can’t be entirely unsympathetic.’
‘Yes she can,’ I said. ‘You think they don’t know what they’ve done to faeries and magicians around here? She’s probably just trying to annoy her mother. She looked like the type that likes to annoy.’
The kit squirmed and glared at me. ‘So are you!’ she said pointedly. ‘You have two choices. Either sit here in this hole and simmer in anger, or go talk to the princess and maybe do something about it.’
‘What do you think she could do?’ I asked. ‘She’s not going to change public opinion on magic, she won’t set about lifting the ban on spindles, and she certainly can’t give us back our name.’
‘Before she does any or all of those things she’d have to be convinced,’ the kit said. ‘And if anyone could do it, I know you could.’
I frowned. ‘I couldn’t convince her of anything.’
‘You? The biggest rake in Lyndaron, couldn’t convince a lonely princess?’
My brow furrowed. ‘What makes you say she’s lonely?’
‘Everyone knows she’s lonely. She’s been of age for more than three years. Most say she’s too tall, but some say she’s too clever. Whatever the reason, she hasn’t had a single suitor, not even those love games with poetry and dances they play up at the palace. Who better to sweep her off her feet than my handsome brother?’
I looked away, unconvinced. She wasn’t wrong about my being a rake. It wasn’t anything I tried. Faeries are naturally beautiful, and that included myself and the kit. And since, being Nameless, we didn’t have the natural glow of other faeries, people didn’t always recognize where the allure was coming from. It never got me very far. A few kisses. Some hurried, illicit fumbling in dark corners. But the moment someone spotted my ears or noticed my proportions, I’d be shunned instantly. I was once snatched nearly bald by a girl who had sworn she loved me, until she realized I was a Nameless faerie. Not to mention that terrible affair in the meadow, seven years ago … I turned my head from the memory.
‘I’ve seen you do it before,’ the kit continued. ‘You have something she wants. You are who you are. Something can come of that.’
‘She can’t change our lot,’ I said. ‘All I could take from her is my revenge.’
The kit frowned and held her hands to the fire. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But at least it isn’t sitting in this hole.’ She looked back at me. ‘I’d go to her.’
She was right. I was sick of skulking and hiding and living underground in every possible way. At least plotting my revenge against Queen Amaranth through Princess Willow was something more constructive.
Chapter 4
Will
When Will got back to the palace she was told that her mother wanted to speak to her, in the formal audience chamber. She swallowed. Will found Amaranth rather intimidating. She tended to bring out the worst in her. She and Lavender both did. Will had barely spoken to either of them since she had fallen in love with Prince Ferdinand. The wretched thought of him made her heart beat a little faster, and she was suddenly terrified lest he be in the audience chamber as well. ‘Might I go and change my clothes first?’ she asked the guards.
‘Our orders we
re to take you directly to the queen,’ said Jared. ‘As soon as possible.’
Will sighed. She wouldn’t be able to stash the book, either. She tucked it under her arm backwards, hoping it would look like any book of stories. She gathered her dignity, lifted her head to its full height, and told the footman to announce her.
‘Her Highness the Princess Willow Lyndal,’ said the footman, and stepped out of the way, holding the door.
Will strode in, holding her eyes directly on the queen. There was a small collection of people there already. Will didn’t know why they had to have this encounter in the public audience chambers.
She looked about a bit and she glimpsed a golden crown which was not her mother’s. Will’s memory came flooding back. By all seven hells, this was the formal reception of King Lesli of Hiedelen! Will had forgotten it. He and some of his court had come to Lyndaria as honoured guests for the Midwinter Ball. It was also to be King Lesli’s formal introduction to Ferdinand. The alliance between Hiedelen and Lyndaria was so strong that his approval, though not exactly required, was to be expected.
Many of the older citizens still thought of King Lesli as the true king. Until Amaranth’s awakening he had been king, for nearly a quarter of a century. It had been conjectured that Lyndaria should never have severed rule with Hiedelen at all, despite Amaranth’s resurrection. King Lesli was experienced, was of the line which had sacrificed their sons for the good of the people, and had ruled well enough.
