by K. M. Shea
Isaia knew King Giuseppe. His Highness was unsettled with Briar’s childhood—though what else he expected when he asked a magic knight to have a hand in her upbringing, Isaia didn’t know. It was clear the continued failure of the knights to catch Carabosso, now added to the perceived failure to educate Briar on the King’s “courtly” requirements did not raise the knighthood in his estimation. To cover what he viewed as her faults, King Giuseppe would likely try to marry her off to the most traditional, politically powerful young man he could muster.
Isaia’s control cracked, and he squeezed the hilt of his sword. And that is why she will never be mine.
Chapter 4
Courtly Lessons
The following morning, Briar attended her first breakfast with the royal family. A servant had to escort her to the salon where her grandfather, mother, and father were, but Briar threw the doors open with good cheer.
The salon was beautiful and ornate—almost oppressively so—with a wood-paneled ceiling, gilded furniture cushioned with mint green pillows, and, covering the far wall, a fresco of knights battling magical creatures.
Unfazed by the show of wealth, Briar smiled and plopped down in a chair. “Good morning!”
Her mother gracefully set her teacup down. “Good morning, Rosalinda.”
Prince Consort Filippo grinned at her. “It seems you were quite the success last night! I credit your dancing skills.”
“I would think my popularity would be caused more by sheer curiosity,” Briar said dryly.
King Giuseppe deigned to bow his head in agreement.
Her father shook his head. “Deny all you like. I predict you will be the veritable treasure of the courts.” He glanced out the window and slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood. “I’m off. I’m holding inspections with the guard today. Be good.” He kissed the top of Briar’s head, hugged Princess Alessia, and was out of the room before King Giuseppe finished chewing his toast.
Princess Alessia folded her hands together and placed them on her lap, then smiled at Briar. “Today you are to meet with your ladies-in-waiting.”
Briar leaned back in her chair awkwardly as a maid filled up a tray of food for her. “What will they do?”
“It is my hope that they will help ease your transition to your new life and provide insight and useful advice,” Princess Alessia said.
“If they could guide me through the castle, I would be much obliged,” Briar said.
Princess Alessia added a sugar cube to her teacup and topped off King Giuseppe’s cup, moving with the grace of a dancer. “They will also serve as your companions and will attend your lessons with you.”
Briar perked. “Lessons?”
“Dancing and music,” Princess Alessia said.
It pleased her that she had guessed correctly on the dancing instructor—though if music meant attempting to teach her an instrument now, in the middle of an upheaval, Briar suspected it would be quite useless. She picked up a dainty teacup and sipped her drink, frowning when she realized it was not tea, but some sort of brown, bitter drink.
“You will also learn the proper conduct benefitting a princess: conversation and grace.” King Giuseppe spoke with a clear tone that reminded Briar of a cathedral bell.
She was a princess, and their main concern was that she needed to have pretty manners? Bemusedly, Briar began to suspect that royalty—though they ran the country—had a starkly different set of worries than the rest of the populace.
“I see.” She popped a few raisins in her mouth and eyed a loaf of honey-glazed bread. “I did not know the art of conversation was so mystifying I had need of an instructor to guide me.”
King Giuseppe remained expressionless, “It is because you say such things you require an instructor. You are too tactless with your words. You need to learn gentleness—and to hold your silence.”
Briar stared at the king. “What?”
“Your teacher will instruct you in the art of discretion and quietness. I hope he is up to the task.”
If Briar thought he had a shred of affection for her, she would have thrown a pillow at him. Her rock-faced grandfather had essentially told her she talked too much and was a sass! (A fine thing to say as a man who oozed sarcasm.) And he was going to try and have it schooled out of her?
Stupefied, Briar turned to gape at her mother.
Princess Alessia wrung her hands. “It is for your sake, Rosalinda, but you needn’t let it trouble you. I should think you will enjoy learning to dance! Your father said you caught on quickly last night.”
