Beneath the Veil

by Megan Hart

  I put my hands on his forearms to push him away, but he held me fast. "If she doesn't speak, how can she choose this?"

  Galya moved closer and put a hand on my shoulder. "She rises in the morn from her bed, often just as the sun is rising. She goes to the armoire and the drawers, and she pulls out what she's going to wear. I help her bathe. I help her dress. Then she goes to that chair and she sits there for the entire day, until the sun sets. Then she gets up and waits for me to undress her, put her in her nightgown, and she goes to sleep."

  "But what else have you offered?" I sounded desperate, slightly hysterical. "Maybe if you gave her a choice, gave her some clothes that made her feel normal--"

  "She screams." Galya's voice was flat. "It's the only time she makes a noise while awake, though she sometimes screams at night, too. We tried to dress her in clothes like what you've got on. She fought us. You have to believe me, Aeris, she chooses this way."

  "Surely you must see that the clothes are like those Dae would choose for herself. They are garments fit for her station. She is well-cared for. Don't denigrate Galya's efforts. She's done a fine job with Daelyn."

  "She's done my job," I whispered. I turned back to Dae and knelt again. "I should have been here for her. I should have done these things. Those are my tasks. I've failed you, Dae. I'm so sorry, my prince."

  Galya knelt beside me, her pretty face furrowed with concern. "I did it when you couldn't. I did it because I love her. I love her as much as you do. It's been my honor and pleasure to attend to our prince in her time of need."

  She reached for my hand, and I let her take it. "I know, Galya."

  Tears brimmed in her blue eyes. "In Alyria I wouldn't have been allowed to do this for her. I'm glad to have the chance."

  "And you've done much for her, and for us," said Lir.

  Galya nodded and looked up at Daelyn, then rose and kissed the prince's cheek. There was an affection there I couldn't miss as she smoothed Dae's cheek, then turned to look at me with shining eyes.

  "I would have carried a child for her. I can't do less than to care for her now."

  I got to my feet as well and tried to smile, though in sooth it hurt my face to do so. "I've been replaced."

  Galya shook her head. "No."

  I nodded. "Yes. I have. And I can't argue the choice. You've done well by Daelyn, Galya. We shouldn't fight over who loves her better." I stepped back. "But now I have no place. What am I to do?"

  I left the room without waiting for the answer.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  For almost the whole of one year my sole purpose had been to care for Daelyn. Now I felt lost, adrift. I'd been thrown into an entirely new world, one in which I had no direction. I made my way through the corridors of Carinda's palace until I found a small side door that led into an enclosed courtyard.

  I found a spot on the grass and began to move through the positions of the Art. They came with difficulty at first. My body ached and stung in places, though my heart ached far more. As I warmed up, the Art flowed more easily. I didn't have to think. I only had to move.

  Soon I was sweating in the warm air. I took off my vest and worked in my shirt. I dipped and swirled, my hands making the patterns in the air, and as they did, I calmed.

  "Very nice."

  I had come to a stop, and I looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice. I recognized the face to whom it belonged, however, and went to one knee. "Your Majesty."

  Carinda clucked her tongue and motioned impatiently. "Rise you up, Aeris Delaya. When it's only us in the garden I need no such formalities."

  She looked so much like Daelyn it hurt to look at her. "As you wish."

  She smiled. "My sibling has trained you well. Fetchencarry, isn't that what you were called?"

  "Not any more."

  "Ah." Carinda nodded. "You've been supplanted."

  I nodded. I put my vest back on and ran a hand through my sweat-spiked hair. "Daelyn is in capable hands."

  "But not your hands." The queen of Elitan sat on the bench by the fountain and spread out her skirts. She lifted her face to the warm sun streaming through glass.

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It matters to you. I can see that quite clearly."

  I stood stiffly, uncertain how to behave with her. "I don't like seeing him...her this way."

  "None of us do." She cracked open one eye to look at me. "Should I find another position for you? Do you seek service? I'm certain there are lords or ladies in my court who could use an accomplished body servant."

  The thought made my stomach tighten. "I plead your mercy, Your Majesty, but if I'm not to serve Daelyn, I don't wish to serve anyone."

  She laughed, a sound that matched the tinkling of the water fountain. "No. I didn't think so. Have you thought that perhaps your fate is not to serve another, after all? Have you thought about what you might like to do, instead?"

  "A long time ago, I thought I might like to open a fight school." That idea seemed ridiculous now.

  "So why don't you?"

  I looked around the garden. "I don't know anything about your country. I have no money. I have no resources."

  "You are beloved of my sibling. Because of that, you are as a sibling to me. Don't you understand that?" She sounded curious.

  The idea I could be a sibling to a monarch seemed even more ridiculous. I was even able to laugh. "I can't be."

  "But you are. Do you think I would have ridden myself to help save you, only to let you founder in Elitan?"

  "I don't know."