Ruled well enough, indeed, Will thought. Oh, aye, he had only tapped the people of Lyndaria for soldiers for his wars five or six times. He only took a modest tribute, over and above the regular taxes. He’d only raped the land to line his own coffers. But, particularly to the older generation, Lesli seemed considerably more experienced and regal than the true Lyndal line, Amaranth only sixteen and Ragi barely into his twenties. It had only been Amaranth’s prompt marriage to Ragi, and a series of tributary treaties which had prevented civil war.
Now King Lesli was in his sixties, hoary but hale. Lyndaria still sent Hiedelen a yearly tribute, but Amaranth and Ragi had been slowly lessening the amount for the last ten years. Will still remembered the unrest when they’d first reduced the tribute. She’d only been eight at the time, but she still remembered the mustering for war. A marriage between Lavender and Lesli’s younger son Dani had been arranged, which prevented this war.
Now, unfortunately, the situation was shaky. Dani had been killed by the very dragon which had abducted Lavender, on the very eve of the announcement of their official betrothal, no less. Since all of Lesli’s other sons and grandsons were already married, save for young Narvi, who had already been promised to Willow, the announcement of the betrothal to Prince Ferdinand had not been taken as an immediate declaration of war. All the same, there was a certain amount of tension between the kingdoms, and the state visit over Midwinter was intended to smooth this rift.
And I’ve been so selfishly, hopelessly in love that I managed to forget all about it, Will thought.
She could feel her cheeks go hot as she walked across the carpet to the dais at the end of the audience chamber. She was dressed in her father’s clothes. Her cloak was still snowy from the outside. She was holding a book of magic. And she was late. Princess Willow Lyndal, the last chance at a tacit alliance between Hiedelen and Lyndaria, was disrespectfully late.
And Prince Ferdinand was there, of course. He flashed Will a sympathetic smile as she crossed the floor. Her heart twisted in her chest, and she felt about nine years old.
‘Well, dear daughter,’ Amaranth said as Will came into conversation range. ‘We had expected you here to meet with King Lesli.’
Curtsying without a dress looked a little silly, but Will took a fold of her cloak and bent into a respectful one all the same. ‘Your Majesty,’ she said to Lesli. ‘My deepest apologies for my tardiness, and my appearance. I had mistaken the day of your arrival. I beg your forgiveness.’
King Lesli regarded her, his stern face entirely unchanged. ‘Hard to imagine that you had forgotten the day a once beloved ruler of Lyndaria would return.’
Every word in a state audience was recorded meticulously. The court recorder duly jotted down his statement. For Lesli to bring up his previous status as Lyndaria’s tacit king in such a setting was audacious. ‘I could never forget such a day, Your Majesty,’ she said, her teeth hurting at the blatant lie. She could use sarcasm without pain, and she was perfectly capable of keeping her mouth shut and omitting pertinent facts, but outright lies were difficult for her. Honesty was another virtue Will wished would disappear. ‘Rather I am such a fool I had mistaken the very day it was. I believed it was the Sunsday.’
‘It is Moonsday, dear daughter,’ Amaranth said. Will could read her eyes. I’m not asking about your apparel in court, but you had best have a damned good explanation. ‘Before your arrival we were hearing a brief report on the state of the kingdom, for King Lesli’s benefit. Perhaps you would join us?’
Will curtseyed again. ‘Indeed, Mother.’
Amaranth gestured to her right, and Will cringed. The chair which was usually taken by herself was occupied by Ferdinand. He was sitting regally, affectionately holding Lavender’s hand. As Lavender was the heiress, her consort merited a chair, of course. Will was merely the second child. But unfortunately, court protocol dictated that her place was directly behind them. Will took a deep breath and took her place, standing directly behind their chairs, trying not to look at the couple, at how happy they were together, at how, oh, by all the gods, his hand was running sensuously up and down her back. Lavender was naturally pale. At court she wore face paint, so the deep blush Will could see colouring her ears was probably invisible to the audience, but his actions were distracting her. They distracted the hell out of Will.
