by CJ Brightley
I broke away from my partner, whose name I’d already forgotten, and followed the crowd in squeezing forward to watch the Ruler come down the stairs.
The Ruler, it seemed, was in no hurry. Each delicately slippered foot kissed the stair before she stepped down, showing off its shoe before her way-too-long skirt toppled forward and covered it. Her skirts, which seemed to be attached to her bodice in a style I’d never seen before, were made of pale cream wormthread, and were about a foot longer than she was. She wore her filias signature in a long arc from the top of her hair to the back of her skirt, and her bare arms and neck were draped in glinting jewelry. In short, she looked spectacular, and obviously incapable of doing anything like dancing.
The Ruler’s husband followed just as sedately, appearing at the top of the landing at the same time that his wife reached the bottom of the stairs. His clothes, if anything, were even less practical. He wore a long jacket that swept the ground behind him, and a gorgeous wormthread neck-sash that trailed well past his feet. As if that weren’t enough, he also wore a waist-sash with numerous tassels that fell even farther, just to make sure he had plenty of tripping hazards no matter which way he turned. His incredibly long hair was tied up in complicated loops all down his back, and the filias signature peeked from beneath it. I gaped at him, uncertain whether his outfit was stunning or ludicrous.
Next came the first heir, Alyss, whose clothes actually looked possible to walk in without tearing. The style was another type I had never seen, with rows of buttons all down the sides, and she wore a braided straw hat with filias signature on top, which was bizarre. Usually only vassals wore hats, and even then only when working outside to protect their faces from the hot sun. Not to mention that buttons belonged on children’s clothing. Or on flaps of pockets, to hold the contents in.
Jinny, the other female heir, came down next. She had apparently given up on the elaborate braids, because her hair was pulled up in a simple bun on top of her head. She wore three sets of outer skirts, all of them slashed, so that the colors showed through. They were red, extremely bright orange, and blue, and the garish clashing shades made me uneasy. Her yellow underskirts looked thick and heavy, and I wondered if she’d chosen poorly and would find herself sweating shortly.
Her filias signature was twisted over her wrist, and her other arm was covered in jangling metal jewelry. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the scent of very heavy perfume assailed me. I tried not to gag as she passed near me.
Then Caes, the male heir, appeared at the top of the stairs. My heart pounded in my throat as he turned the bend in the landing and came into full view. Okay, Yaika had a point: he was dreamy.
He was the only one of the Ruler’s family who was wearing normal clothing, but he made it look far more than ordinary. His slacks and blouse were black, cut in the middle with a silver waist-sash. He wore no jewelry, I smelled no perfume, and his only adornment was the small filias signature that was pinned to his left shoulder.
My skin flushed hot as he passed near me to follow his adoptive sisters to the high seats, and I looked away to distract myself. Where did they even get so many fresh filias? Not from my garden, that’s for certain. They must have brought those with them. Maybe they brought a bunch of packets of seeds, and had their magicians speed-grow them?
The musicians exploded in a fanfare, and I jumped. Then Yaika started to descend down the stairs.
She looked beautiful, of course. Not stunning, like the Ruler and her family, but lovely, like an approachable young girl should be. She floated down the stairs, smiling and waving with just the right amount of shy sweetness to make everyone around her melt. Giggling as a tall boy shouted his approval, she reached the bottom of the stairs and bowed slightly to everybody. Status roared towards her from throughout the approving crowd, and I watched with satisfaction as the air around her glimmered. When she looked up, even her face seemed to be glowing.
As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, the gangly boy leapt forward to ask her to dance, and Yaika bashfully accepted.
I wanted to guffaw — if only they knew how bashful my sister wasn’t — but I held back, with some effort. As Yaika and the tall boy reached the dance floor, the musicians broke in with an enthusiastic song that was . . . well . . . kind of annoying, actually, because it was much too lively for the sedate sweetness Yaika was feigning. But my sister somehow managed to break into a three-part hop without looking any the less delicate. I was rather impressed.
A landowner heir I sort of knew, a year younger than me, asked me onto the dance floor as I made my way towards it. I accepted, joining the crowd that swirled around Yaika.
I glanced up at the high seats to check on my parents, who were smiling and waving like the proper hosts they were. I thought about asking Grandfather how much their status had raised, and whether he thought this party would be worth it, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.
Besides, the last time I had asked him something like that, he’d answered in a string of jargon that made no sense to me.
The Ruler was watching the dance floor, and I wondered if she was regretting her terrible choice of clothing.
It’s not too late, I thought. You could go upstairs and put on different shoes, at least.
But she turned away and seemed to be engaging my parents in conversation. Her husband turned to watch the dance floor at exactly the same moment.
Odd, I thought.
My dancing partner, Rullah, swung me around, and I felt my skirts flare upwards, bright yellow and black spinning as only the inner layer of my underskirts clung against my legs. I glanced back at the high seats, and I saw that now Jinny was watching.
Now, that made me uneasy. I spent the next few dances with various partners glancing back up at the high seats, and the pattern continued. Every time one of them turned around, another would start looking. All the rest were doing other things, sometimes talking with each other, sometimes nodding to various people in the crowd who waved at them admiringly, but there was always one, and exactly one, with their eyes fastened on the dance floor.
