by Lea Doué
Mother’s face remained serene. Coming from a family with male heirs, Holic would be excused all manner of informalities.
“Forgive me.” Holic pulled a paper from his pocket and smoothed out the creases. “I recognized you from your picture.” He turned the paper around and held it out to Hazel. She studied it, and then broke into the kind of smile she usually reserved for private moments. Dazzled, Holic smiled in return, shy, eager. Boyish, behind the stubbly beard.
“What is it?” Mother leaned around Lily.
Holic gave Mother the paper. It was a rough watercolor of Hazel, unmistakable with the yellow hair and the bold script proclaiming the subject’s name. The young artist had signed the masterpiece in the corner as Hazel had taught her.
“She is improving, don’t you think?” Hazel said.
“She has potential,” Mother agreed.
“Where did you get this?” Hazel took the paper from Mother.
Still under the spell of Hazel’s undiluted smile, Holic fumbled for words. “I—the orphan’s home. The children were watching from the street. With flags. I had to stop.”
Hazel was one of the least artistic among them, but she encouraged the children’s creativity, supplying them with paper, inks, and what little knowledge she had. Two years ago, she’d petitioned Father to hire a proper instructor for those who wished to learn more than she could pass on. Without knowing it, Prince Holic had made more progress winning Hazel’s affections than anyone before him.
“You will take good care of it, of course,” Hazel said, handing the picture back.
“Of course.” After carefully folding the paper, Holic put it back in his pocket. He paused and cleared his throat. “Delighted to meet you.” His smile grew, as if he recognized the awkwardness of the situation, having preempted the introduction.
Hazel offered her hand, and Holic held it a few seconds longer than needed. Lily exchanged a look with Gwen. They both knew the poor prince had no chance. He was a third son, and Hazel was determined to have an heir.
Melantha was introduced before things grew too uncomfortable. She wore green again, and Holic didn’t seem to notice that her wild hair was still wet and her circlet was slipping. He attended to her and Mara politely, with frequent glances at Hazel, who didn’t quite succeed in keeping her face properly forward and disinterested.
When he came to Neylan, his smile faltered. “You’ve a dragon on your ear.” He leaned forward, peering at the creature.
He wouldn’t have seen a butterwing as far north as Osha. This one, its brown belly round with bugs, was too fat to be perched on an ear and had loosed several curls trying to steady itself. Yellow wings flapped in irritation, and it stretched its lips in a silent hiss. Neylan stroked the dragon’s back, and it settled, watching Holic warily. Few dignitaries showed much interest in her hitchhikers.
“I don’t want to unsettle your guest,” he said. He clasped her offered hand barely long enough to be called proper. Neylan smiled. Holic had won over another princess.
Pol introduced the remaining princesses. Junia blushed, Coral giggled, and Azure endured the hand-kiss bravely. Ivy lifted her gaze from the floor long enough to satisfy Mother, and the twins entertained with their ability to talk in unison.
Pol took charge then and escorted the prince and his entourage out of the hall.
Lily sighed, and her shoulders relaxed. That hadn’t gone bad, and she wouldn’t see Holic again until supper. Mother couldn’t scold too much.
“I will see you in the king’s study in half an hour.” Mother strode from the room, glittering silver-and-gold in the afternoon sunlight.
Then again, maybe she could.
Chapter Three
Lily braced herself to endure a reprimand from Mother regarding their tardiness and untidy state, although they could hardly be blamed. They couldn’t have known that Prince Holic would arrive a whole day early. She couldn’t guess what else Mother wanted to discuss, unless it was the disaster that had called Father away. Dragon Festival was a time to put aside regular duties, a whole week to enjoy mingling with the citizens of Eltekon and to spend time with her sisters, so it wouldn’t be anything official. She would have liked to ask Father what he meant by giving Runson his blessing, but that would have to wait.
She smoothed the almond dress with its simple gold belt—much preferable to a ballgown—and tension drained from her. Her hair was still up, barely, and she wore her own comfortable slippers again. She could do this.
