Miranda stepped forward, reached out, and took the proffered necklace. She held it one hand, watching the candle-light glint off the sapphires and set them to sparkling. "It will not suit me as it suited her, if it even fits. Sapphires do not match my eyes, and I have not her fair skin. But...it is a generous gift. Thank you." She felt an urge to leave before Princess Romana could see her cry.
Romana looked at her. "Remember her. Remember her in all her virtues, and forget her faults."
"Yes," Miranda muttered. "Thank you, your majesty."
Romana sighed. "I suppose you had better return to your room now, and await your departure. Hyllia!"
Hyllia swiftly returned, looking a little disappointed that Miranda was not dead yet.
"Escort Filia Miranda back to her chamber," Princess Romana commanded. "And send the others in."
"One last thing, if I may, your majesty," Miranda said.
"Yes, Filia Miranda?"
"Don't let them kill you," Miranda said. "Remember what happened to the last princess who made them uncomfortable."
Romana smiled slightly. "I intend to do much more than that, Filia. The patricians, the comitia, the army, the church, I intend to bring them all to heel. And I will not die before I do so. Farewell."
Miranda bowed her head. "Majesty." She backed away until she reached the line beyond which it was permitted to turn her back on the throne, and then followed Hyllia back towards the doors. As she was leaving, she saw Amy, Jason and Wyrrin being led in by one of the princess' guards.
"Amy," Miranda said softly. "How's Michael?"
"Still asleep," Amy said. "He'll probably wake up while I'm not around."
"Is anyone with him?"
"Metella Kardia," Amy said.
Miranda nodded. "I see. Amy, I-"
"What's done is done," Amy said. "Fame can't be found looking back. Are you allowed to say what's going to become of you?"
The guard coughed loudly.
"Right," Amy said. "Mustn't keep the princess waiting. Good luck."
Miranda nodded. "And you."
Amy grinned. "Don't worry about me; I'm the hero of the hour, or one of them. Take care of yourself."
"Thank you," Miranda murmured, then she turned away from Amy and her companions and allowed Hyllia to lead her back to her room.
Amy knelt before the Imperial dais, feeling the eyes of Princess Romana staring down at her.
Over her head the painted ceiling loomed, with all its gods and spirits. This place put her in mind of the Godseat in Ocean’s Heart, the one time that she had visited the placed in the company of Ser Viola. She was not sure if Turo's seat of power was larger, or it was simply the fact that she had been smaller then had made the place seem bigger. It felt much the same though, the same grandeur, the same sense of being rendered small to remind you of your insignificance, the same sense of power radiating from the chair that sat above all else. On that day she had seen God's Right Hand sit in the coral chair and dispense justice, and she had felt the power that came from the ancient seat, imbuing the naiad who sat in it with a majesty that she felt sure would be lost the moment he rose from his perch.
The difference now was that Princess Romana did not sit in the majestic chair, but stood beside it as though she were its guard. And yet she too radiated majesty, almost as much as did the throne itself. Yes, as Amy dared to glance up at her, she thought she could discern what Michael had seen in this woman. If ever there was someone born to rule, Princess Romana was surely it. She bore herself with the kind of self assurance Amy had elsewise seen only in the highest lords amongst the naiads, the descendants of Turo himself. This was not a woman who could have survived a whole life in a lesser seat, not when she had been born for the very highest.
"I am going to say this again, in a more public setting," Princess Romana said. "But I am saying it now so that you believe me sincere: you have my utmost thanks and gratitude for your actions last night. You have the thanks of the Empire."
"Your majesty is too kind," Amy murmured. She knew how this game was played better than Jason, who had learnt nothing of the palace he had been raised in, and certainly far more than Wyrrin, so they had both agreed to let her do most of the talking.
Princess Romana snorted. "I did not realise you were a modest woman, Filia Amy."
"I am a woman who knows how to speak to princes, majesty," Amy replied.
Romana let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, I suppose you are, aren't you? As I understand, you are a prince yourself, after a fashion."
Amy looked up. "Whoever told you that has oversold it, majesty. I am merely a great lord's heir, though I can claim a lofty heritage." She decided not to brag about precisely how lofty her heritage was, lest the princess think that Amy was trying to diminish her by the comparison. Never mock a lord at his own table, so the saying went, for his shame and anger will both last longer than his hospitality.
"I see," Romana murmured. "I suppose, since you seem more experienced of courtly life than even my own brother, you are aware of why I have asked you here."
Amy considered it. "I have ideas, but I do not know for certain."
Romana turned away and began to pace up and down the dais. "Soon I shall be elevated to the Imperial dignity. I shall become Princess Imperial in form as well as in fact, and I shall be able to touch and sit this throne. Amongst my first acts will be to reward those whose value was instrumental in saving the Imperial capital from the treachery of the false lord Quirian."
Amy understood now. "You want to be sure that we will not refuse the rewards you offer, and thus embarrass you before the people."
Romana nodded. "You have it exactly. So, I have asked you here to discuss with you what I might give you. Filius fire drake, what is your name."
Wyrrin looked up. "Wyrrin of Arko, Mistress Ruler."