Goosebumps crept up my arms. So were they watching Yaika — or me?
The current dance ended, and a handsome young man asked me for the next one. I begged out of it, claiming fatigue, and ducked over to the chairs by the wall nearest to the high seats. I pulled off one of my shoes and rubbed my ankle to support the pretense that my feet were tired, glancing up every so often to watch the Ruler and her family members.
The Ruler finished watching, and turned back to my parents. Caes turned at the same moment, fixing his eyes on the center of the dance floor. He frowned slightly, his gaze shifting around, until it settled to where Yaika had moved, near the musicians at the left of the room. A smug smile lit up his face. It looked almost . . . predatorial.
Please tell me he isn’t actually going to court her, I thought, shivering.
Realizing I hadn’t been doing anything with my foot for awhile, I pulled the shoe back on and started to relace it very slowly. One loop in the hook, one loop in the hook . . . I glanced back up to see Alyss taking her turn. Her expression looked appraising.
I swallowed and twisted the laces around to tie them at the back of my shoe. Then I started the pretense all over again with my other foot. The Ruler went next, and she also looked appraising. When her husband took the following turn, he showed no emotion whatsoever.
Jinny looked insanely jealous. She didn’t even seem to be trying to hide it. Intense hatred burned in her eyes as she watched my sister.
A funny feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.
They’re not evaluating our whole family, are they? I thought. They’re evaluating Yaika.
It could have been worse. It could have been me. But still, I wasn’t sure I liked this. What did they want with my sister, and what was going to happen once they were finished?
A breezy perfume settled near me, and I glanced over to see a family I didn’t know sitting by me. A bulgy woma
n dug an elbow into the back of a boy and whispered something at him while jerking her head at Yaika. A man on his other side kept glancing between him and my sister with a speculative gleam in his eye. Meanwhile, the boy was stuffing his face with a pastry and ignoring both of them.
I hid a giggle behind my hand. The boy reminded me of Hurik, which would definitely repel Yaika. Good luck getting my sister to dance with him.
My parents smiled and waved at me, and I tried to smile and wave back. Then I laced up the rest of my shoe and got to my feet, afraid I had called too much attention to myself.
Maybe the Ruler is up to something, and maybe she isn’t, I thought, heading back towards the dance floor. But there’s nothing I can do about it, and I can enjoy my sister’s party.
I got back to the dance floor, and immediately accepted the first dance that was offered to me. My partner was a short man who loved spinning whirlsteps, and by the time we finished, I was breathless and a little dizzy. But I plunged right into the next dance, and the next one, heedless of landowner or vassal, acquaintance or stranger. In a way, it was relaxing to attend a party without an escort to worry about.
Still, I kept my head enough to make sure to not to get too close to Yaika. If we came too near each other, our status would merge, and I didn’t want to rob her of her glory before the party had ended.
It was late at night, past midnight, when I finally crept downstairs and out through the kitchen door on the pretense, if anyone asked, that I was going to use the latrine. My foot fell on the squeaky spot near the kitchen doorway, and I froze, heart pounding. But nobody came forth demanding an explanation. Apparently Grandfather and Grandmother, who lived right between the stairs and kitchen, were fast asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed outside.
Under the waxing gibbous moon, there was plenty of light, so I made my way over to the front of the house with the gardens with ease. I flinched as my gate squeaked — I really need to get that fixed — but no faces appeared in the upper windows, including the first heir’s. So I breathed out and moved forward again.
Small beetle pollinators scurried away as I brushed past the inna tree, moving its long, draping strands out of my face. A hint of magic leapt out and zapped one of the insects, turning it from black to dark grey, and making its wings tiny. I sighed.
When I reached the large central expanse of my garden, I gratefully sank down into the dirt on my knees. Groverweed buzzed around me, as if it knew I was about to feed it. I reached out — and then I paused. I hesitated.
I still didn’t know whether groverweed was a danger, or if I was compounding the problem of magic dying. It wasn’t like I really had much of a choice, but . . . did I? Maybe I could try putting it somewhere else instead. Somewhere else, like . . . the filias. My eyes fell on a spiky flower near me. I never had many of those plants, and they were always in danger of being choked out by the overly vigorous groverweed. Maybe if I did something to make the filias more hardy . . .
Hands shaking, I reached out to touch the plant.
Yechhh!
I nearly wrenched my arm back. I could never understand why other people couldn’t tell the difference between them. Sure, groverweed and filias both had thick and waxy leaves, stiff stems, and tangly roots. But there was something about them that was just so . . . obviously different. Groverweed always felt so warm and welcoming. Touching filias felt nauseating.
Forcing myself to hold on, I shuddered, closed my eyes, and called up magic. I focused on hardiness and growing.
Bzzzap!
I yelped and leapt back. It was like static had shocked me. I stared at the innocent-looking little filias plant, appalled. Not only had it not grown one bit, I got the sense that it never would. Not this way, anyway.