Mother sat at the window seat, her face turned towards the sky. The soldier-king had designed his study to have a view of The Guardian River that flowed from the north, embracing his people before rushing down to the sea. The queen’s study next door had the same view.
Lily waited for Mother to speak first. She didn’t wait long.
“The razors are under control in Vinita, with surprisingly few casualties.” Mother’s gaze lowered to the sparkling river. When duty took Father elsewhere, she handled her kingdom’s affairs expertly. This time of year, though, her mother felt his absence acutely. “Unfortunately, the young lord fell defending the city, and he had no heir. Your Father will be home once he has straightened that out.”
Lily’s shoulders relaxed. With the dragons under control, Father was in little danger. Now would come her scolding.
Mother swung her knees around. “As for your appearance at Prince Holic’s introduction, I expected better.” She raised her eyebrows, and a smile tugged at her mouth. A small one.
That wasn’t too bad.
“If things go as I think they might, then a few rumpled gowns can be easily overlooked.” Her smile grew.
“What things?”
“There is no need for you to pretend. I know you were in the maze, and I know Lord Runson joined you. My maid informed me as soon as he exited.”
“Okay?” Lily folded her hands over her stomach, unsure what Mother thought she wasn’t telling her.
“Posture, Lily.” The smile faltered, but Mother still seemed to expect some sort of good news.
Good news. Good grief.
Lily’s hands dropped to her sides. Lord Runson had been trying to propose, and somehow Mother knew. And worse, the idea pleased her.
“Mother, there’s nothing to tell. I want nothing to do with Runson.”
“Lord Runson,” Mother said automatically. Her brows drew down. “I don’t understand. You two are so close.”
“Were close.”
Mother stood and took a few steps forward. “So, he didn’t propose?”
“He tried, I think, but we were interrupted.” By an imaginary reptile.
“That’s too bad.”
“You don’t actually want me to accept him, do you?” Mother didn’t know everything about Runson, despite being childhood friends with his aunt.
Mother pursed her lips, her ladylike substitute for a shrug. “If you don’t want Lord Runson, then there are others just as eligible.”
“Like Prince Holic.” Who was already half in love with Hazel.
“Or Prince Orin.”
“The Goose Prince?” The girls enjoyed hearing Melantha’s stories of the foreign prince who’d taken over tending the royal geese, but they had yet to meet him. Except for Azure.
“I admit he’s a bit eccentric.”
“Mother! He’s four years younger than me.”
“Than I. And what does that matter? Prince Orin is from a good family, and he has seven brothers.” She said brothers like it was a badge of honor. “You would be engaged for a few years, of course, but you are still young enough for that. The country needs a name, someone to rally behind. A kingdom needs a king, Lily.”
“Father doesn’t agree. He said I can make my choice when I want. This isn’t Osha.”
Mother sighed. “Your father doesn’t understand these things. His mother ruled alone for a few years before stepping down for him, but her husband had already established a strong government, and your father handled most of the work, a
nyway.”
Tell that to Grandmother. “I will listen to my king in this, Mother.”
She stood. “Fine. Prince Orin is too young. I suppose Prince Gower is too fat and Sir Brodney is too sallow. What about Prince Holic? He has two brothers. Tell me you will at least give him a chance. Don’t close your mind to all of them.”
“I’ll give him the same consideration I give all my suitors, if that’s what he is.” She didn’t want to discuss this right now. Or ever.
“Yes. Well, see that you do. But do not lead them on, including Lord Runson. It’s unfair.”
Lily shook her head so that a few pins were in danger of falling out. “I’m not leading anyone on, least of all Runson.”
Mother’s impeccable posture became even straighter, and her eyes narrowed. “You are too old to be playing games. What else was Lord Runson to think when you entered the maze?”
“That I wanted time alone with my sisters?” She certainly didn’t go in there to play coy with Runson. She couldn’t believe Mother thought she would.
“You didn’t invite him to join you?”
