by A. R. Henle
And ensure no one mistook her rank.
Danissa’s arrival in similar attire, albeit greens rather than pinks and three green-enameled bracelets on each wrist and ankle, did not fully resign Gisela to the cord of rank. All the same, Gisela kept her mouth shut. No sense in antagonizing anyone soon after her arrival, as she had yet to learn what was acceptable to ask or not.
The more so as she appreciated the younger dam’s consideration in stopping by to escort Gisela to the dancing pavilion for morning practice.
“Because we didn’t want to presume you’d remember after all we showed you yesterday. Not that the way is so very difficult to find, but timeliness always matters to the Terparchon as she has so many calls upon her time.” Danissa led Gisela along the hall and around a corner to an interior staircase. “Jola and Heron went ahead, but we’re not late. I’m always careful about that since I made the most awful blunder my first week as a princess. Inexcusable, really, since I knew better having grown up here, but the Terparchon was kind enough to forgive me. I’ve not tried her a second time, not yet.”
Danissa’s light, cheery voice echoed in the stairwell along with the clatter of their sandals against the smooth wood.
“Thank you for your kindness in keeping me from making such an error.”
“No thanks needed. It’s a pleasure to finally not be the youngest and least. You might think that the other princesses would give me credit for not being a know-nothing when the Terparchon finally allowed me into their ranks but no.” Danissa waved her hands in the air as she bounded down the stairs. “The older, longer-serving princesses always tell the younger what to do, even when the younger know it better than they. It’s a tradition.”
“Indeed.” Gisela laughed. “I shall be sure to allow you to tell me what to do when needed.”
“I appreciate that.” The other princess ducked her head and gave a rueful chuckle. “Though I fear all the others shall continue instructing me alongside you regardless. There will need be many more changeovers before I rank among the seniors, and changeovers are never easy. There are always adjustments and shifts, and princesses and compeers dancing with different people after than before because they suddenly match better.”
“And how is it that you know so much to begin with?” Gisela winced as they left the stairwell and turned through an archway out of the building. Her sandals fit and no longer chafed, but she missed the feel of the earth beneath her soles.
Rectangular stones formed a pathway through a vibrant garden to the nearby pavilion. Bright flowers in verdant yellows, reds, and oranges bloomed to either side; low to the ground close by the path and rising waist-high further away. Floral scents mixed and mingled with the ever-present moistness of the breezes crossing the lake. A gull squawked overhead as it flew toward the water. Bees buzzed in the distance, and yellow-black butterflies massed over the orange flowers in joyous array.
A spate of flutters similar to butterfly wings pattered in Gisela’s belly.
In the near distance, the pavilion itself loomed high. Shorter than the other buildings in the complex at a mere two stories, it nevertheless drew attention. For one, it was heptagonal—a startling choice given that even those people most fixated on the powers of prime numbers, accepted and endorsed buildings featuring even numbers of sides. The gray stones alternately gleamed and presented a dull appearance in random array. The first floor had no windows, and doors on only three of the seven sides, but banks of windows along the second floor caught the light and refracted it. A peaked roof rose above, covered in gray slates that continued the semi-random mix of light and dark.
Danissa led Gisela along the path to the nearest entrance. She came to a sudden stop square in the center of the path and set her hands on either hip. The arched doorway loomed before them. The doors were made of intricately carved wood burnished to a lustrous red-brown. The carvings were inlaid with precious stones and metals, and pierced in several places to allow airflow.
Between them and the door stood a tall, broad sire with short dark hair bound back from his head by a length of copper rope. A soldier, perhaps, given the leather breastplate and arm and leg bands he wore over his knee-length tunic. His sandals bore small wings of copper and a long knife hung in a plain sheath from the belt wrapped around his waist three times. A strong odor of leather and sweat hung about him.
“Captain Brenn, whyever am I not surprised to see you lingering here?” Danissa shook her head at the sire.
He smiled down at the young princess, though his gaze flitted back and forth toward Gisela and lingered longer on her. “I have ample reason to visit and pay my respects, princess. Now more than ever.” He bowed to Danissa, then to Gisela.
