The Queen paid little attention to her luncheon, concentrating instead on the notes from yesterday’s conferences as she ate. The morning had been occupied with purely Acadian concerns, but this afternoon she would be dealing with the Merchant Captains again. She hoped Solen’s secretaries had managed to unearth more information, particularly on the foreign merchants. The men had been rather opaque and difficult to read, and had not been at all forthcoming with responses in the initial negotiations. Worse, still, when she had made certain purposefully off-hand remarks, there had been no reactions to them. They were worse than professional taroc players. In her experience, most men let down their guard at least a little around a beautiful woman, but not these.
She heard Solen’s familiar footsteps, as always, accompanied by the soft rattling of his myriad charms and amulets, and did not bother to look up. A stack of papers appeared beside her notes.
“I suggest you read this,” said Solen, his soft and pleasant voice with a dry edge to it that told her there was something about this report that was of particular interest to him. Still without glancing up, she shoved the notes aside and took his stack. At once, she knew this one was not from one of his usual sources. The handwriting was different from any other report she had seen before; neat, very precise, academic. Not an agent, then. A new secretary?
If so, this was the most competent secretary Solen had found yet. She did not permit her eyebrows to rise, since such incautious expressions made wrinkles in the forehead, but she did nod approvingly. This person, whoever he was, not only duplicated everything she already knew, he provided her with a few facts and figures that were new. Nothing earth-shattering, but useful, especially the information on the foreigners who had been so opaque to her.
“Well!” she said, when she had finished. She looked up at her Chief Advisor. Solen was not particularly tall, but he was well-proportioned; nothing like her muscular Royal Guards, but she happened to know that beneath his embroidered linen robe, he had a very fit body. His face was a little too long for classic beauty, but it was very pleasing to the eye. His hands, graceful and immaculate, and skilled, were the best features of a man who was widely considered one of the handsomest of her court. “I am impressed. Instead of merely competent help, you have conjured up someone quite clever! This will come in quite handy in my subsequent discussions. I hope you intend to keep him.”
“Her,” Solen replied; unconcerned with wrinkles, he did raise one immaculately groomed eyebrow. “And I am not at all certain you will be as happy when you discover that this report was pressed upon me at breakfast this morning by your daughter.”
It was with great difficulty that she kept her own eyebrows under control; true, her daughter was a scholar, too much of a scholar really, but she had not expected so—practical—a turn to her scholarship. “Andromeda?” she replied, astonished. “All this? Was this what she was babbling to me about yesterday over breakfast?” She had long since gotten into the habit of turning a deaf ear to Andromeda’s chatter. Perhaps she should have been paying more attention. She had evidently gotten beyond the peasant histories of fauns and centaurs (who were purely rustic creatures and of no practical importance).
“Quite possibly,” Solen’s long and very handsome face remained sober, his blue eyes dark with thought. “I know she always has her nose in a book, but I was under the impression that she was reading poetry or mythical tales or something equally girlish. I had no idea she could put her finger on any fact or figure in the Palace library—but this—“ he tapped the report “—seems to indicate that this is exactly what she can do.”
“This could be very useful,” Cassiopeia replied, tapping one graceful finger on the table. “This could be a very useful talent indeed. She isn’t someone we would have to pay, she doesn’t leave the Palace, she is young and naïve, she doesn’t talk to anyone who matters, and she should be easy to control. Much easier than some of your past secretaries.” She smiled slightly. “Furthermore, she is as eager to please me as a puppy. If I begin paying attention to her, she’ll work three times as hard for nothing more than a word of praise as anyone we’ve been paying a princely salary to.”
“True, true.” Solen ran a hand through his long, black hair. “Her eagerness to please her mother will certainly be a powerful hold over her. Attention from you—more to the point, direction from you, and an indication that you are pleased with this turn in her studies, would probably be more effective than any reward I could devise for the others. But I am still—concerned. I am not certain she will remain naïve.”
“Then you would be wise to see that as she gains in understanding, she also gains in understanding just what a ruler is.” She allowed herself a slight smile. “And the difference between the ruler and the ruled.”
“And if she persists in her—delusions?” Once again Solen raised an elegant eyebrow.
Cassiopeia dismissed his question with a flick of her wrist. “She is my daughter. If she is half as intelligent as you think, she will quickly come to the appropriate frame of mind.”
#
Andie tried not to be impatient as the afternoon wore on, but it was hard. Solen had not only taken her report, he had begun reading it as he walked away. Surely he would be at least a little impressed, for she had included some anecdotal information about some of the foreign Merchant Captains from copies of ships’ logs of Acadian merchants. Copies of all logs of domestic merchant ships were filed in the Royal Library purely as a matter of historical record, although most contained little that was of historical interest. She had a notion that Solen’s secretaries hadn’t thought to look at those, and she had been right; they were covered with dust and hadn’t been looked at since they’d been put on the shelves.
