by CJ Brightley
“Be glad I remembered to open the windows,” Lala shouted across the massive room, her voice echoing across the bare walls. “Most apprentices forget and fall unconscious their first time doing this.”
“Right,” I muttered, shivering. For some reason, it also felt cold in here.
“You can come in now!” Lala shouted at the front door, now far distant. “We need tables, chairs, and decorations!”
The front door opened, and a pair of vassal men struggled in, hefting a heavy table between them. Another held out a hand behind them to keep the door open, and they were followed by a woman with the back of a chair under each arm, legs whacking against the doorway as she squeezed through.
Another woman came next, depositing a large rock by the door. Then came a flood of vassals with more chairs, two more men carrying a heavy table, and a slew of children with armloads of wildflower decorations. Mother had asked the vassal families to make as many as they could last night, and apparently they’d made quite a few.
As people continued to pour in and out, carrying in furniture or squeezing past those who were, I heard the kitchen door slam. I glanced over to see Yaika standing in the doorway, balancing three trays of fruit slices arranged in complicated patterns.
“I’m not doing any more digging,” she said defensively. “I found two men who were willing to do it for me. I don’t want to have tired arms before I even start my party.”
That seemed valid, actually.
“I won’t tattle to Mother,” I said. “Are those for the Rulers’ heirs?”
“Yeah,” Yaika said, carefully stepping up the stairs to not upset their precarious balance. “Grandmother handed them to me.”
“I’ll help,” I said, sliding up from my seat and catching one from her arm that looked like it was about to fall. “Which ones do you want to deliver those to?”
“The cute man and the first heir,” Yaika said promptly. “I’m jealous that you got to take food to the Ruler already!”
“Yes, lucky me,” I said dryly.
Yaika reached the top of the stairs first, and she turned right to knock on the first door beside our parents’ room. It was usually empty, but the Ruler’s male heir had claimed it last night.
I’d been initially worried because we had only three bedrooms on the female side of the house, so one of the female heirs was bound to be offended that she would have to sleep on the male side. But apparently the custom of left for girls and right for boys wasn’t observed in Central, because the first heir had taken the last room on the right without a fuss.
I turned left and knocked on the first door. Mine was in the middle and Yaika’s was last, and it felt odd to knock on the door of a room that was usually just used for storage. I wondered what one said to a Ruler’s heir in the morning. Hello, would you like some fruit?
The door opened, and a groggy girl with her hair in curlers stared out at me. “Yesss?” she asked blearily.
“Um,” I said, hefting my tray. “I brought breakfast.”
“Great. Leave it by the door.” She slammed the door in my face.
Nonplussed, I set the tray down. I glanced across the hallway to see how Yaika was faring. The male heir had opened his door, and she was beaming in the way that made her whole face glow like brilliant sunlight.
“I brought you breakfast,” she said.
The man looked pleased. “Thank you,” he said, taking the tray from her. Yaika watched him with eyes wide with adoration until the door shut again.
“Laying it on a bit thick, weren’t you?” I murmured in her ear, sidling up to her as she headed down the hallway.
Yaika aloofly pretended to ignore me.
“Gonna pretend to worship the first heir, too?” I asked.
Yaika spun around and glared at me. “For your information,” she whispered indignantly, “I was not pretending anything. He’s very handsome and a Ruler’s heir, and I would love it if he courts me. So there.”
“You’re twelve,” I said. “He looks, what? Twenty?”
“Get him to court you, then,” Yaika said. “That would be almost as good for our family.”
I rubbed my temples. Right. Because the attention of a Ruler’s heir is exactly what someone with illegal magic needs.
“I don’t think so,” I said instead.
“See, this is why you’re not married yet,” Yaika snorted. “You need to learn to flirt better.”
I glared at her, offended.
Yaika spun and knocked on the door of the first heir. It didn’t open. She knocked louder. Still no response. She stood there for a moment, pouting like she’d tasted some of that unsweetened tartberry sauce downstairs. Then she set the tray by the door and backed away, alternating hopeful and disappointed expressions.
“Lost your chance to suck up?” I asked.
Yaika glared at me. “If you don’t want to impress the Ruler’s heirs, you’re stupid,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
Okay, she had a point there.
From downstairs, I heard Mother’s voice echoing. “Yes, that table goes there — no, don’t put those chairs there, we want that corner empty for dancing. Where are the centerpieces? Did we finish making the centerpieces? Who’s not making themselves useful currently?”
“Quick,” Yaika hissed, grabbing my arm. “Let’s start getting dressed, before Mother conscripts us to do other things.”
For once, we were in agreement. I nodded, and we both fled down the hallway.
I’d already picked out my dark green skirts with the orange-gold embroidery, plus my pale cream bodice with green and orange pleats in the sleeves. I also had a set of fluffy black underskirts I rarely wore that seemed perfect for the occasion. But I flipped through all the contents of my closet and drawers as if I were still deciding, anyway, pondering how complicated a hairstyle I could get away with. The longer I took getting ready, the fewer last-minute tasks Mother could heap on me.
Apparently Yaika had the same idea, because she emerged even later than me.