Romana looked at him. "In this land, sir, the form of address is 'majesty'."
Wyrrin bowed his head. "Forgive me. Where I am from we have no kings, only Master Rulers."
Princess Romana waved one hand dismissively. "A mistake is not insolence, unless it is repeated too often. I understood, before you confirmed it for me, that you were a stranger here, brought to our land in chains, is that correct?"
"It is, mis...Majesty. I was taken as a slave by the men you call Lavissari, and sold across the Empire to the place you call Corona."
"Would you like to return to your home, to Arko? It can be arranged. I can give you letters of safe conduct across the Empire, or even a ship to a port on the coast of your choice."
"I would call that more a punishment than a reward," Wyrrin said. "The only thing that waits for me in Arko is death. If majesty will, I would rather stay in this land, and become a part of it, if I may."
"A part of this land?" Romana murmured. "And what would you do, if that were possible?"
"Fight," Wyrrin said. "Win fame and glory. In this battle, majesty, I have found my," he said something in fire drake, which sounded to Amy like a cough. "I do not know how you would say it, but I think it literally would be...shieldwall. I would serve with them still, if they will permit it."
"That is hardly for me to say," Princess Romana said, a soft smile playing around her lips. "As to the opportunity, that can certainly be arranged, and what you ask is none too dear for the service that you have rendered. You should give thought to a name, Filius Wyrrin."
Wyrrin blinked in confusion. "A name?"
"In this land, our names tell our history," Romana explained. "If you are to become a part, as you put it, of this land you must adopt our customs in certain regards. Your first name you may keep unchanged. As you were freed from the bondage of Jonathan Dolabella than you will take his name, as Michael has done. As I intend to sponsor you for the citizenship personally you will take my name, Panthusianus, after your own. But you must choose a family name, to mark you out and for your children to bear after you. Give it some thought." Romana turned her attention to Jason, who had not looked up at her once. "And
what of you, my brother, what can I do for you now that you have done so much for me?"
"I want nothing," Jason muttered.
"If that were true you would not be human," Romana replied. "Come, why do you fear to speak?"
"I fear to be drawn in," Jason said. "To this palace, to this family, to that chair."
"Much as you may dislike it you are of the blood of Aegea," Romana said sharply. "And, since I have neither children nor other brothers, you are my heir. That is not something you can deny because you wish it otherwise."
"I can try my best," Jason said.
Romana rolled her eyes. "You must confess that this is ridiculous on your part; there must be something in the world that you desire."
"To know my mother?" Jason asked. "I do not think that is within your power."
"No," Romana confessed. "But that cannot be all."
"I wish to be removed from the succession," Jason said. "I do not want to be your heir."
"That I cannot do," Romana said.
"Then what can you do?" Jason snapped.
"Jason!" Amy hissed.
"It is all right, Amy," Romana said calmly. She stared down at Jason for a while. "I can give you a name."
Jason looked up.
"You hate to be known as Nemon Filius, don't you?" Romana asked. "I can remove that taint from you and allow you to take a name of your choice. I can also restore the inheritance that the old...lady of the night left to you, and which my brother stole. The throne will make up any shortfall caused by Antiochus' profligacy with that which was not his. Will that do?"
Jason was silent for a moment. "Yes," he said at last. "It will do. Thank you."
"You will always be my family, Jason," Romana said. "You may not like it. You may not like what it means. You may not even like me. But we will be kin. And I will always have a claim on you because of it."
"That's what worries me," Jason muttered, though Princess Romana pretended not to hear him.
"And you, Filia Amy," she said. "What is it your heart desires?"
Amy laughed. "Fame, glory, to be known far and wide, to be feared upon the battlefield and lauded in song. Knighthood."
"Knighthood," Romana repeated. "I fear I do not know the word."
"It is..." Amy hesitated while she considered how to explain it. "It is...it's a rank, majesty, like a lord but less. A male would have Sir in front of his name and a female Ser, and lesser folk must defer to you. But it's more than that, it's an order as well, you take vows and swear to act with honour and chivalry and always behave in an upstanding way. And at the same time it's...it's everything, your majesty."
"Perhaps I could give you everything," Romana suggested.
For a moment Amy's breath caught in her throat as she realised what Her Majesty was suggesting, before she shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Only one who is themselves a knight can make a knight, and there are no knights in this land."
"Not yet," Princess Romana said. "Yet there were once no legions in this land, no wolf cults, no Aegean brothers. All were created by the Princes Imperial who came before me. Why can I not, in the same way, create knighthood in this land, with all the rights and privileges therein entailed?"
Amy's eyes widened. She had never imagined...she had ceased to hope...to think that it would come about like this, in this place..."Does your majesty mean it?"
Romana smiled. "Will you serve me, Amitiel Ameliora Doraeus ban Tiralon, daughter of Niccolo? Will you fight my battles, defend my honour, protect my heirs and uphold my rule? Will you be mine, my knight?"
"I will," Amy whispered.
Romana's smile broadened. "Then you had best teach me the words to make you one."
Miranda maintained her posture until the door was locked behind her, then she collapsed into the nearest chair.