But it wasn’t until dinner that she received a summons to attend the Queen from one of her mother’s ladies. Since this was not an evening when the Queen usually held a more formal dinner with the court, it meant that Cassiopeia wanted to see her daughter alone, or relatively so. Although Andie had been ravenous, her throat closed and she lost her appetite.
With her maid’s help, she changed from her tunic into a gown, waited, twisting her hands nervously in her lap while her maid put up her hair, and consented to adding a simple necklace of gold and garnet beads, something she almost never did. Wishing now that she had taken lemon juice to the ink-stains on her fingers, she made her way out of her own wing, through the marble Reception Hall and Great Hall, and into the Queen’s Wing. At this hour, there was no one in any of the public rooms except the Guards, one stationed at each doorway. The rooms were lit only by token lamps, otherwise in shadow, but the fact that most of the Palace was built from light-colored marbles made a little light go a long way. In winter, these rooms could be awfully cold and drafty, but now, in the middle of summer, the cool air flowing through was very pleasant. When she had been a child, she used to come here at night when she was too hot and just sit quietly in a corner while the heat leached out of her body.
Two of the Royal Guard were on duty at the bronze doors into the Queen’s private quarters. They let her in with a wink and a nod of encouragement, and she stepped onto the first of the many soft, brightly patterned, imported silk carpets that had been her grandmother’s dower when she came here as a foreign bride. The first chamber was a reception chamber for small audiences; softly lit by a few lightly-perfumed oil lamps, it was empty of everyone except one of her mother’s maids. As ever with any of the Queen’s servants, the girl was flawlessly groomed, her simple linen gown spotless, not a hair out of place. Like most natives of Ethanos, she was dark-haired and dark-eyed. Many beautiful women preferred that their servants be plain; Queen Cassiopeia had always insisted on physical attractiveness in those who waited on her, and this maid was no exception to that rule.
“Please follow me, Princess,” the maid said, without the usual faintly contemptuous tone her mother’s maids usually had when they saw her. Evidently this time her appearance passed the first inspection. With a nod, Andie obeyed, passing through several more chambers, also barely lit, until they came to the lesser dining chamber. This one, of marble beautifully ornamented with jewel-tone mosaic wall-murals made of millions of bits of glass depicting enormous baskets of flowers and fruit, held one large table. The Queen sat at the head of it; to her left, was Solen, and to her right, an empty chair. Further down the table sat three of her more favored ladies. Andie knew two of them by name; those two were young members of the Queen’s regular court, while the stranger was middle-aged or older. The young ones were dressed in a less elaborate version of the Queen’s gown, with form-fitting bodices, low necklines, and full skirts with tiny sleeves that left most of the arms bare. The Queen’s gown was a pale blue silk with festoons of heavy lace, which suited her blond beauty; the young lady to the right raven-haired and olive-skinned, wore cream with cream silk fringe, while the one to the left, also raven-haired, but with translucently pale complexion, wore pink with garlands of tiny ribbon rosettes.
The older woman wore a somber gown of dark ocher with ornaments of jet and longer sleeves that covered her arms to the wrist.
“Andromeda, please join us,” Cassiopeia said, with the slight smile that indicated her favor. She turned to look down the table at one of the three ladies, the one in cream. “Kyria, do you think you could manage something more attractive for those lenses than that wire frame?”
“Without a doubt, Majesty,” replied the lady, whose hobby was jewelry design, and whose talent for it was so formidable that the Queen would have no one else design for her. “The magician is a fine fellow, but his concern is function, not form.” She tilted her head to the side and one attractive, raven curl brushed her cheek. “As the Princess is young, and her tastes are austere, I believe that a carefully wrought frame of white-gold will suit liking as well as her face best. And I believe that I will ask him to construct larger lenses.”
“Larger? Surely not—“ Cassiopeia objected.
But Lady Kyria smiled. “Majesty, larger lenses will allow one to see the Princess’s eyes properly. Instead of being obscured, nearly eclipsed by small lenses, they will be enhanced. A little kohl, some malachite on her lids, and one will see the eyes first, and not the lenses. The oculars will become secondary to her face, not the first thing one sees.”
Cassiopeia’s blue eyes warmed slightly with approval. “I bow to your singular ability, Lady Kyria.”
As the Queen had spoken, Andie had gingerly taken the empty seat at the Queen’s right, clasping her hands in her lap. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her mother was not only acknowledging her oculars, she was going out of her way to make them attractive?
Larger lenses? I’ll be able to see so much better!
“Now, Andromeda,” the Queen said, turning to Andie, who started. “It is time to speak of why I asked you to dine with us this evening. Solen gave me your report over luncheon, and I am pleased. It was useful to me this afternoon. I was under the impression that you were wasting your time with purely scholastic interests; I was favorably impressed to see that you have, in fact, been turning your intellect and talents to practical matters.”
Andie couldn’t help herself. She beamed. “Oh Moth—I mean, your Majesty! I hoped I could do something to help; I hoped that Advisor Solen would see that I—that I know that a Princess—is not free to choose her own interests. Not like ordinary people are.” She decided to press her case while her mother was still looking interested. “I’m good at finding things out from books and records, I think I can be useful to you; please, your Majesty, I want to be useful, I want responsibilities—“
“And you shall have them, child,” the Queen interrupted with a throaty chuckle. “Tell her, Solen.”