The guests were starting to arrive as I made my way downstairs, hair piled high above my head and only a tiny tonna-berry-husk-and-shakeleaf-spine signature pinned to my sleeve. With no flowers anywhere else on my body, I felt bare. That showed I had no suitor to escort me, which was embarrassing.
Still, I reminded myself, showing that off is a good thing. Hopefully some handsome heir or heirs I’d never met before would get the hint of my availability.
Unfortunately, almost everybody to arrive first were the vassals. Even with Grandmother stationed outside, giving a very loud abbreviated lecture about manners before letting a group through the front door, hordes of unfamiliar faces poured in, and I found myself barely navigating a crowd of vassals as I squeezed my way across the stairs to the kitchen door.
“Need help carrying trays out?” I asked Grandfather, who was stirring red and sticky bubbling sauce over the fireplace.
“Yes, please,” he said, wiping his forehead with his white, greying sleeve. “I have apparently been volunteered for kitchen duty.”
“I know the feeling,” I said, scooping up a cold metal tray covered in pastries. “Are you going to be okay in here?”
“I’m a perfectly competent cook,” he said, waving me out. “I just don’t love doing it. Tell that son of mine we should have gone with simpler food.”
“Tell your wife,” I said, ducking out of the kitchen and into a mob of people. Many of them grabbed the pastries from my platter as I passed them, not even waiting for me to set it down. I was highly annoyed.
I squeezed back toward the kitchen, and actually had to stop a vassal I didn’t know from following me.
“This is off-limits,” I said politely. “It’s the kitchen.”
“That’s permissible to enter,” the busybody woman my mother’s age said bossily. “I’ve been in landowner houses before. It’s the taste room.”
“Well, this is a coming-of-age party, not an art exhibition, and it’s off-limits n
ow,” I said.
The woman snatched a chip off my status, looking angry.
I clenched my fists in fury. Magic burbled and slurped into my skirts. That just made me more furious.
“Donfar!” I shouted, recognizing someone from our land. “Come here for a moment!”
A burly vassal glanced in my direction and lumbered over. He was huge and usually gentle, but he didn’t like belligerence. I’d seen him discipline unruly children by lifting them up off the ground by the back of their shirts.
“Yes?” he asked in his rumbling voice.
“Would you see to it that this woman is escorted away from our land?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. “She is being very rude. She is not welcome to return.”
The stranger whipped a huge chunk of status away from me. I lashed it right back.
“Please,” I said to Donfar.
“Sure,” he said. He whistled loudly and gestured to a friend, another vassal of ours whose name I didn’t remember. The two of them pushed their way through the crowd with the woman in front of them. I watched as they disappeared into the teeming mass of people, and breathed a sigh of relief.
When will the musicians arrive? I wondered. How much longer until the Ruler makes her grand entrance downstairs? Because I had no doubt it was going to be grand.
I glanced down at my outer skirt and suppressed a groan. There were white splotches where my fists had been. So that was what the magic had done! Well, it might have been worse; it just looked like a laundry mistake. Still, I couldn’t stay downstairs looking like this. Not if I planned to go up to the high seats at any point today.
Speaking of which . . .
I glanced up to the platform where my parents were both sitting. They smiled and waved at strangers, their status rising slowly as people sent small pinches to them. I was relieved to see even the vassals seemed to understand that this was customary; perhaps it was just common sense, or perhaps Grandmother had made a point of informing them.
Thank goodness, I thought. Maybe we won’t wind up in dire straits after using a week’s worth of magic and a month’s worth of food today. I’d been really worried about it. There was only so much you wanted to spend on a social event, generally, and I’d noticed Grandfather scribbling and looking very tense this morning.
I waited until my parents were both waving to people on the other side of the room, then I ducked through the crowd to get to the stairs. With one last glance in their direction, I dashed up the stairs to my room. I knew Father’s eyebrows would raise, and Mother would glare in disapproval, if they noticed I was going back upstairs. But I couldn’t very well explain to them why I needed to change my clothes urgently.
In the hallway, I ran into Yaika.
“Are the musicians here?” she asked breathlessly. “I asked them to play a fanfare when I came down the stairs.”
Of course you did, I thought.
“They’re not here yet,” I said. “And neither are any of your friends, that I saw. It’s mostly vassals down there.”
Yaika pouted and brushed at her stiff, blue skirts. They were burrun, which wasn’t usually shiny, but she’d done something to make them glitter as the light hit them. I wondered if it had something to do with the weave, or if she’d mixed silverbush sap into the dye or something. When she spun to dance, it’d be dazzling.
“Do you want me to find the musicians and remind them?” I asked.
“Yes,” Yaika said, looking relieved. “They’ve got to be down there, right? They’re probably just setting up now.”
“Probably,” I said. I turned to head back downstairs.
“Wait!” Yaika cried. “Should I go down now? Or should I wait till after the Ruler’s gone down?”
I honestly have no opinion, I wanted to say. But that didn’t seem very helpful to Yaika. So I turned back around to face her and forced myself to think hard.
“If you go before the Ruler, you might get more attention,” I said slowly. “Because everyone will be watching her. If you go before, though, the Ruler will miss your entrance.”
