The muscles beneath my eyes twitch with tiredness. I meant to sleep before tonight's banquet in honor of the "found" Prince of Caruca, but the last ten hours have sped by in a state of tense anticipation. Over and over, hope swelled as I stretched my awareness through the fort. Driven by the conviction that the next mind I touched would send me tumbling into a warm cloud of feathery dandelion seeds. The next mind would be Kel's. Or the next one. Or the next.
But I have not found him. And now jittery and washed out, my taut attitude is doing nothing to appease the nervous maid. She tugs the threads of my dress too tight. She dabs garnet lip-dust on my lips and smudges dark charcoal so thickly around my eyes I look ghoulish. As she braids my hair in front of a silver-wrought mirror, I make a mental map of the fort, trying to work out what my search missed.
But doubt spreads through me. What if the Duke has ordered Kel from Lyndonia? What if there is some truth in Brin's amulet protections, and they have confined my brother in a crystal-padded room where I cannot sense him. Or, worst of all, what if Kel's mind has altered beyond recognition? Experience shifts perception. The way we perceive and interpret the world alters the form and texture of a mind. Tug's mind reshaped right in front of my inner eye! How much could Kel's have changed over the last few days?
There comes a knock on the bedroom door, splintering my thoughts. The maid jumps. Flower-headed pins scatter.
"Leave them."
"But your hair," she stutters, "is half done."
"It is fine."
My visitor is not Tug, Brin or the Prince. I nod at the maid and when her back is turned, rush to the fireplace to stand with my hands in reach of the poker.
The door opens. The maid curtseys and shuffles aside revealing the Duchess.
"Your Grace," I say, curtseying and bowing my head. Her guards wait out of sight. How many are with her, or where they are positioned is inconsequential. She is the threat, not them.
As the maid leaves, Duchess Elise stands by the door, watching me. I do not rise until the tilt of her head shows me I have her permission. In the soft glow of the room's torchlight, her face is a mystery. Not a single line around the mouth nor eyes reveal her thirty years. Not a hint in her expression tells of her shock and sudden illness in the royal hall. It is as Tug said. As though it never happened.
I smooth my hands over the pale-gold waist of my silk dress and take slow breaths, my chest pushing against the fitted bodice.
She sways towards me, enquiring eyes locked on my face. "It is as I feared," she says. "They have exhausted you riding through the night on horseback."
"I am well, Your Grace. Thank you for your concern. And I am happy you seem in better health now," I add, prodding to see if there are any cracks in her mask of dignified composure.
"I am much better, thank you, Mirra. A disagreement with the dragon-fish I ate for lunch. May I sit with you before we are called for dinner?"
"Of course." I move to the window seat, showing her my back so she cannot read the disappointment in my face. I had planned on spending a few minutes spying on the Duke and Duchess before the banquet. I wished to scan what they have done since our meeting in the great hall. The Prince will expect it. And without more information about the Duchess, I am vulnerable.
She sits close beside me. Her auburn hair has been restyled in a stunning weave of gold and silver clips. Matching gold and silver leaves embroider her ruffled cream dress.
"Your father must trust and esteem your guards very highly to have sent you and Prince Jakut all this way with a two-man escort."
I sit up straighter, tiredness diminished by a prick of adrenaline. She is probing for information about Tug. No Tug, she won't simply forget you. She might not divulge your presence to the Duke, not yet, but that is because she wishes to understand it first.
"Tug and Brin are his best swordsmen, and Prince Jakut wished it so," I say. "Under the circumstances, my father accepted it would be safer for us not to draw attention with a large group. I disguised myself as a boy." I laugh, feigning embarrassment at this confession and hoping it will win a little of her confidence.
She tilts her head and looks away, then she smiles. "Well, I can see you are resourceful and you must hold the Prince dear to your heart." The tiny muscle beneath one of my eyes twitches wildly. "Tell me, what is your agreement? The Prince has asked your father for your hand?"
I do not answer, knowing she will take my silence for assent.
"Your father was not aware he is promised to another?"
"What do you mean?" I blurt, not having to fake the surprise.
"He has been promised to the Princess of Rudeash since he was fourteen. It is common knowledge in the Ruby Court and, I thought, in every court throughout Caruca."
Rudeash. A northern kingdom separated from Caruca by a hundred miles of snow and ice.
The Duchess's scintillating gaze is like the heat of a fire. I want to turn away. Deadran and Jakut have kept this from me on purpose. Jakut's confession in the great hall was timed to turn me into an unpoised, distracted girl from the north. How better to convince the Duke and Duchess I am so naive I believe the Prince's interest in me genuine? After all, I cannot even remain composed greeting a Duke! But how will he justify such a ruse of unkindness to his aunt and uncle?
"We have not had the chance to get to know one another," the Duchess says, adjusting a silver pendant around her neck. It is the heavy, leafed pendant she clutched in her memory of losing Tug. "Such news from a stranger must be difficult to bear, but I can see it has not gone too far yet, and I must warn you of the Prince's reputation."