“Truly? I would have thought you to abandon us and spend more of your time lingering about the healer’s wing these days.” Danissa waved a hand, nearly dislodging the cords around her headband and setting her curls twirling. “All sorts of things might happen there, after all.”
“I know where I’m not wanted, and can take no for an answer.” Brenn shook his head, a muscle twitching in one cheek. “If you had thought further, you might have anticipated my presence here. After all, my youngest sibling is now a compeer and I come to wish him well on his first day dancing. Perhaps tease him, too.”
“Of course, I had forgot. Gisela—” She turned and flashed a bright smile and white teeth. “This is Captain Brenn of the Palace Guard, brother to Stevan whom you know. Captain Brenn, the newest princess, Gisela.”
Brenn bowed again to Gisela, smile genuine but eyes quick to take in every detail of her appearance and action.
Before either had a chance to speak more, hasty footsteps echoed from behind Gisela and Danissa.
Gisela turned to find Stevan clipping along the path at speed. He’d fastened his deep purple mantle over one shoulder with a brass pin this day. The folds of materials, and the lighter-weight tunic of pale gray below, billowed behind him. Twined cords of gold and copper at his brow glinted in the sunlight.
“Good morn, Gisela. Danissa. A lovely day for dancing, is it not?” Stevan’s face stretched wide with a broad smile as he caught sight of Gisela, sending a rill of warmth through her. Then he glanced beyond her, and his lips twisted to one side. “Brenn, what a surprise to see you here.”
“I couldn’t let you dance without wishing you well.”
“Couldn’t you?” Stevan grimaced, then managed a nod. “Just see that you don’t interfere.”
“It’s not my place to interfere, or approve or disapprove. You’re an adult, fit to make your own choices. I only wanted a glance, to start.” Brenn clapped his hands together. “Moreover, I had other reasons for coming here this morning. A summons, for one.”
With exquisite timing, the doors opened. Although they had to be heavy, they moved silently without so much as a creak of a hinge. A solid dam about Gisela’s height stood on the other side, dressed in much the same fashion as Stevan—gray tunic and purple mantle fastened over one shoulder—except three entwined cords bound back her hair instead of two: gold, gold, and copper. Although she did not particularly resemble the Terparchon, she had something of the ruler’s manner; Danissa whispered in Gisela's ear that this was the Terparchon’s eldest, Nefeli, a compeer.
Nefeli did not seem to notice Danissa, Gisela, and Stevan. Instead, she fixed immediately upon Brenn.
“Oh, good, you’re here.”
“Your messenger was . . . persuasive.” Brenn bowed, then stood square before her. “How may I be of service?”
“If Ylena will not go of her own will—” Nefeli’s gaze drifted, then bounced about between Danissa and Stevan before fixing on Gisela. “Princess Gisela?” She bent her waist in Gisela’s direction.
“Yes.” Before Gisela could say more, Danissa leapt into the breach.
“Compeer Nefeli, this is indeed the newest princess, Gisela.”
“You are very welcome, and I look forward to dancing with you at some time. Perhaps now, however, Danissa
might show you the beauties of the garden for a brief while?” Nefeli shifted in place and blocked the doorway. “I fear there are yet some preparations to be made to the pavilion.”
Something in Nefeli’s delivery, or the way her eyes lingered on each, gave Danissa a warning. She jumped in place and gave Gisela an utterly fake smile.
“Of course. You simply must see the Shadow of the Moon before the dance. Morning is the best time of all. I was just thinking this would be the perfect time.”
A small shiver rippled through Gisela. Stevan laid a hand against her back, although his face showed puzzlement. The warmth and pressure eased her nerves.
Danissa grabbed Gisela’s hand, but before she could pull her away, a sire appeared behind Nefeli. A little younger and with a slight resemblance to her, but a greater one to the Terparchon of Gisela’s memory, in coloring, but most especially in his long face with deep eyes and thick brows. He, too, wore a purple mantle over a pale tunic and a cord of gold, gold, and copper around his head. His lips were drawn tight, and embarrassment flashed across his face.