The Advisor coughed slightly. “Your report provided both an example of what you can do, and a reminder to us that, despite your outward appearance, which is that of a much younger person than your true age, you are not a child any longer. The fact that you wish responsibilities speaks well of your inward maturity, and the Queen has determined that we have been remiss in allowing your outwardly child-like appearance mislead us.”
She blushed at his description of her. Well, so she was slight and flat-chested! And she didn’t like to fuss over gowns the way the Queen’s ladies did! Did he have to dwell on that?
But he wasn’t finished, and her flush faded. “So from today, you are to provide exactly the kind of information analysis to us—that is, the Queen and I—that you provided in this report, and to signal the change in your status and responsibilities, there will be some significant changes in your household. Your governess will be dismissed; you clearly have no more need of such persons. If you determine you need a tutor in some subject, another language, perhaps, you will have the wherewithal to engage one yourself and dismiss him when you are through with him. You will have a secretary of your own appointed to serve you in your researches. Your personal staff will be augmented. Lady Charis will become your Lady of the Wardrobe, designing your clothing in accordance with both your personal taste and the needs of your new position.”
The second of the two ladies present nodded at Andie in a friendly fashion. “The austere style suits you, Princess,” Lady Charis said, and Andie suppressed a sigh of relief. “Columnar gowns will make you appear taller, and a very simple Gordian-knot hairstyle will suit your face. I will simply be making certain that any time you make a public appearance, you are not left to the dubious choices of an ordinary maidservant, and that your gowns will be kept in immaculate condition.”
She hoped that Lady Charis would keep her promise of simple gowns. She didn’t think she could bear to be laced into the things her mother wore as a matter of course.
“Your six current Guards will be retired,” Solen continued, and this time, it was a surge of dismay that she suppressed.
Not that she hadn’t been expecting just this for some time, but it was horrible to hear it voiced aloud, and so casually. “They are good and faithful servants, and long overdue for retirement. They were fine for a child, but you will need young, strong men who will actually provide a visual deterrent to attack. You will have new Guards appointed, signaling your new importance to Her Majesty, and they will wear your own colors of—“
He looked at Lady Charis.
“Silver and green” Charis said promptly Another relief. Those were colors she could live with. The Queen nodded her approval; her own colors were wine and silver.
“Yes. Silver and green. Your household servants will be augmented, and you will have your own household steward appointed so that you need no longer concern yourself with the day-to-day trivia of your household.” He smiled, an expression that did not actually reach his eyes—but then, it never did. “You will no longer need to go to anywhere that you do not wish to if you are busy. From now on, whatever you want or need can and should be brought to you, whether it be a pen, or a person.”
“As is appropriate to an adult Princess,” the Queen said approvingly. “Which leads me to Lady Thalia, who will be your household steward.”
The third lady nodded. Unlike the other two, she was older than the Queen, gowned less for fashion and more for practicality. She did not appear to have been sewn into her gown like the others. The Queen continued. “She has served us as the Steward of one of our estates for many years now, and I am very satisfied with her competence.”
“The Queen is too kind,” the lady murmured. Andie didn’t see anything to cause misgivings in the woman’s expression, though, and her next words, and faint smile, reassured the Princess. “As the Princess is not the sort given to extravagance, nor is she spendthrift and frivolous, I anticipate no difficulty in managing her household.”
“You are more likely to have to join with me in urging the Princess to acquire wardrobe commensurate with her rank and status than in trying to curb her passion for gowns and jewels!” Lady Charis laughed. “I fear I have been present at one or two discussions with her dressmaker, if you will recall, Majesty.”
The Queen sighed. “’But Mother, linen is so much more practical than silk; stains bleach right out and it wears so much longer!’” she quoted with a faint air of mockery, and Andie winced.
“She has a point, Majesty,” Solen said unexpectedly, with a glance down at his own linen robes. Not that his elegant clothing had much in common with Andie’s. . . . “Especially for a—ah—young person who is hard on her clothing. As a young student myself, I chose black linen exclusively, not as an affectation, but because ink did not show.”
Andie felt an unexpected surge of sympathy at that revelation, and she case a quick, grateful smile at him.
“Indeed, she does, when it comes to everyday wear, particularly for someone who will be digging about among dusty books for most of the day,” Lady Charis agreed. “Tunics and divided skirts of linen are quite suitable for such a duty and practical, although I must insist that you are more than old enough to refrain from bare-legged scrambles about from here on, Princess.”
Again, Andie flushed a painful crimson. Her stomach kept turning over and over, the longer this interview went on. Pleasure that was half pain, followed by embarrassment that made her want to sink into the floor. Good things followed by blows, so quickly she hadn’t the time to recover before another hit her.
