by Tanya Bird
‘Awful? You are attacking my only talent.’
‘If that is the talent you are leaning on then we should probably say our goodbyes now.’ Hali smiled. ‘I believe we are yet to uncover your talent.’
‘I hope you are right. My family cannot afford to buy me back, even at half price.’
Hali stood up. ‘Let’s go and choose you a dress that sets you apart from the stable hands. Tomorrow you finally meet your prince.’
In the morning, Aldara woke before the others. She sat in her nightgown in front of the mirror in the dressing room, staring at the girl, trying to see the woman. She was seventeen that day. Although coming of age for a Syrasan woman was sixteen, she still felt trapped in her adolescence. If she had been on the farm, her brother would have woken her before dawn to go riding before their chores began. They would have returned to the house as the sun was climbing and gulped down a hot morning meal of broth and bread, reluctantly served up by their mother, who would complain the entire time they were eating. ‘We’ll be hungry tonight,’ she would say, ruining the mood for everyone. Her father would smile with his eyes only and wink at her. Later he would help her with her chores so she could spend the afternoon as she pleased.
Aldara looked away from the mirror and swallowed down the choking feeling rising in her throat. The moment of self-pity was interrupted by Hali bursting into the room and planting an excited kiss on her cheek. ‘Put on the dress. I want to see you in it,’ she said. ‘You will have the attention of every man today.’
Aldara watched in the mirror as Hali laid out the garments. ‘With Astra in attendance I cannot imagine anyone will even notice I am there.’
Hali glanced at the door to make sure no one was coming. ‘She rarely visits his bed, you know. He may flaunt her in front his guests, but those angelic hands of hers do not venture further than her harp these days.’
Aldara stood and walked over to the dresses hanging along the wall. She pulled a cream coloured dress from its hanger and held it against herself. ‘He has you for his bed.’
A worried expression settled on Hali’s face. ‘Yes, but there is a reason she is not off entertaining his friends with the other retired Companions. He needs the best. And she is still the best in the terms that matter.’
Aldara looked at her, unsure what to say.
‘It’s all right,’ Hali reassured her. ‘I may not be the smartest Companion here, but I can figure out the basics.’ She took the dress from Aldara’s hands. ‘Put that away. We already decided on this one.’ She held up the deep blue silk dress with short sleeves and plunging neckline. ‘You won’t be able to wear anything underneath from the waist up.’
The dress had a thin belt that wrapped underneath the bust, designed to give a fuller appearance. Hali had helpfully pointed out that Aldara needed such a feature.
After Aldara had slipped into the dress, she stared at the mirror. Initially, she thought she appeared older, but the longer she looked, the more she felt like a child playing dress-up.
‘Sit,’ Hali instructed. ‘I will do your hair and face so that the next time you look into the mirror you smile at what you see.’
Aldara had never seen Hali concentrate so intensely on a task. She spent most of her time painting Aldara’s eyes and left the rest of her face natural. She combed her hair to the side and did a braid before fixing a silver hair piece behind her ear. When Aldara looked back at the mirror, her breathing slowed. The blue paint around her bright eyes made them a startling highlight. She stood up and studied her reflection. She felt far less ridiculous and almost seemed like one of them.
Hali could not stand around admiring Aldara since she had to get herself ready as well. The room was filling with women. They said nothing as Aldara painted their faces, fitted their dresses and picked out their jewels. Most of the women had chosen velvet for its warmth, but when Astra saw Aldara, she went and changed into a silk gown.
Fedora came to check on the women before their departure. She circled the room, casting a critical eye over each of them. Her face gave little away. She paused next to Aldara for a moment. ‘Lovely,’ she said, before walking on. ‘It is cold outside. Do not return to me ill. Most of you will be requested this evening, and I do not want to have to explain to our lords that you are not well enough to attend.’
The women moved around Aldara like a flock of startled birds. Colour swirled about her while her own feet remained anchored to the hardwood floor. Hali stopped in the doorway to wait for her, but Aldara waved her on. Finally, she was alone with her mirrored reflection once again. She lifted her dress off the ground to see her silk shoes.
‘I wore that dress once,’ came a voice from the doorway.