“Of course not! The twins wanted to play Cat and Mouse for their birthday. It’s all they asked for, and we weren’t expecting to be interrupted. We’ll do as much for Ivy in four days, which is more than I can say of you.” She clenched her fists.
“Lily.” It was a warning.
“My sisters are more important than choosing some pedigreed male to help me do something I’ve been trained for all my life.” No matter that she felt inadequate for the job. She raised her chin. “You would deny the twins an afternoon of my time, just like you deny Ivy a whole day of yours every year since she’s been born. She lost a brother the same day you lost a son.”
Mother gasped.
Lily swallowed. Ever since Ivy had been old enough to feel the pain of her forgotten day, Lily had wanted to say those words to Mother. Now her stomach churned, and she wanted to throw up.
Mother turned her face to the city and the horizon beyond, where her husband toiled to bring order to a land without an heir. “You’re out of line,” she whispered, and her posture crumbled as she wrapped her arms about herself.
“Father was out of line.” Lily choked on the words. Why couldn’t she stop talking? “He should have told Runson ‘no’ outright.”
“There is no harm in asking you to turn away your own suitors.” Mother’s voice stayed steady, just above a whisper. “Especially suitors from powerful families that will not be satisfied with anything less than a direct answer. If you have someone else in mind, you should speak up. You have your choice of men.”
“No, I don’t.”
Mother turned, her tear-stained face a reprimand. “What do you mean?”
“It seems Father’s already chosen for me.”
“What?”
“Father gave Runson his blessing.”
Mother remained silent.
“Didn’t you know?”
Apparently not. Mother sank onto the window seat, blotting her eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief. “That explains why he followed you into the maze. All the more reason for you to stop playing games and discuss this with him.”
“Why should I? There’s nothing I can do if the king—my own father—has made up his mind that I can’t do this on my own.” She heard the bitterness in her voice. She’d always known she wouldn’t be allowed to have who she wanted. Princesses married royalty, or lords, or extremely wealthy merchants. That’s how it had been for hundreds of years, so she’d made up her mind to be content on her own. Gwen would provide heirs enough, one day. Lily thought she had Father’s support, but something must have gone wrong to make him change his mind.
This whole conversation had gone wrong. Mother was supposed to scold, Lily would apologize, they would discuss Father, the dragons, and what they were wearing to The Masked Ball in four days. Lily wasn’t the one who argued with Mother.
“Lily, you’re not being fair. We don’t know—”
A knock startled them both. Mother stood as Hazel swept into the room with Azure in tow. They’d changed from their ballgowns.
“Mother, I can’t find Bay.” Hazel stepped up next to Lily.
Azure helped herself to a peppermint on Father’s desk and wandered over to the window.
“Bay?”
“She’s missing.” Hazel’s fingers worried the beaded fringe on her belt. “No one has seen her since this morning.”
“Seen who?”
“Bay!”
“Her new maid.” Azure huffed on the window and drew pictures in the fog with a gloved finger.
“She’s from the Calamus Lake region,” Lily added, glad to have the conversation changed, but concerned about the girl, nonetheless.
Bay was only fourteen, the same age as Azure. Hazel usually hired from the orphanage, but this girl came straight from the streets of Eltekon, having lost her mother days after they’d moved to the city. She’d never given them all the details.
Mother pursed her lips. “It’s a big palace, Hazel, and an even bigger city. She hasn’t been here long enough to know her way around. Perhaps she’s wandered off and gotten lost.”
“She doesn’t wander. She’s never wandered. Something has happened, and I want some guards to look into it.” A glass bead dropped onto the rug.
“Why don’t you give it some more time? I’m sure she’ll show up. It is Dragon Festival, after all.”
Hazel straightened, her chin lifting fractionally. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, if it were not important.”
“Perhaps you could let her ask for volunteers.” Lily didn’t want Mother’s attention back on herself, but she didn’t want more arguments, either.