“However, Princess,” Lady Charis continued, “Your new responsibilities will include more Court appearances, as well as the occasional attendance at conferences and audiences, and your gowns will occasionally need to reflect your status. Silk there will be, and jewels, and other ornaments you would rather do without. You must look the part of a Princess when the Queen requires it. Think of it as armor. You are a kind of guard to the dignity of your nation and lineage, and you must wear the armor for that duty.”
“On other occasions however,” Solen added, “We will wish for you, although you will be attending similar functions, to blend with the other secretaries and not stand out.” He raised an eyebrow, and she flushed, realizing that this meant they were taking her very seriously indeed. ”If there is no need for the Princess to be present, then it should not be obvious that the Princess is indeed in attendance.”
“My beauty has consistently caused foreign princes and diplomats to underestimate my intelligence, Andromeda,” the Queen said, unexpectedly, as Solen nodded. “It is a tool I have learned to use, and use well. That is my armor. If they look upon me, bejeweled and draped in costly fabric, and assume that is all I care for, that is all to the good. You have not inherited my beauty, more’s the pity, but you have in your very ordinariness another sort of armor. You can make yourself overlooked and ignored, which is just as effective as being underestimated. I do not say these things to hurt you, child, but to educate you. The time for games and running about on the cliff steps is gone. You wish to be treated as an adult, and given responsibilities; I am doing so, and granting you the candor I give Solen.”
She looked down at the hands twisting nervously in her lap. Maybe her mother really didn’t intend to hurt her feelings, but—but they were hurt, all the same. I’m not that ugly, am I? Or no, she didn’t say ugly, just—forgettable.
“Now, I believe we have said everything we need to,” the Queen concluded brightly. “Tomorrow, the next phase of your life will begin. And tonight—we will have dinner.”
She touched her knife to her goblet, making it ring, and suddenly the room was full of servants, bustling everywhere with food that she barely touched and certainly couldn’t taste. There was no more serious talk; the Queen and her ladies and even Solen made light chatter that went right over Andie’s head, seeing as she didn’t know who half the people they were talking about were.
She did drink a little too much of the wine, though. Her mouth was so dry, the lamps were so bright, and she kept flushing for no real reason except an ongoing case of acute embarrassment, and the only thing to drink was the wine, at least until the dessert course came, and she was able to cool her flushes with sherbet. She knew she was tipsy when she got light-headed, and after that she said even less and moved with great care. A fine thing it would be for her to spoil the impression she’d made by getting drunk!
Finally, after the dessert course, she snatched at the opportunity to ask the Queen’s permission to leave; Cassiopeia was deep in conversation with Lady Charis at that point, and simply waved a hand at her daughter. Feeling as if she was trying to balance on the edge of the cliff, Andie got up slowly, and just as slowly sketched a brief curtsey, and walked out, into the shadowed rooms beyond. The Royal Guards at the Queen’s door stood like a pair of statues; she murmured a quiet “Good night” to them, and they nodded back. While she was within sight of them, she did her best to walk steadily, but once on her own, she felt her steps wavering a little, and she didn’t bother to correct them until she came into sight of the Guards on her wing. The two Guards on her own door saluted her, and she nodded back, but neither she, nor they, spoke. The cool breeze felt wonderful on her hot forehead, and it woke her up a bit, but she didn’t feel safe until the doors to her own wing closed behind her and she was able to put her back against them, closing her eyes, and waiting for the dizziness to pass.
“Princess?” She opened her eyes. One of her faithful Six, Clio, was standing beside the door to the next chamber, holding a lantern and peering through the darkness at her.
“I’m afraid I had a little too much wine and not nearly enough dinner, Clio,” she said, her tongue feeling unnaturally thick.
“Thought as much. Come along, dear,” the Guard said in a motherly fashion coming to take her arm and guide her to her bedchamber. “Not surprising; you’ve never been anything other than nervous around the Queen, and I know you were on edge about that business you wrote up for old Solen. It seems to have done the trick rumor says, and you’re coming up in the world, I heard? I think I might have a glass or two too many if I’d been sitting in your chair, having all that thrown at me.”
She turned astonished eyes on the graying old warrior-woman. “You mean—you already know?” She had been dreading the thought of trying to figure out how to tell them—her head had been buzzing with the problem all during that strange dinner. But now—
“Of course!” Clio laughed. “You can’t keep anything secret from the Guard here in the Palace. Oh, we’ll miss you like blazes, my darling girl, but we all should have been retired years ago and would have if we hadn’t been worried about leaving you friendless with those hateful bitches her Majesty set as your governess.”
“She’s going.” That, she was able to say with satisfaction.
Clio laughed. “She’s gone. Sent packing while you were at dinner. Now we won’t have to worry about you anymore. You’ll be the one in charge here, not them, you can pick your own people, and we’ve heard Lady Thalia is all right. It’s about time you got a real household of your very own, and it’s not as if you need us, old gray dogs that we are—“
“But I do need you!” she wailed, and to her own horror, burst into half-drunk tears.
