Never mind that I distinctly heard my stepmother ask for the mint rinse, and not the chamomile. Claris made them both, along with our soap and other herbal concoctions as required, and she shook her head as I entered the kitchen and asked for the chamomile.
“Can’t make up her mind, that’s what,” she said darkly, as she went to the cupboard where such things were stored and handed me a bottle with a pale amber liquid inside. “Not that the whole household hasn’t been in a dither all day, so I suppose this is just the latest distraction…if not the last.” She stared at me with narrowed eyes. “You all right, then? You look a bit peaked.”
Oh, no, that wouldn’t do. So much for my aunt’s admonition to preserve my strength — I’d been run ragged from the time I rose from my pallet that morning, before the sun was even up. Suddenly the hem on Jenaris’ gown appeared uneven, and there was no time to call Mistress Rhandil to repair it, and so I had to unpick all the careful stitching and redo the hem, all the while thinking that perhaps the gown looked a touch too short in the front because Jenaris had somehow managed to expand her waistline during the past few weeks, rather than losing the weight her mother had desired. The reducing diet had rather backfired, I thought, as it had caused my stepsister to sneak down to the pantry in the middle of the night to replace some — if not all — of the food her mother had denied her during the day.
At any rate, that was only the first of it. Then their slippers must be blacked, and the feathers in Shelynne’s fan reattached, and their chemises bleached and starched and ironed, even though only the merest hint of them would be peeking out above the bodices and through the sleeves of the gowns they would wear that evening. And doing all this while attending to my usual duties in the kitchen, and the normal dusting of the public rooms, and the polishing of the floors in those rooms, quite exhausted me.
But there was little I could do about that. If I flagged while going about my chores, or showed the slightest reluctance to accept with alacrity any new task my stepmother might dream up, then I would most likely be punished by being deprived of my midday meal. That would only make matters worse, and so I struggled along as best I could, telling myself that the weariness would disappear quickly enough once I had stolen away from the house and gone to the palace.
Once I had seen him again…
I had to admit that the likelihood of such a thing felt rather slim. With hundreds of girls in attendance, how could he possibly attend to even a tenth that number? No, I should be glad that he had noticed me at all the day before. Such a thing would probably not happen again.
A more pressing concern was how I might avoid my stepsisters. True, in a crowd that size, it should be not terribly difficult to keep from crossing their paths, unless I were unlucky enough to be seated at the same table as they. But luck had never been one to smile on me, and so I could not count on such a thing to keep me safe.
Would they even recognize me? True, my hair was distinctive — a detriment rather than an advantage in this particular situation. On the other hand, here in the house it was always covered in a kerchief and kept braided and out of the way. The color might not even register with them any longer. And once I was wearing a fine gown and jewelry and had my hair down and curled…or, to be more accurate, once it had the semblance of being curled…surely they would see nothing familiar in my appearance, red hair or no.
Thus reassuring myself, I somehow managed to survive the rest of the day. At least it was not my responsibility to dress my stepsisters or manage the arrangement of their hair. No, I was far too lowly to be entrusted with something so important, and it was Mari and my stepmother who did those things, fussing and primping and even — when they thought I was out of the room — quietly touching some rouge to the two girls’ lips and cheeks.
As befitted an evening occasion, their gowns were far more elaborate than the ones they had worn the day before. Truly, when I looked on the embroidered claret silk of Shelynne’s dress, and the golden trim on Jenaris’ sapphire-blue gown, I wondered again whence had come all the money for such splendor. For this was only the second event of the five, and although tomorrow’s ensembles were hunting frocks, which by design were far simpler, there were still also the musicale the following night, and the grand ball to end the five days of festivities. I had seen their gowns for those events as well, seen the embroidered trim and the pearls and precious metals stitched into those decorations, and I wondered how on earth my aunt could possibly come up with anything grander, even with magic at her disposal.
I supposed I should save that worry for another day. Now it was enough to see my stepmother send the two girls off in a carriage, and be glad that she once again retired to her bedroom, wishing to dine only on a glass of wine and some cold meat and cheese — “for of course my nerves are too unsettled to manage anything more than that.”
It was almost as if my stepmother colluded in giving me an opportunity to slip away and meet up with my aunt, for the wine must be fetched from the cellar, and the cellar could only be reached by a door that opened on the outside of the house. So I told Claris I would retrieve it while she put together my stepmother’s plate.
“Take a candle,” she admonished me, “for it’s getting on past dark, and I don’t need you tripping and falling in that cellar.”
I assured the cook I would take care as I lifted a candle in its brass holder from the sideboard and then hurried outside. But I did not go to the cellar door, and instead hurried across to the stable. Perhaps I had been right when I told myself that I would find renewed energy once the time to go to the dinner had come, for I slipped across the courtyard as fleet and fast as if I had just arisen from my bed instead of spending the past twelve hours fetching and carrying at my stepmother’s whim.
Holding the candle before me, I opened the stable door. Thank goodness Janks had lingered in the house, flirting with Mari while my stepmother was safely ensconced in her rooms, for there was little chance of him coming outside when he had the opportunity of stealing a kiss or two.