  Carinda narrowed her eyes and looked me up and down. "Lord Akean tells me you are quite a fighter. I believe him. If you choose to start a fight school, there is naught to stop you but your own stubbornness. And, Aeris, it might be possible that Elitan is in need of a fight master."

  "Lir is better suited to it than I."

  She gave another tinkling laugh. "Possibly true. It was my thought you'd be best working together."

  "Don't you have a fight master here? What about Gerard?"

  She looked thoughtful. "Gerard is truly a master. But Elitan is a small country. Smaller even than Alyria. We've not had much need for fighting. Until now."

  "What has changed?"

  "Alyria is my sister's country. She belongs on its throne. Men like Rosten have no place in power. There can be no question that we need to fight him for control of Alyria."

  She smiled, and all at once she no longer looked so much like Daelyn. She looked like Carinda, and I found it hard to believe I'd ever thought them so much alike.

  "So, will you help me raise an army?"

  "I'm not sure I'm the best person for the task, Your Majesty. You might lose, and badly."

  She gave me her hand, and I kissed her ring. "On the contrary, Aeris Delaya, I expect to win. And greatly."

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Against my better judgment I accepted Carinda's invitation to her parlor social. I didn't want to, but an invitation from a queen, no matter how elegantly offered, is always more of a command than a suggestion.

  When I protested I had nothing suitable to wear to such a gathering, Carinda had replied, "I'll send someone to fit you."

  I bathed and put on a robe while I waited for the tailor to come. Lir had not returned to our chambers, and I tried not to think of where he might be...or with whom. When the knock came at the door, I opened it to find a small, lean woman dressed from head to foot in black. A cheroot hung from the side of her mouth and wreathed her head in fragrant smoke. She squinted through it, looked me up and down and sighed heavily.

  "By Kedalya's Womb, what am I supposed to do with this?"

  Stung, I stepped back. "I'm sure I don't know."

  Her laugh was hoarse. She pushed past me and snapped her fingers to the three young men attending her. I watched, fascinated, as she ordered them about, telling one to position the rolling rack of garments in one corner and snapping at another to push the large trunk on wheels to the other side.
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br />   "I'm not here to pull your ears. The queen sent me to dress you for tonight, and that's what I'll do. Richard! Francis! Bring me an underpetticoat, an overpetticoat, and a chemise!"

  Richard and Francis bustled to do as she commanded, while the woman peered at them closely and waved them away. "Too large. Bring smaller."

  She stared back at me. "You've got no tits and very little hip. 'Twill be no easy feat to make you look like a woman. Especially with that hair! Kedalya's Womb, what a mess!"

  I retreated further, my face tightening with anger. "Maybe you should forget such a hopeless task."

  "And risk the queen's wrath? I don't think so. You'll be dressed for tonight, as fine as I can make you." She clutched at my robe and made to strip it from me. "Madame Zillah can make even the dumpiest flower bloom. Don't you worry. You'll entice every man you meet."

  I yanked the cloth from her hands. "I'm not a flower, and I don't want to entice anyone. I'll wear my old clothes. You can go."

  She spoke over her shoulder at Richard or Francis, I wasn't sure which one was which. "Bring me the sunset gown. This one's fiery enough to wear it."

  The young man unhooked a hanger from the rolling rack and brought it to us. All I could see was a pile of vibrant orange and yellow cloth. He held it up like he was offering me gold coins.

  "Put these on first," Madame Zillah instructed and handed me the undergarments.

  I made to take them into the privy chamber, but she stopped me. "Here will be fine."

  I looked at her and then at her assistants. "I don't undress in front of strangers." I barely undressed in front of friends.

  She sniffed. "Richard and Francis couldn't care less what you look like in your skin. They've seen it all before, and so have I. You don't have anything different than any other woman we've dressed here, and believe me, we've dressed most of them."

  I lifted my chin and shrugged out of the robe. Cool air caressed my naked flesh. My nipples pebbled into points even as heat flared in my cheeks and spread to the rest of me.

  Madame Zillah's eyes lit up. "Not as bad as I expected, eh boys? What can you do with this, Richard?"

  The taller of the assistants bustled over. To my utter amazement, he reached out and cupped my breasts, one in each hand, and made as though he were weighing them. I gasped and stepped back, the fever in my cheeks becoming an inferno. "Sirrah!"

  Richard took no notice of my affront. "Put her in the right bodice, Madame, and those peaches will become melons."

  I covered myself with my hands. "I'm not made out of fruit!"

  "Look, my underestimated love," Madame Zillah said. "I know you're not used to those bumps on your chest being something to celebrate. Let us do our job."

  Francis stepped forward and touched my posterior. "She's got a nice rounded rear, Madame. Very muscular. 'Twould be a shame to hide it with panniers. I think a sleeker line for her would be best."

  "Very good, Francis. Lose the panniers. Lower the bust. Tighten the silhouette. And I've got it! Split the skirt!"

  Richard and Francis had gasped as though she'd suggested they burn the gown altogether. "Split the skirt!"