Well. That was not at all helpful. She forced herself to sip her bitter breakfast drink.
Her mother chattered on, seemingly relieved Briar did not display any open signs of rebellion. Briar kept a mild smile on her face as she looked from Princess Alessia to King Giuseppe, occasionally engaging in small talk with them.
This, she thought grimly, is exactly why I didn’t want to be a princess. Though I suspect I will quickly grow to love my parents, I can’t say I care to have my personal freedoms tossed out to be trampled in the streets.
Briar winced when she broke another harp string. She glanced from the gold lap harp she held to her new tutor—who looked as dubious as she felt. The kindly man shook his head, making his frizzy gray hair shake. “Perhaps we should end it there?” he suggested mildly.
“Yes, please,” Briar said.
Briar’s ladies-in-waiting—a group of four girls all around her age, all of them lovely, titled, and wealthy—rearranged themselves when they stood.
“Oh, but Your Highness, you were doing so well!” The girl bedecked in blue velvet protested.
Briar eyed her, but the set of the girl’s chin said she was being genuine. She appreciated that her mother had found her wonderfully kind ladies-in-waiting, but in her less charitable moments, she wondered if she couldn’t have also managed to find clever ladies-in-waiting. “I’m afraid I must disagree with you. It would be a kindness to the instrument, and to our ears, if I never picked it up again.”
The lady-in-waiting closest to Briar snorted, then covered the noise with a laugh.
“Perhaps you could try the piano forte,” the lady-in-waiting who favored silk brocade suggested. “Though it is a newer instrument and hasn’t the history of a harp, it is quite popular.”
“Or you could take up singing.” The lady-in-waiting who was bedecked with jewelry suggested that. She was a pretty, curvaceous girl who appeared to be the self-appointed leader of the little group.
“No,” Briar said firmly. “I have not the ear or voice for singing. I’m quite wretched at it.”
“Your grandfather might like you to take it up, though,” Velvet pointed out with a worried expression.
“Then I will sing for him, and he will drop the notion in an instant,” Briar said.
The fourth lady-in-waiting—the one who occasionally let her manners slip enough to laugh at Briar’s pithy observations—grinned, then snapped open a fan to screen her lips.
“Never mind,” Jewel said with a sweet smile. “Next, I believe, we are to attend lessons of decorum in the gardens. Let us be off!”
“We should take Her Highness through Aeternum Hall,” the fourth lady-in-waiting said. “I think she would quite enjoy it.”
Silk tapped her lower lip. “It is rather impressive…and the harp master released us early.”
Velvet fixed her skirts. “Yes, let us visit it! I rather think Her Highness would like to see the portrait hanging there.”
“Very well, this way.” Jewel led the way, exiting the gold-leafed music room.
“I beg your pardon, but what is Aeternum Hall?” Briar asked.
“It’s a back hall of the palace. It is technically set aside for the exclusive use of the Magic Knights of Sole, but—decades back—they made it into a sort of trophy room,” Jewel said.
“It’s a favorite place for young, eligible ladies to visit,” Velvet giggled. “Because you stand the greatest chance of seeing
a magic knight there if you cannot visit their training grounds.”
Together, they followed a turn in the hallway. “It’s rife with the history of the knights,” the fourth lady-in-waiting explained.
Briar inspected the dozens of suits of armor that lined the hallway, vaguely wondering who kept them shiny. “In what way?”
The lady-in-waiting smiled enigmatically. “You’ll see,” she promised.
After a few more turns and two staircases, Silk pushed open a large wooden door—which bore ornate carvings of a helm set on a winged shield, the crest of the Magic Knights, in its panels.
Velvet poked her head in and mewled in disappointment. “It’s just us—though I suppose that makes sense. The knights are usually training now.”
“It’s still worth visiting,” Jewel insisted. “Come in!”
Briar, feeling as if she were trespassing, slipped into the chamber after her ladies-in-waiting.