Mother looked from Lily to Hazel, her eyes narrowed in thought. She sighed. “Forgive me Hazel. Of course, you are not bothering me.” She wrote a short note at the desk, sealed it, and then handed it to Hazel. “Have this sent to the guardhouse, there’s no need to ask for volunteers.”
Hazel dropped the belt fringe and clasped the note to her chest. “Thank you. I’ll take it myself.”
“You may as well go, too, Lily. We have nothing left to discuss at present.” She turned back to the window, patting Azure’s shoulder in dismissal. Azure snatched a handful of peppermints on the way out, handing one to each of her sisters. The door snicked shut behind them.
Lily paused, her shoulders sagging. She should go back in, apologize. But she’d only stated the truth, and it wouldn’t change Mother’s mind about her spending time with Runson.
Why had Father given the man his blessing? Didn’t he know anything? As she followed Hazel and Azure to the guardhouse, she wondered if Father did know anything. Mother had thought she and Runson were still close. They had been once, before Lily discovered his devotion had been a scam. She never talked about him to anyone except the girls, mostly Gwen. And apparently, Runson had kept his mouth shut for once.
Hazel ran her errand, and they joined some of the girls near the dining hall. Dragon Festival suppers were informal drop-in buffets, but the younger girls were still not allowed in.
Coral batted her eyelashes at Hazel. “Going in to see the prince?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” In her preoccupation with Bay, Hazel didn’t bother to pretend she didn’t see the girls. She stepped past them and took Lily’s arm.
Melantha and Junia hung back to let the older girls enter first.
Coral spoke in a loud whisper to Azure. “I saw Hazel blush when he held her hand.”
Hazel spun, and Lily tripped on her own ankle trying to keep up.
“I did not blush. And he was not holding my hand. It was a proper introduction, the same as he gave you.”
“Admit it. You like him.”
“Nonsense. We’ve only just met.” She turned back around, leading Lily to the door. “Besides, he’s horribly freckled, and . . . well, red-headed.”
“Hey!” Melantha, freckled from head to toe, poked Hazel
from behind.
Hazel lifted her chin and ignored Melantha’s protests.
Red-headed Coral laughed. “We’ll meet you after supper for Cat and Mouse!”
*
Lily enjoyed the informal atmosphere in the dining hall and sat with her sisters and Riva, their former nursemaid-slash-bodyguard, who had rejoined the royal guard when the girls outgrew her. Gwen brought Prince Holic and a couple of lords to their table, and Lily was mostly able to ignore Mother, who refused to make eye contact with her, and Runson, who refused not to.
She slipped out as soon as good manners allowed. The other five girls followed, staggering their exits so as not to draw attention.
True to her word, Coral waited around the corner with the younger girls.
“Let’s go.” Lily linked arms with Ivy and took the first hallway on the right. Ruby and Wren skipped ahead, eager to finish their game. They still had over an hour of daylight.
Before they reached the palace gardens, Gwen pushed Lily from behind. “Hurry! Go hide in the library.”
“What?”
“Lord Runny saw us leave. Go!” Gwen pushed her once more, linked arms with Ivy and Mara, and stopped. The other girls hung back, as well.
Lily sighed heavily before turning down the hall leading to the library. The over-confident lord was determined to ruin the twins’ birthday.
“The maze, twenty minutes,” Neylan whispered behind her.
*
The soldier-king’s architect had stretched the library and its windows up through all three floors of the palace. Narrow spirals of wrought iron linked the levels in each of the two rooms. Lily loved these rooms—the smell of old books and scrolls and sun-warmed leather. They were the reason Eben, an orphan destined for the dragon guard, had been allowed entry into the palace. Melantha, after discovering Eben’s thirst for knowledge, had traded sword-fighting lessons for access to information no public library would ever contain. With Father’s permission, of course. Lily remembered the exact spot she’d first seen him over ten years ago, poring over a history of Eltekon, oblivious to the curious princesses piling into the room to observe the young swordsman-in-training.
Eben lounged with a book on one of a handful of overstuffed chairs near the window overlooking the gardens. Shelves of books stood within arm’s reach.
