Of Summer and Winter

IV. Gold is Truly Your Color

I gaze at myself in the mirror, admiring my languid curves and loose auburn ripples in the golden dress. It is bedecked with glittering beads, sewn into every corner and pleat, to complement my tall golden diadem. I’ve taken extreme measures to keep it secret, commissioning it from my personal tailor and threatening him with death if he told anyone. If it is one thing I hate, it is being outshined by some minor lady of somewhere-or-other. Especially tonight, when I have the best chance of finding myself a suitable husband.

“You look lovely, Issera,” Romulus says, strolling in calmly. His tunic is more teal than gold, stitched with waving, watery patterns. Rhea totters behind him, dressed in a pale blue overskirt and an overdress that was just a shade lighter. I sigh in relief; it would be truly a scandal if my mute, useless little sister were to steal the limelight.

Ah well, she’ll do fine on her own, winning sweets from pitying ladies like she always does.

Rhea stares at me in that way of hers that hints at knowing my thoughts. I flash her a glare before asking Romulus, “Have you set your eye on any young lady of the Isles?”

Romulus smirks. “I hear there is a Rinnar lady, Galia of Tipre. She is rumored to be quite the charmer.”

I feel myself turn green with envy. “Are you suggesting that she is superior to me?” I sniff. Across from me, Rhea gives me a suppressed smile. At least she can’t laugh.

“No, I-”

“Good.”

“Are we going to go to this ball, or not?” he asks, looking at me expectantly. Rhea taps her foot.

The ballroom is sorely below expectations. Back at home in Kretrin, we had  marble floors and wide, gaping windows with golden frames. But here, we’re dancing  atop a high terrace, right underneath the stars, and the floor is made of grass and the occasional stone or two. The queen stands ready to welcome visitors, and would be radiant in her simple, deep orange gown if not for that queer scar mangling the side of her face.

“Welcome, King Romulus. Princess Issera, you must know that gold is truly your color. You look magnificent.” she says. I afford her a fleeting smile.

“Thank you, my lady. May I offer my gratitude for allowing the Isles to meet here in Summerhall?” he smirks.

“You may,” she replies with a bemused tone, before Romulus bows and walks away, escorting me with him and leaving Rhea to toddle behind us.

“There’s something wrong with that queen. Her scar; it’s not natural, is it? She must be some sort of witch,” I tell Romulus as we pick our way through the crowds of dancers and courtiers.

“Hush, Issera. You never know who may hear us in this web of lies.” he responds.

“Oh, I see how it is. You stay here and take care of Rhea, I’m going to go speak with that strange queen. I want to know more about this scar.” I stride away, looking for the queen. Eventually, I see her, still at the entrance, welcoming in an auburn-haired lady in a thigh-length magenta dress with a trail of plum-hued ruffles cascading behind it. I wait until the other woman goes away before approaching her.

“Who was that?” I ask.

Legannia appears startled, but regains her composure. “That was Lady Galia, the illegitimate daughter of Lord Dairon of Tipre. She is a regular face here, as her father constantly tries to rid himself of her.”

“My brother seems fond of her,”

“As does mine. She is mysterious and yet alluring, like one of our tropical flowers.”