Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Tabitha’s poise did not fail her, but it came close. She held her curtsey rock-still, grinding her teeth together behind her veil. She heard her father say, “She is resilient, your Majesty. That and her other qualities give me an excess of pride in her. If I may bring her forward?”

  Tabitha did not move until she sensed that her father had reached out his hand for her to take. She was proud of herself for how steadily she rose to stand, considering how much her knees were trembling from the awkward position she had been holding, and considering how many people were watching her. When her father lifted her veil, he gave her a very quick nod before bringing her forward. She kept her eyes downcast as he spoke and guided her gloved hand to the king’s. “Your Majesty, allow me to present my daughter, Lady Tabitha de Betaul.”

  Tabitha raised her face to the king to find him looking her right in the eyes. Even though he sat on a throne two steps above her and would seem tall regardless, she could tell that he would stand even taller than her father. He had a handsome, sculpted face, and his beard was trimmed close. His thick blonde hair, though short, nearly obscured his golden crown. His light brown eyes held her gaze intensely, and it felt strangely repulsive, so much so that Tabitha had to look down. It felt like he had touched her, inside, like a splinter in her skin or the twinge of a muscle, and her spine wanted to shudder. Were all magi like this?

  “My lady.” The king took her hand from her father’s, and the press of his kiss on the back of her glove felt stronger and lasted longer than anyone had ever dared with her before. It took all her concentration not to flinch. Mistress Florain had warned her that the king would try to make her uncomfortable because she was a Betaul, but this was more than politics. There was a difference between making a lady feel uncomfortable and making a lady feel like prey. “You are very welcome to our court.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty.” She had intended to imitate her father’s inflection, but her words came out wooden, and even a little raspy because her throat was so dry.

  “My friend,” the king spoke to her father, but kept his eyes pinned to her, his hand clasped on her, “she is exquisite. Your silver eyes and golden hair, but clearly all else from her lovely mother. Dear Isabelle.”

  I favor my grandmother, Tabitha corrected him in her head. My Betaul grandmother.

  “My wife is smiling on her now,” Tabitha’s father said.

  “Indeed, she would be proud of this one. You did well to hide her.”

  “Hide, your Majesty?” her father said, now with a formality that stopped just short of mockery. “Not at all. She only came of age this past Derrosh.”

  “To the delight of all Thendalia. My lady.” The king kissed Tabitha’s hand again. “We look forward to knowing you better and enjoying your company.”

  Tabitha wished she dared withdraw her hand, and she knew by the tension in her father’s arm near her shoulder that he wanted to pull her away from the king. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

  “My queen.” The king at last released Tabitha’s hand so that he could gesture to his wife. “May I present the Jewel of Betaul.”

  The queen had a beautiful face, just very slightly plumped, like her figure. Her red gown was truly gorgeous, heavy with beads and embroidery that made even the traditional style look sumptuous and indulgent. Her crown was a confection of white lace, gold wire, and crystal, almost floating in her dark, curled hair. Tabitha bowed her head to her. “Your Majesty.”

  “Welcome, child.” The queen’s voice was mild. But when Tabitha met her dark eyes, she saw poison so toxic she felt it like a jab to her stomach. She knew the queen meant to offend her by calling her “child”, but she felt too intimidated to be offended. She knew that other women envied her beauty, but nobody had ever despised her so openly before. It took all her self-control to calmly reply, “Thank you, your Majesty.”

  “Your gown is simply adorable. Mistress Agnes’s work, is it?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “Adorable.” The queen flicked her eyes to Tabitha’s father. “Your Grace.”

  “Your Majesty.” He bowed over her extended hand and kissed it with proper courtesy. “As always, I am yours to command.”

  The queen blinked, and the venom in her eyes seemed a little less potent. “As always, your Grace.” Tabitha wished she knew what her father had truly told the queen with those words.

  “We hope your Majesties will visit Betaul this year. A good occasion just might arise.”