#
The Queen and Solen lingered over their wine once the other ladies had retired. Not that there was even a hint of impropriety; she had ordered the outer doors to the Great Hall be opened “to let the breeze blow through,” and her two Guards could see them both, if not hear them. Such painstaking caution was how she had kept her relationship with Solen untainted by speculation all these years.
Of course, no one knew of the other ways Solen could come to her chamber, once the last of her maids had been dismissed. They all thought all of his amulets and charms were the sign of superstition and a timorous nature. If they only knew. . . .
“That went well, I thought,” she said, idly turning her wine glass around and around.
“I am cautiously optimistic,” Solen replied, steepling his hands on the table. “The Princess is pitiably eager to please you. So long as we can keep her gaze directed only at what we want her to see, this may work out very well. Certainly giving her charge over her own household will resonate well with the people. And it won’t hurt to trot her out for their inspection from time to time on occasion. Her physical immaturity will work on your behalf; no one would believe she is older than fourteen, especially not at a distance. That will eliminate those pesky rumors that you’ve been keeping her locked up because she’s feeble-minded.”
“She’ll hate that,” the Queen replied, with a chuckle. “And it will certainly cure her of wanted to put herself forward in any way.”
“I am concerned about possible marriage offers, however,” Solen continued, with a sharp glance at her. “Apparent immaturity will be no drawback there.”
This time the Queen’s throaty laugh sounded like a cat’s purr. “And therein lies the genius of assigning Lady Charis to her wardrobe. Lady Charis is much enamored of the styles from her cousin’s land of Lytheria, the ones that emphasize waif-like proportions and pale skin. Obviously none of us are suited to the style, and none of us wish to look like draped poles or famine victims, but Andromeda is the perfect model for such garments. Between Kyria’s plan to give her oculars that will make her look like an owl, and Charis’s Lytherian gowns in colors that will make her look like a ghost, any ambassador that comes sniffing about will think the child is about to fade away from consumption.” She lowered her lids in satisfaction at his look of surprise. “I’ve told you a hundred times if I’ve told you once, Solen, that fashion is a weapon, and you never believe me.”
He spread his hands wide. “Once again, you leave me dazzled.”
“Once again, I demonstrate that our abilities are complimentary,” she replied, sipping her wine. “On the whole, this evening has been entirely satisfactory.”
“Should I put her to a task?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Not yet. She’ll be busy with the setting up of her new household. Charis will appear first thing with fabric and seamstresses, she’ll feel she has to know everything about her household, even though Thalia is perfectly capable of making it all run seamlessly and invisibly, and while I am at it, I believe I will send over some of the furnishings from the Dowager Queen’s household that have been in storage to replace everything that dates from her childhood. This will serve two functions; having so much to think about will prevent her from recalling all the servants and Guards I am going to replace until it is too late to bring them back, and organizing her rooms will keep her a little unsettled.” She licked her lips.
“I want her unsettled. I never want her to be comfortable or confident. I want her always to be a little unbalanced. While she is off balance, she will not think to look much beyond what she is told to look for.”
“I think that can be arranged, Majesty,” Solen replied dryly. “I am nothing if not an expert at keeping people unsettled.”
“So you are,” she purred, and flicked a curl back over her shoulder with one finger. “So you are.”
#
When Andie woke the next morning, it was in a very mixed frame of mind; she’d had odd dreams all night, reflecting her ambivalence. On the one hand, she was about to lose her six dearest friends and protectors, people who had been more nearly parents to her than her own mother. But on the other hand—
“Good morrow, Princess!” A brand new maid dressed in a gown of green and silver swept into the room carrying a tray, which she set down on Andie’s bed. Then she handed Andie the oculars from the bedside table, something the other maids had never done. Andie put them on and watched her, a bit taken aback while she went around the room, flinging back the draperies from the windows. The tray held herb tea, buttered bread, fruit, and sheep’s-milk yoghurt mixed with honey, something Andie particularly liked for the first thing in the morning. It was, in fact, breakfast in bed. In her entire life, Andie had never had the treat of breakfast in bed before. . . for that matter, in her entire life, Andie had never had exactly the breakfast she liked best without having to ask for it, and even then, more times than not, she hadn’t gotten it.
“I am your new handmaiden, and my name is Iris,” the girl announced, returning to the bedside. She was, truth to tell, a rather plain, freckle-faced girl, big-boned and looking more like a shepherdess than a maid. But she had an infectious smile, and when she added, “Clio’s my auntie, I’ve been working in the palace where Lady Thalia’s been the steward. Auntie told me a long time ago that if Lady Thalia was ever sent for, I was to put myself forward to come along with her, especially if there was a vacancy in your household. Thalia’s a good mistress, and when I did ask if I might be considered, she said she thought we’d suit, you and I.”
Since the maid that had served Andie yesterday had been disinclined to do anything without being ordered, and was impersonal, cold, and as opaque as a stone wall, Iris was a definite improvement. Add to that, she was Clio’s niece—well, suddenly Andie didn’t feel quite so alone.
