The mild winter air hummed with the vibration of music echoing from within the Conservatory, music that Alori Villenata, Crown Princess of the Ville-Realms, could thread with her goddess-granted magic, a sacred practice between bard and Shieldmaker which had kept all safe throughout the holy lands for centuries. This was a monumental day, however chilly and mundane it might appear from the outset. The eldest Villenata princess had arrived at the Conservatory to select her husband, the next bard prince. It was also a bittersweet day, as Alori's mother, who would have been her escort if fate had been kinder to the queendom, was only able to be with her in spirit.
Alori shirked her footman's offered arm as she dismounted the royal coach, and immediately felt remorse. She hadn't meant to offend Mr. Baejun, the stolid old man still holding out his arm to her, his graying head bowed in deference. It was only that Alori's hands were shaking and she preferred that no one know.
A quiet word of thanks was given to him as she passed the coach in a swish of skirts, on her way toward the stags tethered to the front of the carriage with delicate silver chains. The beasts chuffed happily at her approach, their calm breathing and confidence acting as a testament to their fine breeding. These stags had carried Alori and her grandmother over three hours from the palace to reach the Conservatory, traversing many rutted pastoral roads along the way, and still regarded her with serene gazes awaiting further command.
"Thank you, Bellesan. Mr. Baejun will take you to the stables now." Alori set her palm on the leader's tawny pelt. His plush fur was warm even through her thick winter glove. "Rest well, my friend."
The stag snorted, turning his muzzle into the crook of her arm. She reached up and patted the nearest curve of Bellesan's antler, then bade farewell to the other three royal draught-animals before turning toward her ultimate destination. As her grandmother, the marchioness, would say, there was no time for dawdling. Alori was about to face her future at long last... Or too soon, depending on one's perspective.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she followed the deep blue carpet that had been rolled out upon her arrival. The Conservatory rose before her, an impressive structure with a glass dome roof and stone walls surrounded by mature evergreens and berry bushes dusted with snow. The massive double doors to the main entrance stood open.
Alori steeled herself to continue through the threshold as slender fingers curled around her arm.
"You're finally here," her grandmother murmured, leaning on her walking cane. "Do you sense his presence?"
"Of course not. You know it isn't like that, Hamoni."
The marchioness' name was Arialey Nata, but she preferred her grandchildren call her by the nickname that translated into grand-woman in the old language, claiming it made her feel more important as a former commoner living among the strongest line of mages on Eala. Standing half a head shorter than Alori, who was not a tall woman by any standard, Hamoni was dressed to complement her surroundings in a white, short-waisted jacket over a stiff empire skirt in the same midnight blue shade that was favored by the Conservatory's decorators, along with silver and touches of light gold.
Always with an eye for fashion, a glittering crystal hand-grip was affixed to the end of the old woman's cane.
"Some are aware you have a favorite composer among these young bards, my dear. They'll assume it's the reason you've come three months earlier than expected, and I'm sure they're wondering if you will be able to match his music with his face."
Alori smoothed her hands down the sides of her velvet traveling dress. "It doesn't work like that, and even if it did, the bards' music won't be the only factor in my decision as to whom I shall marry."
"That's quite the sensible response. But will you be able to choose someone else, with his music stuck in your head as it's been these last months? Even I can tell that his talent is immense, and I don't have a musical bone in my body."
Alori sighed, crossing her arms. "Must you continue needling me about this?" A strained smile crept past her defenses. "Let's just hope the rest of him hasn't suffered as a result of carrying around all that talent."
Hamoni grinned. "I can agree with that." Her hand slid off the princess' arm, repositioning itself at the small of Alori's back, urging her granddaughter forward with firm, gentle pats. "Come now, we mustn't linger. They're waiting for you."
♫♫♫
Sunlight poured into the concert hall, washing the spacious theater in soft buttery tones. The bards stood on the stage, forming a line that made up the twenty-one man group which had been curated for the future queen's assessment some time ago and without her input.
The bards bowed upon Alori's entrance, drawing her eye to hair of varying length and texture, ranging in color from palest blond to gleaming, raven-wing black. A few of the lowered heads boasted unnatural colors– cherry red, orange, blue– the vibrancy garish under the unforgiving noonday sun. As they stood back up, their arms falling to their sides, each one regarded the princess and her grandmother with a certain degree of interest. At least a dozen of the bards appeared as anxious as Alori felt, their jaws and fists clenched, their arms pressed close to their sides. A handful refused to meet her gaze, while others were more relaxed, offering her nods and amiable smiles. Two in particular caught Alori's eye, but she wasn't convinced it meant anything or was necessarily a good sign.
They were on opposite ends of the lineup, each with something different about his expression that made him stand apart from the rest. The man on the far left side of the stage was so tall he would have stood out regardless, due to his ungainly stature and dyed blue hair, but it was his lazy, bored posture that rankled. This one reminded Alori of a skinny reed curving in the wind, his expression sardonic, his dark eyebrows quirked. He was like every haughty nobleman she'd ever met, the picture of spoiled insouciance, looking for all the world as though she were wasting his time.
Alori wondered if his apathy was directed at her, at being made to preen before her like a painted dovecock. Perhaps the rest of them felt the same way, like shiny trinkets in a shop window. If that was the case, she couldn't blame them for their wariness. Tradition and custom weren't often fair anywhere on Eala.