  Zillah nodded and lit another cheroot. "She's used to wearing pants, like a man. Split the skirt so she doesn't embarrass herself at the parlor social by striding in and showing the world her skivvies when she sits."

  By the time they'd finished, I didn't recognize myself. They'd tailored the full-skirted dress to match the slight curve of my hips, and sewed the skirt into two wide legs that still appeared to be a dress but gave me the functionality of trousers. They'd strapped my breasts into a tight bodice that shoved them up and out, and made them look far larger than they ever had. Richard placed a velvet band in the ruins of my hair.

  I touched my cheeks, my chest, my waist. Madame Zillah came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. She grinned and blew a cloud of smoke in my face.

  "Magnificent, isn't it?"

  For a moment I couldn't answer. I knew she wanted me to say yes, that I loved what they had turned me into. I couldn't. I didn't know the person in the mirror. I ran a hand up the dress and touched my hair. My throat had closed, and I could not speak.

  "Well?" Zillah prompted with a nudge to my shoulder.

  "I don't look like myself."

  "That's the point, lovey."

  I shook my head again and turned from the mirror. "I feel ridiculous."

  "But you look gorgeous. Believe me."

  "People in Elitan say that a lot," I told her. "Believe me. As though I should fear you were lying to me."

  She shrugged. "What's the point of lying?"

  "Exactly." I gave myself another quick glance in the mirror. "I don't like any of this."

  Zillah looked affronted, and Richard and Francis made tutting noises. They busied themselves with packing up the remnants of what they'd brought for me. I watched them without speaking. Madame Zillah didn't offer me any more advice. She barely looked at me as she ordered her assistants around and oversaw their work. When they'd finished their packing, the three of them left with a slam of the door.

  I took a deep breath. This was the attire expected of me. Carinda had requested my presence at her parlor social. It would be rude of me not to attend appropriately. Even I knew better than that.

  I navigated my careful way through the halls and corridors to Carinda's parlor. It wasn't her private parlor, of course. The social wasn't that intimate of a gathering. The parlor was the size of Daelyn's court in Alyria, but instead of gaming tables and a raised dais, there were soft couches, small tables laden with refreshments, and a pianoforte at which a young woman sat and sang.

  I paused in the doorway to take in the pure, clear sound of her voice. The last song I'd heard from a woman was a cradlesong my mother had sung to me when I still wore clouts. Listening to this woman was like hearing the song of spring's first bird after a long, cold winter.

  I realized I was blocking the door, and moved inside. I gained quite a few curious looks as I moved through the crowd, and it took me a while to figure out it was because of my gown. Women shielded their mouths behind fans to comment on it, though I could hear most of their words as clearly as though they spoke directly in my ear.

  Compared to what the other women were wearing, my outfit seemed incredibly plain. The sleek lines were out of place next to the ruffles, lace and jewels, the wide, belled skirts and flowing sleeves. Nor did it resemble the men's fashion, which was as fancy but far less varied.

  "Her Majesty's sister's servant," I heard one woman whisper. She sounded deliciously thrilled with the idea that a servant could attend a parlor social.

  I moved past her, awkward and unused to moving with so many layers of cloth hanging from me. The weight of the skirts alone made me feel like I was walking under water. My feet, so used to heavy boots, seemed to float in the soft slippers, and I understood now what allowed the follies to move so silently. I moved silently, but not gracefully, and the whispering woman giggled as I stepped on my hem and lurched forward.

  I lifted my chin and ignored her. I searched the crowd for a friendly face, or at least a familiar one, and found only strangers. Laughing or staring strangers, some shaking their heads and clucking sympathetically.

  I made my way to the wall and grabbed up a cut-class goblet of some sort of punch. I swigged it down, and the taste of out-of-season fruit assailed my mouth before the biting sting of liquor numbed it. I took another, heedless of what it might do to me.

  Gradually, conversation resumed around me, and though there were still quite a few curious looks, the longer I stayed quietly against the wall, the fewer people paid attention to me.

  The punch had lit a fire in my belly and warmed me. I relaxed a little. I had been invited here, after all, by the queen herself. I wasn't out of place, even if my clothes were.

  From across the room, I caught a flash of familiar dark hair, a welcome gait, a blessedly lovely face. I stood up straight as my heart leaped. Lir.

&n
bsp; He moved among the men with casual camaraderie and gave each woman who stepped into his path a brief greeting that left most of them fluttering their fans against suddenly pink cheeks. He moved like a man thoroughly at ease with himself, and I envied him that ease as I had always done. In my unfashionable outfit and laughable occupation, I would never fit in here. But Lir did.

  I didn't realize how far away from the wall I'd stepped until I saw his face turn toward me and his eyes light. At least I had that, I thought with sudden joy. No matter how out of place I was, I had Lir's heart. What, exactly, I meant to do with it, I wasn't sure, but knowing I had a friend in the room made me feel all at once better.