“I can do hair in the Gordian knot, the Kalliope Knot, the Centaur-tail, the Twisted Knot and Twisted Tail with sidelocks, but I can’t do curls,” Iris continued, putting the tray on Andie’s lap, shaking out a napkin, and laying it across the front of Andie’s night-dress. “I can do make-up, but someone will have to show me what I’m to put where. I’m good with wardrobe, I mend, and I can make creams and lotions and apply them, and massage. I can’t read, but I can tell stories, and I can play a shepherd’s flute.”
Andie blinked, as Iris stepped back. “You already sound much more talented than my previous maid, Iris,” she said, finally.
“Good. Then that’s sorted,” Iris said with immense satisfaction, and another broad smile. “You suit me, and I suit you. Lady Charis is waiting with a seamstress and fabric as soon as you’re done eating, Lady Thalia wants you to look over more servants while you’re being fitted, and that’s all there is for now. Would you like me to select a gown for the day, or would you prefer to?”
“Oh, pick anything,” Andie said vaguely, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Fittings already? And servant interviews? What next?
She ate quickly, drizzling the yoghurt liberally over her sliced fruit, and feeling very much as if she was going to need the extra energy. After rejecting several selections in the wardrobe, Iris brought out a plain ankle-length gown, in a blue that looked faded but actually wasn’t, and an embroidered belt that laced up the front that matched. As soon as Andie was finished with her breakfast, Iris whisked the tray away, and briskly got her into her gown, then sat her down at the little stool in front of the dressing-table. With fingers that were surprisingly deft and gentle, she brushed out and put up Andie’s hair—not in a knot, but in some kind of tail on the top of her head, with a strand wrapped around the base of it. “Centaur’s Tail,” said Iris in satisfaction, turning Andie to face the mirror. “Suits you.”
It certainly did suit her. It got her hair away from her face and under control, but it was softer than the severe knot she usually wore. She looked at herself and smiled a little. This. . .was a surprise, as pleasant a surprise as the breakfast had been.
“Lady Charis is waiting, and Lady Thalia,” Iris reminded her, and with a guilty start, she jumped to her feet.
“No slippers,” Iris said, as she looked about for her favorite old sandals. “They’re measuring your feet, too. Matching shoes to matching gowns. And new under-things, petticoats, under-gowns, stockings, underwear and all. Lady Thalia says yours are a disgrace.”
“I suppose they are; I never think about them,” Andie admitted, guiltily.
“Your maid should have,” Iris replied tartly. “You aren’t supposed to have to. I’ll salvage what I can in here, you go, Princess!”
She nodded and got up; Iris ran to the door to hold it open for her with a wink, and closed it behind her. Andie stopped dead, staring around her in shock.
There were only three pieces of furniture left in what had once been crammed full of old, outgrown, nursery furnishings. One very low stool, one small table, and a chair. The table and chair were already occupied by Lady Thalia; beside the stool were Lady Charis and another woman.
“Come stand on the stool, Princess, so we can measure you,” said Lady Charis, when she didn’t move. “That is a very good hair-style for you. I believe that your new maid is a great improvement.”
“I thought she would be,” Lady Thalia observed with satisfaction.
“Where did all the furniture go?” she asked, feeling as if she had stepped into someone else’s rooms.
“We’ve had that wreckage taken away,” said Lady Thalia. “You’re to have your wing properly re-furnished. You aren’t a child anymore, after all. You don’t need nursery furniture.”
“No,” she said, feeling dazed. “Of course not. . . .”
Obediently, she stepped up onto the stool, where the second woman, possibly a seamstress, measured every possible part of her that could be measured, drew outlines of her feet, then made a rather good sketch of her face and took measurements of that, noting the measurements down on the sketch. Meanwhile Lady Charis held up samples of fabric to her face, making humming noises to herself, handing some to the seamstress, tossing most into a basket.
And while all of this was going on, a parade of servants came into the room to be interviewed by Lady Thalia. Some, she had seen about the Palace before, others were total strangers. After each interview was concluded, Lady Thalia looked at her, with a most penetrating gaze; after the first one, Andie realized that she was supposed to give approval or disapproval, and the realization made her feel a little dizzy. She had never been allowed to pick any servants before, much less all of them!
A very few candidates she liked immediately. Some she disliked even before they opened their mouths. Some seemed utterly unsuited to the positions they were applying for. On the rest—“I haven’t the experience to judge,” she said, deferring to Lady Thalia.
She was afraid that this would lose her the Lady’s respect, but on the contrary, her new household steward seemed to guardedly approve. It was altogether astonishing how many new servants it seemed she would need. She was going to have her own cooks and all of their helpers, her own housekeeping staff, her own gardener and his helpers, as well as maids and pages, footmen and Guards. Only with the Guards did she feel on firm footing; most of them she knew at least on sight, and several were people she’d known almost as long as she had known her faithful Six. She was supposed to choose a total of eighteen; she had no difficulty doing so. All of the ones presenting themselves were young, and she thought it was going to be rather strange to see no gray hairs among them. She chose two thirds male, one third female, a ratio that Lady Thalia also approved. “The men will stand guard at the door to your wing, and in the garden,” she announced. “The women will serve here within your rooms.”