  My wedding. He is telling her that I am not a threat, that I will be married soon. Indeed, the queen’s expression softened further at these words, and although she did not smile, she said politely, “It just might.”

  The king laughed aloud. “Such a visit would be very entertaining, my friend. We look forward to receiving notice of a suitable occasion later in the year.” He actually winked at Tabitha before addressing her father with formality. “For today, we invite you to enjoy our hospitality.” He dipped his head in a gesture of dismissal.

  Tabitha and her father bowed their heads and took several careful steps backward. Mistress Florain had made Tabitha practice this as well. She took her father’s arm again, and like the Pravelles and the Jasinthes before them, they followed the diagonal line that kept them from showing their backs to the king and queen. They reached the colonnade, and Tabitha was finally out of the sun and out of sight.

  Ahead, just inside a niche concealed from view from the courtyard, two servants stood near a table with a silver bowl filled with ice, holding wine ewers and goblets. The servants bowed to them and offered filled goblets, but Tabitha’s father ignored them completely, never pausing in his steady pace. “‘Enjoy our hospitality’,” he sneered softly once they were out of earshot.

  “What is it?” Tabitha asked. She would not complain about her dry throat, but it was torture to know that she could have had wine and ice. They had only a few more paces in this lovely cool shade before they had to step back out into the courtyard and take their places in the sun.

  “It’s a phrase used with commoners. Nobles should be invited to ‘share our bounty’.”

  Tabitha had not caught that particular slight, but she did not want him to think she had missed them all. “I counted eight other direct insults.”

  “I counted twelve. Are you thirsty?”

  “A little,” she admitted, since he had asked.

  He pulled two tiny bottles from a pocket and gave her one. “It’s warm, but it will help.”

  It was watered wine. It was sour and, as he had said, warm, but it wet her mouth and throat. “Thank you.”

  “Can you stand still for a few more hours?”

  “Of course.” It occurred to her to wonder if he could. He was much older, after all, and if this day was tiring her, it had to be tiring him even more. But if it was, he did not show it.

  The sun shone brighter than ever ahead of them, and Tabitha replaced her veil before they stepped back into the courtyard. The Avieres were still at the dais with the king and queen, and Tabitha and her father resumed their places behind the Jasinthes. It was time once more to wait.

  After the Avieres came the counts, barons, and landed knights who were direct vassals of the king. Tabitha recognized their colors and emblems, but she could not remember more than a few of the names, since they were all from the eastern part of Thendalia. The words of the oaths of fealty and promises of protection were the same as for the dukes, but in most cases the king and queen spent less time chatting with these lords and ladies. It still took a long time for them all to come forward, and Tabitha had to distract herself by studying the ladies’ gowns as closely as she could, trying to guess if Mistress Agnes had made them. It was not easy to tell, though, since today’s ceremonies demanded that everyone dress in traditional, time-honored styles. It was at tomorrow’s feast and ball that the ladies’ gowns would display the designers’ new fashions.

  And new dancing slippers. Tabitha could not wait to get home and take off her shoes
. She dared to hope that it would happen soon. The rest of the nobles in attendance were all vassals of the Pravelle, Jasinthe, Betaul, or Aviere dukes instead of the king, which meant that they did not need to give oaths of fealty. They shuffled forward in a single line to take their turns being introduced to the king and queen, who accepted their bows and curtseys with smiles and nods but only rarely with words. Tabitha did not bother to face firmly forward anymore, instead turning her head slightly to watch the line and try to catch sight of her friends among all the full veils and heavy skirts. Lord Daniel headed a group of his brothers and cousins to represent the Tibault family, and Beatris went by with Count Sebastene. Pamela followed her older brother and his wife, who carried a little dog under her plump arm. Tabitha saw many more of her father’s vassals, all of whom bowed their heads to him as they passed, and he nodded back to each. He still did not seem tired or thirsty or in any other way uncomfortable.