"Reputation?" I echo. My dress grows itchy. I pull at the waist where it's cutting off my breath.
"He has seduced several young women at the royal court. His recent relationship with Lady Calmi led his father to advance the wedding. Last summer, he sent Prince Jakut to the tundra, ordered to return with his bride though she is not yet thirteen."
This explains why Jakut was in the far northern regions when his escort was attacked. I prickle at the idea of a young girl traded off to an unknown man in a kingdom thousands of miles from her home and family. Apparently, it is not better to be a princess than an outlawed Uru Ana.
"I do not understand," I say feebly. She pats my hand, then rises and crosses to my door. I think she means to leave, but she returns with a serving boy holding a tray. She takes two shiny silver goblets and hands me one.
"It will help calm your nerves."
I sip. The wine tastes bitter, but the warmth that blooms in my chest is pleasant. I take a longer gulp, pretending to watch the boy as he slips away, while from the corner of my eye I observe the Duchess. Does she really believe my father is Lord Tersil from Delladea, and out of ignorant good faith, he allowed me to leave home with my fiancé Prince whose life is in danger? What fear lies in this court that they risk harbouring a child shadow weaver and close the fort to visitors?
The wine unwinds my muscles. I sink back into the window seat, feeling more relaxed and confident. I will find a way of playing the naïve, wounded maiden to my advantage. Maybe Elise will take pity on me and help me escape Jakut. I could ask her for horses and secret passage from the fort. I could stow Kel in a giant chest of dresses, or a wagon, and remove him from under their noses.
The Duchess studies me. "This is a lot to take in. But I can see you are a sensible girl."
"Why would he do this?" I say. "My father would have sent Tug and Brin or as many men as he wished for his escort. Why trick me like this? Am I a distraction? Something to amuse himself with before returning to the Ruby Court? And where is his bride-to-be?"
Elise frowns and twists the stem of her goblet between thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps I am wrong." She takes a sip of her wine. "A year can change a young man. Perhaps to delay giving you up he has come here instead of returning directly to the Red City. He has never spoken of the Princess of Rudeash?"
"No."
"But your father, Lord Tersil, must know the pressures on the Prince to make a formidable alliance that will strengthen the kingdom."
"In Delladea we marry for love."
A sudden memory overpowers my inner eye.
Sweet perfume assaults my senses. Water flows through a narrow waterway.
"He is the King's brother! The King will not permit him to marry you," Tug snarls.
"You are wrong. He loves me. It is as good as done."
"The heir to the throne shoulders a great responsibility," the Duchess says, her voice snapping my attention back to the room. "The King could never allow your match, even if the Prince wished it."
I press a finger to my tingling forehead. I have spent too long in the mind-world today. How will I manage the banquet with all those memories swamping my thoughts?
"What good is it being a prince if you cannot marry whom you wish? No wonder he is careless in matters of the heart."
The Duchess's eyes soften. "I have seen the way he looks at you. He is enchanted, and you are an unusual girl. Perhaps we can help one another. Find out what happened when he went to the tundra. Perhaps the King of Rudeash changed his mind and refused to send his daughter. Whatever occurred, it may be linked to the attack on the Prince's escort. Your feelings for him now are confused, but I am sure you do not wish to see him hurt again."
"I do not."
The Duchess floats to her feet and sets her goblet on the windowsill. My body is shaky, but I rise as politeness dictates. "Let us go to dinner together," she says, taking my arm and linking it through her own. "We are already late."
"I will join you in a few minutes," I say.
The Duchess brushes her palm to my cheek like a mother would to her sick child. Her cool hand feels waxy and lifeless. "Our conversation has upset you more than you would like to admit."
A breath shudders through my chest. "Perhaps I should take dinner in my room," I say.
"You cannot run away from this. Better to tackle it straight on. Speak to the Prince tonight."
"But I will be speechless before him."
"You will tell him I came to see you were settled in. I asked about the Princess Aliylah. I was afraid some terrible fate met his future bride when his escort was attacked."
"Thank you, Your Grace. I am grateful you trouble yourself to help me. Prince Jakut has deceived me as far as my own favour is concerned, but I still care for his wellbeing. I do not doubt his decision in coming here. You are honest, good people. Until his father returns from the Etean war, you are the only ones he can trust."
"Is this why he has come? To wait until there is news of his father's return from the Etean front?"
"I believe so, Your Grace."
She entwines her arm around mine again and leads me to the bedroom door. "Elise," she says. "You must call me Elise. I am agreeably surprised to discover the young Prince's affection for you, even if it cannot come to anything. Perhaps all the rumours about him are unfounded, or he has finally grown up."
I cannot imagine what these rumours of the Prince's conquests and lovers entail. Nor do I possess the energy or will to try. Let the Duchess ponder Jakut's uncharacteristic interest in an unsophisticated maiden from the north. He is right. Attempts to dissect our romantic relationship will distract the Lyndonian court for days.
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