About the time that Lady Charis and the seamstress left, and the interviews concluded, the new furniture began to arrive.
“Leave my bed!” she cried in alarm, when she saw serving-men heading into her bedroom with empty hands and a purposeful look in their eyes.
They stopped in their tracks. Lady Thalia took a quick look in through the door. “The bed is the only piece of furniture in this wing fit to be used,” she pronounced. “Take down the bed-curtains, though, they’re a disgrace. And the window curtains. Bring new, in the Princess’s colors.”
And in marched the servants; and shortly thereafter, out they came, with every piece of furniture except her bed.
“Have you any particular desires as to how you want things arranged, Princess?” Lady Thalia asked, as Andie stood there uncertainly. She shook her head. “In that case, I will have them follow my diagram and you and I can retreat from this madhouse to your new study.”
My new study? she thought, dumbstruck. She followed Lady Thalia into what had been the nursery playroom, and last night had still been stuffed full of worn and broken toys, child-sized furniture, picture-books and the like. Now—
Now the warm and sunny room was a study. A real study, like her mother’s. The low bookcases, battered and tilting, had been taken out. In their place stood floor-to-ceiling bookcases, made for adult books and ornaments and arranged on the bookcases were the books that had once been arranged in piles on the floor in what she had designated as her “reading room.” There was a backless couch, with one high arm to recline against. There was a real desk, a proper-sized one, already set up to take the best advantage of the light, with cubbyholes stocked with various sizes of paper, enough pens to have denuded a flock of geese, and three fat-bottomed, heavy inkwells, the kind you couldn’t tip over if you tried, holding red, black, and sepia ink. And sealing-wax. She went over to it, feeling as if she must be in a dream, to see that there were even two kinds of seals, the kind for wax and the kind for ink. She picked one up. It was the escutcheon of the Royal House of Acadia, inside a lozenge to show it was a Prince of the House rather than the King or Queen.
Her own seal. The seal of her House. It was real. It was all real—
She turned, still holding the seal in her hand, to survey the rest of the room. Beside the desk was a proper-sized, comfortable chair, not the backless stool she had been using. There were two other chairs beside the one at the desk, and a table with four more chairs around it, all at the farther end, near the fireplace. All of the furniture was made of bleached and waxed lime-wood, which dated back to her grandfather’s day, but which she secretly preferred to the dark, fumed oak of her mother’s wing. There were no carpets, either, but she was so used to that she didn’t think she minded.
“I will be giving you the household report here every morning,” said Lady Thalia, “And asking if you approve of the menus for the day, as well as any expenditures from the household budget that I anticipate. I have looked over the budget allotted to us, and I foresee no difficulties. I take it that you prefer simple meals?”
She licked lips gone dry. “Oh, yes. Please. I used to eat whatever my servants ate—“
Lady Thalia chuckled. “There is no reason why that practice cannot continue, since the cook I have selected is both skilled and careful. It is not wise to be over-indulgent in one’s food at any age but at yours, particularly, you should continue to eat simply. And a good cook can turn the simplest ingredients into a fine meal, while a bad one can utterly ruin the most expensive and exotic.”
She nodded anxiously. “What do I need to know about my—my household right this moment?”
“I hope you approve of my choice for maidservant?” Lady Thalia asked, and nodded with satisfaction when she replied that she did. “Good. Iris is not the equal of even the handmaiden of one of your mother’s ladies—“
“Yes, but I don’t want to wear gowns like theirs, or have my hair curled and pinned up and tortured, or—“ she interrupted.
Lady Thalia held up her hand. “Which is precisely why I chose Iris when she presented herself. I was told by those I trust of your taste. I believe you value someone competent, trustworthy, and certain in what she can do, and are not troubled if she is a bit—rough-hewn.”
“I like her,” Andie said without thinking, then immediately wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. Were you not supposed to like a servant? But someone like Iris, who would be with you at the most intimate of moments, someone who would be the person to care for you if you were ill—
“Good. It doesn’t do to make friends of any servant except one’s handmaiden, and then only if one knows the girl is steady, has integrity, and knows her place,” said Lady Thalia firmly, “But if that is the case, as it is with Iris, then you will find having a friend in your handmaiden makes your path much smoother. She can and will tell you servants’ gossip, and that is an invaluable source of information, and you can trust that she either will not gossip about you, or that she will tell nothing that is not commonplace knowledge. You can trust her with any delicate matter. You can trust that she will not spy on you. All these things are valuable beyond price to anyone in your position.”
“I—I can see that,” Andie replied, once again, feeling overwhelmed. This was all so new—and the implications of what Lady Thalia was saying made her realize that perhaps it was a good thing that she had been a lonely child—because loneliness was going to be something that came with her new position, so it was just as well that she was used to it.
Not that she would have chosen differently. She felt that being lonely, or at least, alone, was not all that bad—at least now, she would have some useful work to do, and maybe a little respect.