  But, of course, he is. He just will not show it, and I will not either. The Betauls are strong.

  Tabitha paid scant attention to the short speech the king then made, and even less attention to the prayers to close the coronation. Her feet hurt, the sun was cooking her head, and her legs were exhausted. Dimly she heard the whole assemblage begin to recite the sign of the Godcircle, but she could only mouth the words because her throat was so dry: “In the name of the Most Holy God, the name of Your Creation, the name of Your chosen people, and the name of the One who will come again. Let it be.” She traced the Godcircle over her heart and watched as the king and queen turned and walked regally into the palace.

  A collective sigh shuddered over the assembled nobles, and Tabitha could hear and feel it as much as she had heard and felt the tolling of the bells. Royal servants in red livery emerged from the colonnade with chairs and wine. While many ladies and some elderly lords sat gratefully down, most of the Pravelles and Jasinthes headed toward the palace doors where the king and queen had gone. Tabitha’s father led her the other way, toward the back of the courtyard and the stairs up to the long drive where their carriage waited. The crowd made way for them with polite bows and nods, and when a servant offered Tabitha a goblet, she accepted it without looking at her father. She had to hold her veil away from her face as she sipped, but the chilled and watered wine tasted perfect. She felt better by the time she handed the goblet back.

  They reached the broad stairs at the back of the enormous courtyard. Tabitha glanced around for Pamela and Lord Daniel but did not see them, and asked her father if they should wait.

  “Lord Daniel is finding out some things for me,” her father said. “We will send the carriage back for them.” He started up the stairs.

  Tabitha wanted to ask what those things were, but climbing the stairs was sending dull, tired pain through all the muscles of her legs and back. She wondered how she would have felt if they had had to start the morning by walking the funeral procession. “Is Lord Daniel finding out why the funeral procession was cancelled?” she asked once they had reached the top and she saw no one close enough to hear them.

  “That, and other things.”

  He seemed to need to pause to catch his breath, so Tabitha looked down into the courtyard to watch the milling nobles. She caught sight of Beatris and Count Sebastene talking with Lord and Lady Renaud, which reminded her of the evening to come. “When will everyone arrive tonight?” They were hosting supper for her father’s vassals, one of the many private parties in the city to celebrate the coronation before the royal feast and ball tomorrow.

  “Sundown.” Her father sounded better. “You will have time to rest and recover.”

  She nodded. “It was a very long ceremony.”

  “It was. But you did well.” When she looked up at him, he actually smiled at her. “I could not have asked for better.”

  “It was a very special occasion,” she said. It explained both her perfect comportment and his rare compliment.

  “You made an excellent impression.”

  Tabitha hesitated, then said, “I did not make a good impression on the queen.”

  “That was because you made too good an impression on the king,” he growled. At the look on her face, his voice softened. “It was not your fault. But you need to be careful around him.”

  “Yes, Father.” Of course she would be careful.

  He looked down at the crowd, and when he spoke, his voice was low, though she could not imagine anyone could hear them. “Motthias has always had a strong effect on women. It has led him to believe that his attentions are always welcome.”

  Tabitha wrinkled her nose. “He makes my skin crawl.”

  Her father let out a short, surprised laugh. “That will never occur to him. In any event, watch yourself around him, and especially watch what you say.”

  “But I always watch what I say.”

  “With him, be even more watchful than usual. He is the king and he is a magus. He may choose to take an idle comment of yours as a promise or an insult, and he would enjoy making it difficult for me to extricate you.”

  Her throat was dry again. “I will be very careful, Father.”

  “Good.” He looked down at her. “I do want you to enjoy yourself while we are here, Tabitha. I know you will want to go to the theaters and see the tournaments and dance at the balls.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “But this is not just about fun. Our most important task is to decide who you will marry. The king might try to interfere with that, so we must always be aware of everything around us.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I will.” She looked over the crowd of lords and ladies filling the courtyard. The man she would marry was somewhere down there. Was he still on his feet, or had he taken a chair? Was he already planning his courtship of the Jewel of Betaul, or was he only barely aware of her existence?