Yaika nodded. “So, after.”
I pursed my lips, pondering. Was that really the right answer?
“Except a lot of vassals might leave as soon as they’ve seen the Ruler.” Especially if they’ve eaten all of our refreshments, I wanted to grouse. “So you might have a lot fewer people to impress, all of them already more impressed by the Ruler and her heirs.”
Yaika flinched. “Before, then.”
“But then, the landowners more likely to give lots of status might be in a better mood with fewer vassals crowding them,” I continued, twisting the ribbon at the edge of my sleeve around and around. “And then there’s the fact that —”
“Stop, stop, stop!” Yaika cried. “You’re not being helpful!”
Well, I was trying to be, I thought with annoyance. What did you want me to say?
“I think I’m going after,” Yaika said, jutting out her chin. “Tell the musicians that’s when to expect me.”
“Right,” I said, turning to go downstairs again. I reached out to grab the banister.
Behind me, Yaika squeaked with horror. “What happened to your skirts?!”
Oh! I gulped and looked down. I’d shifted my arm enough to show one of the white spots I’d been hiding. Right. That was why I came up here.
“Um . . .” I said, trying to think of a good explanation.
“How could you not notice that when you put the skirt on?” Yaika moaned. “Come on, Raneh! Don’t embarrass me!”
“It must’ve been a laundry mistake,” I said with relief. “Right. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“Go to your room!” Yaika glared, jabbing her finger down the hallway. “Get changed right now!”
I ran for my room, trying not to snort with laughter at her fury. Did she really think she could just order me around? I was almost tempted to run back and tweak her ears, like I used to when she was being a brat years ago. Teach her that twelve was not as mature as she seemed to think.
But glancing back as I pushed the latch of my door revealed that Yaika was still standing there, looking indignant. So I straightened my face before I slipped inside my room, shut the door, collapsed on my bed, and burst into a fit of giggles, muffled by my pillow.
“I recommend your purple skirt with the green leaf trimming,” Yaika said bossily from beyond my door. “It’ll still go well with that bodice you’re wearing. And maybe you should also change your shoes, so that they’ll match the . . .”
I got up off my bed, still stifling laughter with my hand, and started pushing through the skirts hung in my closet. I unhooked the purple one and tossed it on my bed as one that I would definitely not be wearing, and stopped at a pale orange bodice with yellow-cream flowers all over it. I had tried to go with colors that would suit Yaika’s tastes, but forget that now. I’d just wear what I wanted to today.
I loosened the laces of the bodice I was wearing just enough to wriggle it off over my head — one of the few advantages of being skinny was that it wasn’t hard to get changed quickly. Girls with large chests probably had to unstring the laces entirely to remove the bodice like a jacket, which was what you were supposed to do really. But that was too much bother, so I usually kept all of mine perpetually laced up in my closet.
I straightened the white underblouse, which had gotten crooked, and tugged the pale orange bodice down over my head. The sleeves felt tighter around my forearms than I remembered, so I untied the yellow ribbons and tied them back again.
Still ignoring Yaika’s prattle, I sloughed off the green outer skirt and tossed it on my bed with the purple one. Cheerfully, I fluffed the matching yellow skirt off of its hook, admiring the orange-cream flowers painted all over it. I’d done those myself, when I was fourteen. I was quite proud of it.
The combination of the black underskirts and bright yellow overskirt looked kind of odd, but I didn’t mind it. So I tied the drawstrings on the inside of the
skirt band tightly, looped them into a bow, double-knotted it, and tucked the whole thing back into the waistband by my right hip.
Outside my room, Yaika was still going on about underskirts. Or, wait, no, she’d moved on to stockings. Something about how black stockings and black underskirts and black shoes were too much of the same color, and it would all look so much better if I’d wear these light blue stockings she’d dyed just the other week. Apparently I had an irrational prejudice against her favorite color, but if I would just try it occasionally . . .
I flung the door open and walked straight past Yaika. She stared at me in horror, her mouth gaping open.
“You can’t wear those underskirts with that outer skirt!” she squeaked.
“Yes, I can.” I walked straight for the stairway.
“Raneh, really!” Yaika chased after me. “Please!”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I said, stopping. I reached out and gave her ear a tweak. I couldn’t resist. “Remember?”
Yaika fumed and glared at me.
“Now, should I tell the musicians not to expect you until after the Ruler is already downstairs?” I asked innocently.
“Fine.” Yaika glowered at me. “But don’t blame me if you don’t get any status from this party.”
She whirled around, stormed back to her room, and slammed the door behind her. Jinny, the heir sleeping near us, opened her door. She squinted out into the hallway, wearing only a shift and stockings, her hair partially pulled up in a series of elaborate braids.
“Has the party started already?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Everybody’s wondering when the Ruler will be coming down.”
“It’ll be awhile,” Jinny said. Then she slammed the door.
I sighed and shook my head. This was going to be an extremely long day.
Then I descended back into the chaos of the party.
20
Vowing never again to accept a dance with a fourteen-year-old who clearly didn’t know what he was doing, I was taken by surprise when gasps and murmurs and a sudden break in music informed me that the Ruler was finally descending downstairs.