“Ah, we have a little more light this time. That is good,” my aunt said as she came out from her hiding place in one of the stalls. Her smile faded a bit as she seemed to take in my appearance. “Or perhaps it is not so good, for it seems that dreadful woman must have been running you ragged today!”
“Is it that bad?” I asked, my free hand rising to my face to touch my cheek, as if I expected to find lines and wrinkles to have materialized there sometime over the course of the afternoon.
“Oh, no, not at all,” my aunt replied at once. “Just a bit pale, my dear, but once you are wearing a lovely gown and have your hair done…and I’ve helped you out just the littlest bit…then I’m sure no one will notice.”
I wondered if that “help” would include magically applied rouge and decided it really did not matter one way or another. After all, once one has agreed to the use of any kind of magic, what difference would one small additional subterfuge make?
“Something a little different this evening, I think,” my aunt went on, eyeing me critically. She closed her eyes as if in concentration, then murmured a few words. “Ah, yes, most striking.”
The alteration in my appearance wasn’t quite as startling this time, for now I knew what her magic could do. Even so, I wasn’t expecting the skirts of deep rich green damask, the intricate embroidery in paler green and gold and even soft copper, the flash of green gems on my fingers. I held up my hand, staring at a heavy ring of gold on the middle finger of my right hand. Not that I was an expert by any means, but the gem I inspected now did not seem to be an emerald — it was too dark, too close to a deep forest color.
“What is it?” I asked.
“They are called tourmalines, and they are mined to the south and west, down in the Linsmere Province, I believe. They suit you, and the gown. Do you like the ring? And there is a necklace and earrings to match, although of course you cannot see them.”
I had never seen anything so lovely as that r
ich green gemstone on my finger, and I had to remind myself that the stone in the ring, and indeed the ring itself, was not real, but only an illusion concocted to attract the Emperor’s attention. “The ring is lovely, and so is the gown. I would not have thought of this color, but now I see it, I do think it is perfect.”
“As are you, child, so go and show His Majesty your perfection. At least tell me that your stepmother has collapsed again this evening.”
“She has, and you must hurry, for she is expecting some wine from the cellar. The third shelf, at the back.”
At once my aunt whispered the words of the spell, and suddenly it was myself looking back at me in consternation, and taking the candlestick from my hand. “Then I will go at once, and so should you. The coach is waiting, the same as last night.”
I nodded, whispered “thank you,” and fled, hurrying to the back gate, glad of my dark gown. One would have to be looking for the glint of its golden trim to see me slipping out to the street.
As before, the coachman was waiting to hand me up into the carriage, and I climbed in and took my seat. We clattered away at once, and I folded my hands in my lap, willing myself to look at the dark streets flashing by with some semblance of calm. I had done this before and survived. I could do it again…provided neither of my stepsisters saw me and realized who the girl in the green gown actually was.
This time I wasn’t quite as late to the festivities as I had been the day before, and so I found myself caught in the middle of a long line of carriages waiting for their chance to drop off their passengers. At long last it was my turn, and I made myself lift my chin and smile grandly as a footman resplendent in the silver and black of the Imperial household offered a hand to assist me down from the coach.
“That way,” he said, and pointed — quite unnecessarily, for it was easy enough to follow the stream of young women moving inside the palace, intent on some destination I could not yet see.
But I nodded, and lifted my skirts as I moved up the steps and fell in with the rest of them. As I walked, it was difficult for me to prevent my mouth from dropping open in wonder, to somehow keep myself from staring at my surroundings in awe. For while I had tried to tell myself that of course the palace would be very grand, and so I would have to pretend as if it weren’t anything hugely out of my experience, I found that resolution wavering as I gazed about me. The ceiling overhead was painted with glorious frescoes, the pillars climbing to meet them carved with twining vines and roses. Brilliant tapestries covered the walls, and in between them were sconces of gilded brass alight with blazing beeswax tapers.
Our destination was a vast chamber with a floor of polished dark oak. Enormous fireplaces of carved marble stood at either end of the room, but as the night was mild, they had not been lit. Instead, the hearths brimmed with roses, not just draped over the elaborate mantels, but within the fireplaces as well. More swags of autumn-hued roses and ivy seemed to decorate every beam and sconce and chandelier, so that the room was heavy with the scent of flowers.
“Name?” said an imposing individual standing guard at the door. He, too, wore the livery of the Imperial household, but he was older and therefore, I guessed, of a somewhat more elevated rank than footman.
“Ash-Ashara Millende,” I stammered.
“Millende. Very good. That is your table,” he said, pointing toward one of ten or so long tables draped with brilliant white linen and with more roses in centerpieces that marched a straight line down the center, following the line of a runner in golden damask.
My table? I supposed that made sense; they would have to have some order to where we were to be seated, or all would be even more chaos than it already was. And using our last names was probably the simplest way to manage that task. My heart sank then, for of course my stepsisters shared my last name, and so they, too, would be seated at that table.