I don’t get it! I thought wildly. Filias isn’t special! Any magician can affect it! How can I possibly not be able to use magic on filias when I can on groverweed?!
I nabbed a groverweed stem before I could think about it, and shoved my magic in. The leaves unfurled and buds swelled all over the place. I snapped the buds off, buried them, and moved on to the next plant. The same thing. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Nothing had changed.
But something had changed. I couldn’t stop the growing panic from tightening in my throat. I’d found yet another way in which my magic was different from anyone else’s.
How many would there wind up being?
Two days after the party, I was out in my garden, taking care of my regular plants, like I supposedly did every morning. I was cleaning out the inevitable spikeshoots from my adly vines’ roots, grumbling to myself about it, when I heard a rustle behind me.
“Your filias look in terrible shape,” a snooty voice drifted over from the direction of my gate. “You should have more flowers at this time of year. Are you sure they’re not overrun with groverweed?”
I jerked up quickly, and whacked my head on a low branch of my inna tree. I winced, rubbing my head as I straightened more carefully. The Ruler’s first heir was standing at my gate, looking like she was waiting for an answer.
“M-my sister picked a lot of those for her oath ceremony,” I stammered. Owww, my head! “I would normally have more. But they’re still growing back currently.”
“Ah,” Alyss said.
“Where’d you get all your filias, the day before yesterday?” I blurted out. “You had so many at the party.”
“Oh, we always bring those with us,” Alyss shrugged. “They preserve nicely.”
I knew it. “So the magicians make them blossom whenever you need them?”
“Simpler than that,” Alyss shrugged. “They make the blooms more durable, so they can last a few weeks without wilting. One of the Ruler’s large valises is filled with nothing but filias.”
Oh, wow, I thought. I’d never heard of anyone preserving flowers that way. The Ruler had ridiculous amounts of magic available at her disposal.
“So how do you like it here, with the Ruler?” I asked, changing the subject. “Er, should I call her your mother?”
“She’s not my mother,” Alyss said, pushing a stray strand of hair back into the bun at the back of her neck. “My parents live in Central. I see them every week.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit foolish. “You grew up in Central?”
“I grew up in the northwest. When the Ruler chose me, my parents and brother left their land and came to Central with me.”
“What’s Central like?” I asked curiously. I brushed the dirt off my hands as best as I could. The dark green stains from pulling spikeshoot leaves weren’t going anywhere until I scrubbed, though.
“Different,” Alyss shrugged. “Landowners and vassals are a moot point, since the Ruler owns the land directly. All the people there are called citizens.”
I mouthed the unfamiliar word. “What does that mean?”
“It means ‘city-dweller,’” Alyss said. “Essentially.”
“What’s it like being the first heir?” I blurted out. “Knowing you might be the Ruler someday?”
Alyss’s face became distant. “Everyone asks that question. The answer is . . . not like people expect. The competition is fierce. The Ruler and her husband change the heir rankings every month. I could be first heir one week, and fourth heir the next. If the Ruler were sick or old, the competition between top heirs would be even worse.”
I shuddered. “That sounds horrible.”
“Well, some people like competition,” Alyss said, looking mildly amused. “But keep in mind, I don’t have many expectations I will be the Ruler someday. The Ruler’s younger than my parents. Most likely I will want to marry long before she dies of old age.”
“Huh,” I said. I looked at the first heir, with her sharp, snobby chin, and I saw more of a normal person than I had expected.
“What about you?” Alyss asked. “Would you want to become a Ruler’s heir?”
“No,” I said immediately. “I can’t see why anyone would!”
Al
yss started laughing. “That’s not what I usually hear.”
“I don’t want to be a vassal, either,” I said hastily. “It’s not like I have no ambition. I want to be a landowner.”
Alyss smirked. “Well, your sister has a much better shot at that than you. Only four heirs in ten actually manage it, you know. You’ll probably fail.”
I glared at her.
“Nice garden, anyway,” Alyss said distantly, removing her polished fingernails from the top of my gate. She turned to move on. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“I’m not going to be a vassal!” I shouted at her back.
Alyss waved a hand behind her as if she really didn’t care, and otherwise ignored me.
“Peel the bulge tubers more carefully,” Grandmother insisted as I was helping her prepare for dinner, leaning over my shoulder. It was very uncomfortable to have her hovering right there. “You’re taking off too much of the inner rind. That’s where the nutrition is.”
I made a face and pushed the curved knife more carefully, trying to remove all of the bitter outer skin without damaging the sour yellow rind.
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said behind me. “Have you seen where Caes went?”
I turned my head, and nearly sliced my finger with the knife. “Ruler’s husband!” I gasped.
“C-Consort?” Grandmother asked, sounding startled herself. “No . . . I’m afraid I haven’t.”
The Ruler’s husband looked disappointed. He turned to head for the front door, long braids laced with filias bouncing behind him.
“He talked!” I hissed to Grandmother. “I didn’t know he could!”
The Ruler’s husband turned, and I realized in horror that he’d heard every word.
“I talk when I have something to say,” he said coolly. Then he turned around, opened the front door, and exited.
My face burned with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry,” Grandmother whispered. “You weren’t the only one who was speculating.”