“Let’s take a walk around your wing, and you can decide if you want anything changed,” Lady Thalia said, watching her expression keenly. “By then, I expect, Lady Charis will have a suitable gown for you so you can take your place at the Queen’s morning audience.”
Andie tried not to show her surge of panic.
#
In the end, she needn’t have panicked. Lady Charis showed Iris what simple cosmetics to apply, and the gown was not a new one, but one of her old ones, in a jade-green, with the augmentation of some bands of bead-embroidery to the neck- and hem-lines. Similar augmentation in the way of jade beads on the straps had been made to her sandals, and she wore a jade necklace and bracelets. Her mother seemed to approve; she smiled slightly when she saw her daughter, and indicated to Andie that she should take a place next to Cassiopeia’s own handmaiden just behind the throne for the audience. The one difference between Andie and the handmaiden was that Andie was allowed to sit on a low stool, while the handmaiden stood. The Audience Hall was a single large room, with frescos of dancing nymphs (all discreetly clothed) on the walls, and the floor set with sand-colored tiles. Two lines of pillars painted with vines supported the roof, and to discourage loitering, there was nothing to sit on except the throne and Andie’s stool. While this might be hard on the aged or infirm, it did keep people from crowding in to gawk and gossip.
Andie listened to everything as closely as she could, making mental notes when Cassiopeia deferred some decisions for a later date. Andie intuited that her mother would want information about the families and situations involved, and that it would be Andie’s job to find that before the continuation of the audience. After a while, she began to relax and enjoy herself. This was infinitely preferable to lessons with a dancing master that she would never use, or in the genealogies of the royal families of Kingdoms that had never heard of Acadia and would never give their realm a second thought.
There were more petitioners than there was time, which was the usual state of things; there was disappointment in those waiting when Solen stepped forward to announce that the audience was concluded for the day, but no surprise. Those who had not yet been heard would come back tomorrow, and the next day, returning as many times as it took before the Queen would get to their case. Andie was dismissed along with the rest, but at least she knew the protocols from all of her study of court etiquette; she made her bow and returned to her wing, with one of her new Guards in attendance.
It gave her a bit of a pang not to see one of her Six at the door, but she hid it as best she could, and gave each of the young men standing there an encouraging nod. One opened the door for her, and she went in, to discover luncheon was already waiting for her in her dining chamber, with Iris and a table-servant in attendance.
Another shock; the only time she’d ever had a table-servant was when she’d eaten with her mother. The servant presented dishes for her approval, served her portions of the ones she indicated, poured her drink and kept it refreshed throughout the meal—somewhat unnerving for someone who had been helping herself all these years. Lady Thalia joined her, but only after asking permission! Another shock.
But she had to admit she was beginning to find these shocks were more pleasant than otherwise.
“After your luncheon, you will bathe and Iris will give you skin treatments to smooth your wind-roughened complexion, and a massage,” Lady Thalia announced. “This is the usual order of things for a lady of rank; it isn’t done to rush straight into work after eating, it ruins the digestion. Then I have arranged for you to give a proper dismissal to your old Guards. I gather that they are the only ones of your former servants to whom you feel a friendly dismissal and a reward is due?”
A flush suffusing her face again, she nodded, feeling so grateful now to Lady Thalia that had the lady’s inherent dignity not made such a gesture unthinkable, she would have leapt out of her chair and run to hug her.
“For future reference, Princess, when a good and faithful servant retires from one’s service, it is perfectly appropriate to bid an affectionate farewell, and it is absolutely the done thing to include a monetary reward,” Lady Thalia continued gravely. “Such rewards are part of the household budget. You, however, do not bestow them directly. That is my job. They are made up into packets in leather purses in your colors, and rank and length of service determines the amount. For your information, as you should know these things, although the usual reward for a Guard is rarely more than four thalers, in the case of those who have served as long as your six retainers did, it is appropriate to double the reward to eight.”
“Is that good?” she asked hesitantly.
“Since a very good small farm can be purchased for six thalers, yes it is,” the lady replied with a nod. “Such rewards are calculated on the basis of the worth of a small farm. This allows those who have not been provident on their own to purchase something that can support them in their retirement, and perhaps even acquire a spouse to share it with.”
She blinked a little at that; the way it had been phrased, Lady Thalia made it sound as if the retiring Guards were going to stroll down to the next livestock market and buy themselves a husband or wife. . . .
But then again, what did she know? Maybe something like that was exactly what would happen. Certainly the negotiations that attended the betrothals of any royal had a lot of resemblance to a cattle-auction. . . .
Well, at least she was going to be able to say goodbye properly! And make sure her Six were going to be all right. That made her happy enough that she was willing to put up with gowns instead of tunics, and makeup, and even truly torturous hairstyles, and no more running off to the cliff ever again!
—Reprinted from One Good Knight by Mercedes Lackey, by permission of Harlequin Books, Copyright © 2005 by Mercedes Lackey. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.