  Her father turned, and she put her hand on his arm and let him lead her away.

  Overnight, the palace courtyard had been transformed into an enormous banqueting hall. Pamela made a childish noise of delight at the scene spread before them from the top of the broad stairs, and Tabitha was too impressed to shush her. Harp music filled the air. Long runs of white cloth crisscrossed overhead to shade out the noon sun without completely blocking the blue sky. The tables in the courtyard were arranged in the four rings of the Godcircle, with different colored tablecloths for each ring. The innermost circle was red, the next was purple, and then green, and finally brown, with all the circles meeting at the white-draped high table on the dais against the palace’s enormous curtain wall, where the ceremony had been yesterday. Cloth-of-gold bunting draped the length of both colonnades, matching the wraps on all the chairs. Flowers floated in bowls of water on every table in colors matching the tablecloths. Servants still moved among the tables, straightening chairs and setting out goblets and spoons.

  “A thousand people could sit here,” Pamela breathed.

  “There were more than a thousand people here yesterday,” Tabitha reminded her.

  “But not sitting. Not eating.” Pamela suddenly tilted her head. “There is no blue.”

  “What do you mean?” Lord Daniel asked her as he and Tabitha’s father caught up with them.

  “The tables, the rings.”

  Tabitha looked at her father, who only shook his head. Yes, it was another insult, to not include Betaul blue among the Pravelle red, Jasinthe purple, and Aviere green. Brown was a traditional way to represent the outermost ring of the Godcircle when it was not depicted entirely in gold, but in that traditional depiction, blue was used in the second ring.

  “Look at the bird cages!” Pamela exclaimed. The high table near the castle wall was lined with small trees and large cages, and some of the birds were big enough for Tabitha to see from here. Some couples and families were strolling along the line of the high table, admiring the birds, and some little dogs on leashes were barking at them and making them flutter. Pamela led Tabitha and the others that way along the colonnade, and Lise and some of
the mansion servants followed them, murmuring together at the opulence. The servants would not be dining here, of course, but they would be helping to serve the Betauls during the feast and would likely nibble the leftovers as they went back and forth from the palace kitchen.

  Beatris and Count Sebastene were among the people looking at the birds, and as the rest of them traded greetings, Pamela hugged Beatris as if it had been a year since she had seen her instead of only last night. Count Sebastene smiled at the sight.

  “Such a lovely day,” Tabitha said to Beatris.

  “Too warm,” Beatris returned, waving her silk fan at her face, which was flushed. She was wearing a sky-blue gown with gold lace trim, and her white hat, like Tabitha’s, had a fashionably wide brim and trails of silk flowers and ribbons down the back. Maybe Tabitha had seen Beatris in her nightgown and all her everyday clothes far too often, but Beatris always seemed to look nice now that she was married. Still homely, but nice.

  Count Sebastene looked neat and tidy in brown and blue, but seeing him next to Beatris was just as strange as it had been at their engagement, at their wedding, and all during this week. The two of them just did not match. He was so much older, more than twenty years older, and he looked almost foreign with that bald head and beardless face. Beatris was no beauty, of course, but at least she looked normal. Except she was too tall, a finger’s-width taller than Count Sebastene. Tabitha did not know if that bothered Beatris or not, but it bothered her.

  “That’s a pretty detail on your sleeve,” Beatris said, and Tabitha held up her arm to allow her to inspect the silk flowers sewn as buttons from wrist to elbow, then trailing off the sleeve in an imitation of a dagged cut, echoing without replicating the extra-long outer sleeves of a more traditional gown.

  “And look at the ruffle at the hem!” Pamela said. “Mistress Agnes means to make Tabitha the new center of fashion.”

  “But, of course, that honor belongs to the queen,” Tabitha correctly protested.