“It’s going to happen sooner or later. If it takes place here, we can at least keep it dagger short.”
“That’s right. Let her in. Let her see me and know her time is limited.” A high voice, shrill with an edge of pain, carried over uneven thumps behind him.
“I am sorry this must mar your first day.” The Terparchon’s son winced and stepped aside, nodding to Gisela.
“You couldn’t stop her?” Danissa hissed at him, slipping between them. “The healers shouldn’t have let her out. Surely they wouldn’t have if not given an order.”
He shook his head, eyes half-closed. Nefeli, too, seemed abashed as she stood off to the other side.
Behind Gisela, Stevan drew in a sharp breath. His hand closed over her shoulder, squeezing. She stood stiff as a board waiting for whatever it was that the Terparchon’s heirs were allowing to happen.
Only Brenn appeared unmoved. Feet spread wide, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited. On second glance, the tic had returned to his cheek.
Gisela faced the door as the thumps grew closer.
“Well?” A lovely dam in nothing more than a gray tunic stumped into view. Fair hair streamed down her back. Her light skin revealed every line of shapely muscles pulled taut. Brown eyes glared out of a face limned with pain and determination. She wavered as she stood on one foot, crutches propped under either arm. Bandages and lengths of wood kept her left leg straight, but she did not let the toes touch the ground.
After one quick glance around, she focused on Gisela. Anger and hurt vibrated from her so forcibly that they practically manifested as waves in the air, pushing everyone else back and away. Stevan drew a sharp breath and stepped back, his hand slipping from Gisela’s shoulder and leaving a chill spot behind.
“So, you’re the new princess. Come to claim my place, my partner, my glory. Go ahead. They’re yours.” The other dam gritted her teeth, swaying. Her hands wrapped tighter around the crutches, knuckles nearly white. “But don’t expect to keep them for long. I’ll have them back. Soon as I heal, I’ll take all back.”
Gisela blinked, unable to move amidst the palpable anger and pain. No one else moved either, or spoke.
“You’ll have to walk first.” Brenn broke the silence. “You can’t even stand on your own feet.”
“How do you think I got here?” The injured dam flashed her teeth at Brenn.
“Sheer stubbornness, but that won’t get you back. You’re already about to fall.” He waved a hand at her crutches. “You gave Gisela an ultimatum, so here’s one for you: you can stay here and drop, and watch Gisela dance off with your place and partner, or I can carry you back to the healers, and put you that much further on the way to retrieving everything you say you most desire.”
“Don’t dare touch me.” Her anger lashed out again.
Gisela raised her arms in front of her face, a moment before an invisible force struck her. Pinpoints of pain blossomed, manifesting as dozens of small red welts appearing along her forearms.
“That kind of trick may work on princesses and compeers, but not on me. I have no magic.” Brenn stepped forward, making his body a shield between the dam in the doorway and the others. “Your choice, princess.”
Ylena swayed, crutches creaking beneath her. Beads of sweat rolled down her face, and the tendons in her neck stood out.
Sympathy bloomed in Gisela. Of course the injured princess welcomed the change as little as she. Was equally if not more scared about what would become of her.
“Let him take you back.” Gisela moved to Ylena’s side in time to brace her as one of the crutches started to slip. “If I’m to win anything from you, I want you well for the winning.”
Ylena stared at Gisela for a long moment. Her eyes fluttered closed and a shudder rippled through her, then she slumped against Gisela and nodded. “Very well.”
Brenn gently elbowed Gisela out of the way and swooped Ylena up. He threw her over his shoulder. Her body jerked, air rushing out of her lungs. The crutches fell against the stone floor with a clatter. Gisela picked them up.
“Lean them against the wall outside the door.” He jerked his head at the archway. “I’ll collect them later. I hope you stay.” He gave her a broad smile. “You’ll be a breath of fresh air in the court.”