I made my way over to the designated spot, keeping my head down, so that I might avoid making eye contact if they were already there. Because of this, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt someone’s hand grab hold of mine and I heard a half-familiar voice say, “Ashara! How splendid that we should be placed at the same table! But I suppose it makes some sense, as you are ‘Millende’ and I am ‘Nelandre.’”
Blinking in relief, I glanced up and saw Gabrinne smiling at me. She looked lovely, in a rich wine color that complemented her dark eyes and hair. But even as I squeezed her hand and smiled back, I let my gaze quickly shift to those already seated at the table. Yes, there were Jenaris and Shelynne, although they sat at the farthest end and were apparently squabbling over who should have the choice seat at the edge of the table.
I prayed they would stay thus occupied, and managed to say to Gabrinne, in more or less normal tones, “Yes, that is wonderful. I had worried that I would not see a familiar face here tonight in such a crush.”
“Yes, one must wonder how on earth the Emperor will be able to keep us all straight. It does seem like such a larger crowd when we’re all in one place rather than spread out in separate pavilions. But I suppose that is his affair.”
“So we will not get to see him,” I replied, some regret in my tone. For now that I followed her gaze to scan the crowd, I could see where the high table had been set up at one end of the room near a fireplace. And there he was, standing behind a chair whose back rose higher than any of the others. He appeared to be speaking with an exceptionally lovely young woman with sleek dark hair and a sweet expression.
Perhaps a frown passed over my features, for I heard Gabrinne give a little laugh and say, “Oh, no need to be jealous of that one, Ashara. That is the Crown Princess Lyarris, and although I’ve heard she and His Majesty are very close, she is certainly no rival.”
“I am not jealous,” I said immediately.
“Oh, well, that is good,” Gabrinne replied, amusement clear in her tone.
Wishing to distract her, I asked, “But how does this all work? For we are seated far from the high table, and so are most of the other girls here. How on earth can His Majesty meet all of us?”
“Simple enough. At the end of each course, we are to move to the next table, and therefore will circulate around the room. Eventually we will end up at the Emperor’s table, although only a few of us will be seated close enough to actually converse with him.”
As I did not want her to know how ardently I desired to be one of those lucky few, I said lightly, “Well, then, we must try to get you close. For I exchanged words with him yesterday, so it is only fair that you should have the chance.”
She shook her head then so that her raven curls bounced about her shoulders. “Good gods, Ashara, do you not recall that I have no wish to marry the Emperor?”
Belatedly I did remember she had said words to that effect, and also that she had someone better in mind. Who that could be, when Torric Deveras appeared to be the very peak of manly perfection, I had no idea…but it seemed that inquiring on the subject might be a good way to distract her.
“That is correct — you did say as much.” I slanted her a curious look. “So who precisely do you have in mind?”
“Duke Senric Torrival of Gahm,” Gabrinne announced proudly.
Of course I had heard of him, although I did not think I had yet seen him. But… “Isn’t he quite old?”
“Old?” She snorted. “He is older than we, true, but still in the prime of life. He is forty-one, I believe, or thereabouts.”
That still sounded quite old to me, surely more than twice Gabrinne’s age. Then again, age differences such as that were not all that uncommon in noble matches…although usually it was not the young women who sought them out. “Is he here?”
“Yes, he is standing near the high table as well. There — the tall man in the dark grey doublet.”
She apparently remembered enough of her manners not to point, but the jerk of her chin toward the spot where he stood was not all that less obvious. I let my gaze travel in the direction she had indicated, and saw a man of a hei
ght with the Emperor, although a good deal older. His profile was to us, and I saw a fine hawk-like nose and strong chin, and dark hair cut somewhat shorter than was currently the fashion. Perhaps there was a glint or two of grey in those heavy tresses, but certainly he did appear, as Gabrinne had protested, in the very prime of life.
“Ah, he is a very well-looking man,” I told her, and she smiled at my approval. “I am surprised he is not married already.”
“He was, but she died in childbed some years ago, and has never sought another wife. I suppose he must have loved her a great deal, to wait so long to marry again, but I daresay enough time has gone by. Besides, I am sure I can make him forget her.”
These words were said with such conviction that I had no doubt Gabrinne would succeed in her schemes. Would that I had her confidence!
“And does your father know of your plans?” I inquired.
A toss of her splendid curls. “No, but really, I think he will be quite happy with a duke, once he gets over the disappointment of my not being Empress. Gods, that’s the last thing I want! You cannot call your life your own, when you must live at court and do everything just so.” My expression must have fallen, for she hastened to add, “That is, I am sure you would not mind, because I can tell you’re at least half in love with His Majesty already, and love can smooth the way in such things. But otherwise I think it must be a dreadful bore.”
I had to confess to myself that I had never thought of life at court in such terms. Seen from far away, such an existence appeared glittering and perfect. But Gabrinne’s words gave me some pause, for I realized that the Empress must be the center of all attention, and that everything she did and said must be perfect. Put in such a way, it did seem that it could be something of a burden. On the other hand, I thought I would suffer a great deal to be Torric Deveras’ wife…and besides, I doubted the Empress had to scrub floors or black anyone’s shoes.
Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) Page 9