She didn’t catch a word the herald was saying. She didn’t follow the tension-filled ‘friendly’ discourse between King Ragi and his ‘Uncle Les’. She did not hear how Queen Amaranth tried to defuse Lesli’s complaint about yet another reduction in tribute. Instead she watched Ferdinand’s fingers as they played with Lavender’s laces, as he reached up and fingered tresses of her autumn-coloured hair, as he lightly traced her neck above the collar line, causing Lavender to repress a shiver of excitement.
Lavender was repressing those shivers. Will was less fortunate. Nobility and Grace were far beyond her, and she wasn’t wearing face paint, and her men’s clothes were still wet from walking through the snow. At one point a footman did manage to take her sodden cloak, but by that time the wet had already soaked through, leaving her shoulders stained dark, and her skin breaking out in goose pimples. Her cheeks continued to flush. She hoped it was only the cold. Every time Ferdinand moved his hand she was hit by another case of the shivers. Her feet were turning numb with the damp cold. The audience chamber was not adequately heated. The throngs that huddled together, witnessing the discourse, probably didn’t notice, but up on the dais the draught whistled cruelly.
Will was shuddering, but felt hot and cold by turns, as if she were feverish. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining she was the one sitting in that chair, that she was the one feeling Ferdinand’s fingers trace patterns on her back, caressing the skin on the back of her neck, his hand travelling down and down her spine until … oh, by all the gods!
She realized she’d made a sound when King Ragi turned to face her. To his credit, Ferdinand did not give himself away by snatching his hand back. Rather he very quietly shifted in his seat, casually moving his hand as he did so. ‘You disagree?’ Ragi asked.
Oh, seven hells, what were they talking about? ‘I think it would be best to know every particular before any decisions are reached,’ Will said, pretty sure that would cover anything.
‘You see?’ King Ragi said. ‘Our daughter agrees with us.’
God of Death, what had she just agreed to?
‘Of course she does,’ King Lesli said. ‘But my great-niece is notoriously absentminded on many subjects.�
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The laugh this brought from the audience at Will’s expense was a sprinkling of sugar atop the day’s humiliation.
‘As I was saying,’ King Lesli continued, ‘if you cared to look at my dealings in timber you will see that the cost involved in replanting seriously depletes the profit of the project. If you did not waste your funds on such frivolous ventures, you might not have such a poor coffer, and I would not be forced to so often forgive a portion of your tribute.’
Queen Amaranth’s voice was very serious when she said, ‘The depletion of our tribute is less the monies spent in projects such as replanting than it is the necessity of maintaining a kingdom over more than one generation.’
King Lesli shook his head. ‘Without the immediate revenue to maintain the kingdom, the chances of it lasting until the next generation is negligible. Replanting forestry is a waste of time and resources. If you would be willing to follow my example in this, you would increase your timber revenue by likely treble, and we wouldn’t have to worry about not having such ready monies.’
‘Of course!’ Will said, unable to keep her tongue still. ‘You are so brilliant at this, Your Majesty. Why waste the resources in revitalizing the forests? It would be much better to simply clear the land and let all the game and foresters die, or move elsewhere. If this should result in a lack of charcoal for your blacksmiths and a winter of bitter cold for your people, what should it matter? By all accounts, soon enough, you at least will have fluttered off the mortal coil, and it certainly shan’t be a trouble for you. You can always bring in metalworks and fuel for your people with all the revenue the forests will have brought you. In the meantime, you can dress yourself and your household in velvet and silk, throw lavish parties and turn forests into frivolities. Of course, by the time the revenue is needed, you will already have spent it on your parties and silk, so perhaps it would be best simply to declare war on a neighbouring kingdom and take their revenue. They would still have forests of their own, of course, because they will have bothered to replant. So you’ll have the revenue needed to maintain your palace, and your people, however many are left after the cold has killed off the weak and the wars have killed off the men. You can then level the forests of the country you have invaded, producing more needed revenue, more lavish parties, more shivering, starving people and more devastated landscapes. You have such brilliant economic solutions, King Lesli!’