Then off he strode, with Ylena grumbling that he’d hefted her over his shoulder rather than carrying her in his arms. His voice carried as well as hers as he went, telling her the position was better for her leg because he could make sure it didn’t get banged that way.
“You handled that very well.” Nefeli nodded at Gisela, a degree of respect in her voice. She elbowed her brother. He stared after the departing pair, but started and nodded agreement before both withdrew inside.
“Did that truly have to happen?” Stevan returned to stand at Gisela’s side, arm to arm and shoulder to shoulder.
“Knowing Ylena, it would have sooner or later.” Danissa sighed. “It should have been later, if the healers had managed to keep her in bed longer. But it is not surprising she managed to drag herself here. She’s one of the most powerful princesses seen in a long time. A fact she knows well, as do the rest of us. We still wonder who tripped her.”
“Is it verified?” Stevan asked. “It was only rumor when I left to get Gisela.”
“Not proven, but no other princess doubts it.” Danissa stared at her hands, voice lowering. “To give Ylena her due, she was also not only powerful but graceful. Any dancer can fall, but in such a way?”
Gisela had not understood the reference to tripping at first. Compassion flowed in her. No doubt the injury being an act of malice stung enough to make the whole situation worse.
“Is Gisela in danger?” Stevan put Gisela’s fears into words.
“Not now, not yet, I think.” Danissa grabbed Gisela’s hand and squeezed. “Ylena flew high. Powerful, ambitious—and not caring who knew it. She wooed Todor as her compeer, knowing that would give her a chance to be named the next Terparchon. If you seek power, then you’ll court danger, but if you are content to be merely one of the princesses, as I, you should be safe enough.”
Stevan stiffened next to Gisela, setting up a small breeze along that side of her body.
“I have no desire to rule.” She shook her head.
He sighed, tension slipping from his body. Opened his mouth to speak, but Danissa got there first.
“And on that note, we are due to dance.” The other princess wrapped an arm around Gisela’s shoulders as she and Stevan escorted Gisela into the dancing pavilion.
A hall wide enough for three to walk abreast led past the princesses’ private bathing rooms and chambers for massage and contemplation. The hall also featured a fountain along one of the walls. A seascape carved in bas relief from light-gray stone with purple-blue streaks included fishes leaping from the waves to spout water that fell into a long, low tray below.
Then into the cent
ral arena. Here all was light and space. Although the circular chamber had no windows on the lower level, windows wrapped around the upper level along with a walkway so that the Terparchon or whomever she chose so to favor might watch from above. At the apex of the ceiling seven smooth glass panels allowed midday light to stream down and illuminate the vibrant floor.
Layers of paint on smooth wood created an awe-inspiring vista. Unlike the mosaics covering other palace floors and walls, this did not portray legends from the past or moments of spectacle in the land’s history. Instead it featured a seemingly random assortment of stars and shells, flowers and leaves, flames and waves, and a myriad of other images all mashed together. Yet the very way in which they were combined resulted in a sense of movement, as though they shifted place when glimpsed out of the corner of one’s eye.
The one in the second dancing chamber immediately below, where none but princesses and compeers ever went, and where they worked their magic, on the other hand . . . But Danissa, Jola, and Heron had to a one shivered when they mentioned that room the day before, and Gisela had not asked further questions at the time.
Even with the injured princess’s accusation, Gisela had found in herself only sympathy when outside. Once within the pavilion walls, and in particular within the large chamber where the other princesses and their partners were stretching and preparing for the day’s practice, all changed.
Nothing about this resembled where and how she’d learned to dance as a child, or an adult.
Gisela didn’t belong. It did not matter how kind and gracious the others might be as they trickled over in ones, twos, and threes to exchange polite greetings.
“Are you all right?” Stevan whispered in her ear, after Danissa went off to greet an older sire whom she much resembled. “If I had known Princess Ylena might—“
“It’s not that, not her. I don’t belong here. I’m nothing like any of the others.”
He took time to consider her words. His mouth opened and shut, and he glanced around. Then his lips quirked to the side in a half smile.