Aeternum Hall was a work of wonder and beauty. Its vaulted ceilings were painted with a star motif, giant windows as big as a cart let thick sunbeams in, and a huge fireplace the size of a horse dominated the far end of the room.
Briar had assumed it would be some sort of haven for the male gender, but it was surprisingly beautiful and comfortable.
Two sets of rectangular tables were strewn with maps and models, and were completed with matching chairs and silver cushions. A number of bookcases stood near the entrance, and blue banners with the Magic Knight crest hung on the walls. The focus of the room seemed to be the line of weapons fastened to the wall, and a giant portrait of a woman.
Velvet glided across the room, making a beeline for the portrait. “Come, Your Highness. You’ll want to see her.”
Briar, starting to feel guilty she had viewed her ladies-in-waiting and found them wanting when all four of them were proving to be so thoughtful and sweet, dutifully followed.
The woman in the painting was gorgeous. She was not breathtaking—the way Princess Gabrielle of Arcainia was rumored to be—but there was an unusual elegance to the set of her shoulders, and the curl of her smile was inviting and warm.
Her hair was a shade lighter than Briar’s—though it looked even more luxurious and thick. What was most surprising, though, was that her laughing eyes were the same shade of blue-purple as Briar’s.
“Who is she?” Briar asked.
Silk’s smile was so big her eyes crinkled. “The founder of the Magic Knights of Sole and your ancestor: the Queen of Hearts.”
With newfound curiosity, Briar gazed up at the portrait.
The fourth lady-in-waiting stood next to Briar as the rest of the girls dispersed. “Perhaps our country’s most popular leader, the Queen of Hearts was crowned ruler of Sole and created the knights when she wasn’t much older than you. Most view her fondly, as a fable, but the Magic Knights hold her quite dear. The portrait was painted roughly a decade and a half into her reign.”
“My history teacher taught me some of the things she did,” Briar said as she took a step closer to the painting and the weapons mounted on the wall. “She purged the courts of corruption and created a golden age for Sole—with the help of the knights.”
“She was astoundingly clever,” the lady-in-waiting agreed. “And you, Your Highness, are of her bloodline.”
Briar laughed. “I hope you do not have increased expectations because of that. But what are the weapons?” Briar squinted at a metal plaque that hung beneath a crossbow. “ ‘A legendary weapon?’ Then—are these really they?”
“Yes,” the lady-in-waiting said. “These are some of the weapons forged for the original Magic Knights. There are four more besides what you see here; they have been granted to knights by your family. The rest have been lost to history.”
Briar remembered learning about the weapons with Isaia. The term legendary knight was given to knights who had been granted a weapon that belonged to one of the original knights. Legendary weapons were more powerful and potent than anything that had been created since. It was believed some of them were powerful enough to shake the ground or part waters.
Briar inspected the next weapon—a halberd. “Three of the current legendary knights were sworn in by King Giuseppe, yes?”
“And the fourth by the Princess Alessia, correct.” The lady-in-waiting watched Briar as she leaned closer to get a better look at the etchings on the halberd’s head. “We haven’t had more than six legendary knights in two generations. Most royals don’t want to risk the backlash if they choose incorrectly.”
Briar winced. Part of the tradeoff for such powerful magic was that the weapons were rather…particular. If a royal presented one to a knight—and the royal had to be of the d’Avalas line as the transfer involved blood—and the weapon was not a proper match, the ruler and the knight would both be badly injured during the incomplete transfer—possibly even killed.
Sir Roberto had once told Briar that all legendary weapons had names, and if a royal wanted to give the weapon to a knight, they had to learn it. How that was accomplished, he could not say.
Inspecting the weapons, Briar could tell they were beautifully made—and most likely incredibly costly—but they didn’t seem particularly magical. (Not that she was an expert in magic, but still. For weapons that could supposedly slice open the earth, she would have thought they would at least sparkle oddly or something.)