In most countries, like Cardosia in the south, kings ruled and their sons were given their choice of spouse. A Cardosian prince might as likely marry a royal from another land as a commoner from his own. Cardosians had no magic in their native bloodlines, so any country they aligned with would be a weak alliance compared with the Ville-Realms. But things were different here. Five hundred years ago the goddesses of Eala descended from the heavens, granting magic to certain chosen women of the holy lands that came to be known as the Ville-Realms, in an effort to ward off demons who had encroached on the holy city of Saseum. This magic came in three primary forms, known as ERA magic, consisting of the Elemental form– the primal magic of Eala itself; the Runic form– the magic of symbols and idols; and the Arcane form– the magic of scribing and recitation, spoken spells and incantations in the old language.
Some of the women proved to be proficient in all three forms of magic, while others excelled at one or the other. Together with the kingsguard of the bygone era, the early mages succeeded in pushing back the darkness. After that early victory over demonkind, women came to rule the Ville-Realms exclusively. Their queen was the chosen of the goddesses, the most powerful human mage on Eala, the Shieldmaker. The magical barrier the Shieldmaker cast over the Ville-Realms protected all within its vicinity from the unspeakable creatures of the five hells, but it was a taxing spell to uphold alone. In time queens began to favor musicians as lovers and consorts, utilizing the bards' music as a natural conduit to enhance their magic. Eventually, predilection became custom and for as long as Alori could remember, the crown princess had always married a bard.
Each musician at the Conservatory today was a lawful resident of the Ville-Realms, and had auditioned for his spot at the prestigious academy. Some had spent years training at smaller conservatories, while others might have gotten lucky and been recruited as children. In that sense, the men knew what they were getting into; they'd known long before today that Alori would one day arrive to pick her husband from among their ranks. But she wasn't convinced that understanding equated to approval of the tradition by everyone currently staring at her from the stage.
The lanky, blue-haired bard held eye contact longer than was altogether polite, as if he knew what she'd been thinking. Alori challenged this unwelcome scrutiny with a pointed look of her own, only to be surprised when the bard shot back with an arched brow and wolfish grin.
Did he think his irreverence would win him points? Well, he would learn his lesson soon enough. Alori wasn't the kind of woman to be endeared by rude impertinence.
She stiffened, averting her gaze to the other side of the stage and the man standing in front of the steps that led down to the aisle separating them. Her heart beat hectic flutters within her chest. This one might have been the shortest man in the theater, but his presence was anything but small. His posture was immaculate, arms clasped behind his back, his narrow shoulders squared. His hair might have been the darkest of all, but with the punishing sunshine it was hard to decide.
He tucked the inky black locks behind his ears, watching her with equally dark and unfathomable eyes framed by a thin, pale face.
Was this the man whose music Alori had fallen in love with, whose songs wove so deftly with her magic? Did he expect her to know him?
A blush rose to her cheeks, heat spreading through her body as her gaze swept the stage in a final attempt to remember each man who had been selected for her careful consideration. But trying to commit so many faces to memory was impossible. She was too distracted by the self-assured glare of the lanky bard, whose impious smirk still hadn't faded, and the mild intensity of the shorter, dark haired man.
"Welcome, Princess Alori!"
The conductor breezed across the stage, his bellowing voice echoing through the theater. Alori hadn't even noticed the Conservatory's director standing off to the side of the bards, somewhat removed from their congregation. This was only her second time meeting him. Nine months ago he'd visited the palace for her eighteenth birthday celebration. It had been the first time she'd been gifted samples of music from these particular musicians, the first time she'd heard one of his compositions played by her father in the palace's observatory.
Alori curtsied, inclining her chin. "It's a pleasure to see you again, sir." She couldn't recall the conductor's given name and hoped he would remind her without drawing attention to her error.
"Please, call me Tomso." He bowed with a flourish, his round cheeks growing red, and Alori breathed a sigh of relief. His tunic was similar to the bards', but while theirs ranged in shades of white, blue, and gray, his was metallic silver with a tasseled sash tied at the waist. The sheen of the fabric did no favors for the generous swell of his belly. "Your Highness, we've been looking forward to this moment, as I'm sure you have also. I hope the initial presentation was to your liking." He waggled his bushy gray eyebrows, so that her interpretation of his meaning became somewhat scandalous. "How are you faring? You and the marchioness made quite the journey this morning and should like to eat soon, I'd suppose."
"Yes, that would be wonderful."
Alori forced a smile, praying no one sensed the thought flit through her head that the overweight conductor probably suggested meal breaks often.
The blue-haired bard's lips twitched as he continued to stare at her unabashedly, adding to Alori's doubts that her expression hadn't betrayed her. She balled her gloved hands into fists within the folds of her dress.
Why did that one have to be so irreverent and so godsdamned good looking, even with ridiculous blue hair?
With a huff and a thorough shake of her skirts, she followed her grandmother and Tomso from the theater, but not before casting one final glance over her shoulder.
Was the shorter bard scowling at the lanky bard, or was she reading overmuch into his stormy, brooding features?
Oh, but these men were too confusing!
Up until just a few minutes ago, Alori had been convinced there was no need to suss out her favored composer. There was more to a successful royal marriage than music, and Alori had no intention of wedding someone she couldn't get along with. But now that she was here and had stood in front of him without knowing who he was, she was beginning to have doubts.
How could she choose her consort without at least knowing whose music sang so sweetly with the magic running through her veins?