"What happened?" Octavia asked.
"House arrest," Miranda murmured. "In an Imperial estate near Ilpua."
"Oh," Octavia said. "At least you're not dead."
Miranda looked at her for a moment, and then she burst out laughing.
"No," she said. "No, I'm not. I suppose that is something I should be thankful for."
"And I hear the weather is nice round Ilpua," Octavia said. "I'm sure...I'm sure we'll manage to be happy there."
Miranda hesitated for a moment, knowing what she had to but not wanting to do it all the same. Damn it, why was she being such a coward now, this was the least of the pain she had dealt out recently. "Perhaps I will, but you won't."
Octavia frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you aren't coming with me," Miranda said.
"What? Why not?" Octavia demanded. "Won't Princess Romana let me?"
"Maybe she would, probably she would if you asked," Miranda murmured. "But...I think it's time that you and I went our separate ways."
"Why?" Octavia whispered, getting down on her knees and looking up into Miranda's eyes. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Because I'm going into house arrest," Miranda said firmly. "Don't you understand, I will have no freedom, I will be confined to one place for however many years until the Princess Imperial decides to release me. I have to bear that, and I will, but there is no need for you to suffer the same thing. Don't you want to be free? Don't you want to be able to go where you want to, do what you want to?"
"I don't care about any of that," Octavia murmured. "I only want you."
"Oh, for the love of God, don't you want to be let down gently?" Miranda snapped. "I don't love you, Octavia, not the way you love me. And its best you know that before we get trapped in the same house together for years on end."
Octavia's eyes, those beautiful gold eyes, were wide with shock, and for a moment Miranda thought that she might cry. But instead she pointed an accusing finger at Miranda and shouted, "You know what your problem is? You're a hypocrite!"
"What?" Miranda demanded.
"I have heard you on your high horse complaining about the way that other people try to be self-sacrificing and how selfless it was. I heard you complain to Michael about it myself. You said that he was just being selfish, running away to the arena and telling himself it was for you, when you wanted a brother more than money. But now you're running away to Ilpua and sending me away, and telling yourself that you're being so selfless by giving me my freedom, when you're being just as selfish as Michael ever was, because you aren't thinking about me at all. I can live without freedom. I can live in confinement. I can live without being able to fly, they can bind my wings or cut them off if they want to so long as I can stay with you. Because I don't love freedom and I don't love the skies and I don't love flying. I love you, Miranda. And I know you love me too because I hear it and I say it and I feel it. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong. Look at me and tell this isn't you trying to be self-sacrificing."
Miranda looked at her, that lovely face, so soft and fair, that hair that fell so messily over her forehead, those gorgeous wings, that kind heart.
"I can't," she whispered.
Octavia reached out and took Miranda's hand. "I won't ever leave you. No matter what do, or where you go, I'll be there."
Miranda couldn't stop herself. She fell out of her chair and into Octavia's waiting arms.
"Thank you," Miranda whispered. "I don't know if I could...I need you."
Octavia kissed her on the neck. "You have me. You always will."
Michael sat on one of the highest branches of the tallest tree in Eena. Beneath him, golden in the dying afternoon sunlight, lay the entire world spread out before his dangling feet. The trees of the forest, the fields beyond, the cities beyond that. A whole world waiting for him.
"So that's it then," Tullia murmured from where she sat one on a nearby branch, one arm placed around the tree trunk. "The Empire is safe."
She wasn't alone. Fiannuala was there too, perched precariously on the very top of the tree, while Gideon stood upon his tree branch, keen eyes peering off into the distance.
Michael nod
ded. "The Empire is safe."
"The Empire is saved," Gideon corrected them. "For now. The Empire will never be safe in the absolute sense. There will always be another foe, another challenge. Those who presume to be the Empire's guards and watchmen can never be permitted to relax their vigilance, for the vigil itself is unending while the Empire endures."
"That's gloomy," Fiannuala said.
"And yet at the same time hopeful," Michael said. "For it means there will always be a place on the watchtowers for men such as I. I would not know how to live in a world of peace."
"It isn't as bad as you think," Fiannuala said. "A little boring at times, but restful as well. You'd get used to it. Even the boldest spirits do."
"I suppose you are correct, your highness, that it does not seem that I will have the opportunity to find out," Michael replied. He looked at them, his friends and his father. "None of this would have been possible without you."
"No, it wouldn't," Tullia replied. "But that does not excuse your lingering. It is time to go, Michael."
Michael frowned. "Already?"
Tullia's eyebrows rose. "I thought you disliked peace? Are you becoming so accustomed to it already that you cannot bear to leave it?"
"I cannot bear to leave your company, ma'am," Michael said gravely. His voice rose then, became more childlike as he asked, "Is this goodbye?"
"Not for good no," Tullia said.
"As if," Fiannuala said.
"Our duty is, in its own way, as unending as yours," Gideon said. "When you are in need, we will come, be that on the battlefield or in your dreams."
Michael smiled. "I am glad. I do not know if I could bear to...although I suppose that I would have to. I...I do not have the eloquence to..."
"You do not require it," Gideon said. "We know."
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 55