She turned her attention to the next weapon, a two-handed sword. She had just enough time to admire its white-gold hilt and beautiful blade—again with runes etched in it—when a strange feeling overwhelmed her.
It felt like someone had placed their hands on her shoulders. Briar tried to turn her gaze away from the sword, but she couldn’t. Something whispered in her ear and at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite hear it.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” the fourth lady-in-waiting asked. She snapped Briar out of whatever had been wrong, procuring her thankfulness. “Since I was a child, I’ve always been so proud to be from Sole. Loire may have its tactical geniuses, and Erlauf its incredible army, but we have our Magic Knights!”
“There’s something simultaneously wonderful and hopeful about it,” Briar admitted.
The lady-in-waiting laughed. “I’m glad to hear you think so. Most girls our age sigh over how romantic it is. I don’t think they understand quite what it means to have independently organized knights outfitted with magic weapons and anti-magic armor.”
“Your Highness, Lady Delanna,” Jewel called. “I’m afraid we must take our leave—the elegance instructor awaits.”
Briar fell in line with her lady-in-waiting, Delanna. “Thank you for suggesting you all bring me here.”
Delanna smiled warmly, making her pretty face light up. “I am happy you enjoyed it.”
Together they slipped out of the door, though Briar paused long enough to glance back at the portrait of her lovely ancestor and the legendary weapons.
It was just my imagination. She thought as she studied the two-handed sword. Nothing more.
Several days later, Briar, her eyes bright with exhilaration, followed her father and ladies-in-waiting into the royal stables.
“I’m sorry to say you’ll have to remain on palace grounds for today, darling.” Prince Consort Filippo smiled apologetically. “Tonight I will make arrangements to organize an escort for you, and then you’ll be able to venture outside Ciane’s walls.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Velvet said.
Though by now Briar was thoroughly acquainted with her new friends, she couldn’t help but continue to call them by their dressing preferences. It had become something of a tender nickname—except for Delanna. Her character was more difficult to grasp, but she also spent the most effort attempting to befriend Briar and become a confidante. The others, it seemed, were content with a pleasant camaraderie.
“I believe all of you but Rosalinda have your own mounts, yes? Come, Rose. I’ll show you the choices.” Consort Filippo’s eyes sparkled wit
h love as he held out his arm for Briar to take.
Her good humor bloomed into a wonderful mood. The name Rosalinda still raised her hackles, but Rose was a healthy combination of her disguised name and her royal name. I wonder how I could get more people to call me that…
Arm-in-arm, Briar and her father walked through the rather impressive stables as her ladies-in-waiting scattered to the stalls where their horses were already brushed and tacked up. Together they strolled past a pair of sturdy ponies—most likely hailing from the hilly regions in the south and near the east coast; several muscled, war-ready horses Briar suspected were heavily related to the magic knight’s mounts; and stall after stall of beautiful riding horses with curved necks, sculpted heads, and a light body perfect for running.
Briar’s father tugged her to a stop in front of two stalls of such palfreys. Both of them were bay-colored, though one was more of a red bay and the other was nearly black. Briar could see the two she got to choose from were older, calm, and would probably have to be greatly encouraged to get more than a trot out of them. Still, Briar liked riding and would not hold the beginner mounts against her father. (Particularly because she suspected this was all King Giuseppe’s doing.)
“They’re quite beautiful,” Briar said. The horses—mares, both of them—curiously edged to the front of their stalls so they could sniff at her.
“They used to belong to your mother—though she hasn’t ridden in years.” Her father grimaced briefly. “You do know how to ride?”
Briar laughed. “Yes.”
Filippo smiled ruefully. “I thought you did. The reports said you did, but I never thought to inquire how well.”
“I learned on Valor—Isaia’s mount.”
Filippo snorted. “If you learned how to ride on a magic knight’s horse, these two are going to bore you. I thought you could handle yourself—you do have your gift from the fairy godmother—but some still thought it would be prudent to start you slow.”