She looked up to see Idalia leaning against the wooden frame. Her hair was out, and her face scrubbed clean. She wore a simple cotton dress and had a blanket draped around her shoulders.
‘It was years ago, but I will never forget the way the king watched me that day.’ A faint smile came to her face. ‘That is the right dress for you today.’
Aldara pressed her hands against the belt. ‘I imagine you filled it much better than I do.’
Idalia laughed. ‘Your youthful appearance will one day work in your favour. Do not wish it away. Men never do the math, but most see clearly.’ She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
‘Are you still unwell?’
Idalia shook her head. ‘Just tired.’ She pushed herself off the doorframe and walked off towards the bedchamber.
It was time for Aldara to catch up to the others. She did not look back at the mirror, instead envisioning Idalia in the same dress, standing boldly before a besotted king. Success meant survival. That is what moved Aldara’s feet forward.
Chapter 8
Tyron had never been one for riding without a destination, but now he rode aimlessly for long periods, and sometimes at ungodly hours. He had just returned from a ride when his brothers walked into the stables with a tangle of excited dogs at their feet. He dismounted, and a groom rushed forward to take his horse.
‘Have someone check him over,’ he said to the young boy. ‘He feels lame.’
Pandarus and Stamitos joined him, whistling at the dogs in an attempt to calm them. Stamitos put a hand on Tyron’s shoulder and squeezed it. Pandarus folded his arms in front of him.
‘I thought that gelding of yours was unbreakable,’ Stamitos said.
Tyron watched the horse walk away. When it was out of sight he looked at Stamitos. He was taller than Pandarus now, but a childish smile flickered on his face, a reminder he was still a boy despite his recent coming of age. Tyron thought of Pandarus at that age, ruler of his younger siblings, barking orders at them as though he were already king.
‘Perhaps today you could retire your old warhorse and make use of some of the other mounts wasting away here. These are the finest horses in Syrasan,’ Pandarus said, looking about. ‘They are not here for show.’
Tyron could not have disagreed more. ‘Then stop buying them,’ he said. ‘Let us put the gold to better use.’ His eyes remained on Stamitos. ‘The gelding has a lot of fight left in him. Don’t feed him to the dogs just yet.’
Pandarus’s gaze remained on Tyron. He did not like to be reprimanded by anyone, but especially Tyron. ‘Will you be joining the hunt today? It will be a large group, and I am sure the men will feel honoured by your participation.’
Tyron glanced at him tiredly. The sarcastic tone reminded him of Cora. Hunts hosted by Pandarus were an excuse to display his horses, his dogs, his riding abilities, and his women. He liked to prove he could handle a bow, to make up for his inability to use a sword with any skill. Half the guests would come to hunt; the other half would come for the women. It was exactly the type of gathering Tyron tried to avoid. Stamitos enjoyed them because he was starving for action in any form he could get it. Hunting deer and boar was his only option for now.
‘The guests will be arriving shortly, so I suggest you select a horse that can stay u
pright,’ Pandarus said, losing patience. ‘Also, do you recall that during your absence I organised a gift for your return?’
Tyron remembered—he remembered thinking he would have preferred a horse. Pandarus was the last person he trusted to make that choice for him. Tyron had socialised with his entire collection of women and often had difficulty deciphering between them. Aside from a few varying physical attributes, he found them eerily similar. There was a reason Tyron did not have a formal Companion. He preferred to keep them as far away from Fedora as possible. ‘I recall I was appreciative of the gesture,’ he said.
‘Appreciative of the gesture?’ Pandarus said, gaping at him. ‘You have yet to meet the girl, let alone bed her. I would have been better off giving her to Stamitos or putting her to work in the kitchen.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Stamitos said, folding his arms and puffing his chest. ‘While I am not as fussy as Tyron, I do have a type.’
‘Since when?’ Pandarus said.
Tyron suppressed a smile. ‘Don’t you remember when he got into the wine cellar a few years back and announced to a room full of guests he “prefers them tough more than pretty”?’
Pandarus nodded. ‘I remember he was sick on my boots. I threw them out.’
‘It is no secret I prefer a woman who can handle herself,’ Stamitos said.
The warmth of the moment was enough to make Tyron agree to the hunt. ‘I’m going to change before the others arrive.’ He glanced at Pandarus. ‘Do not start without me.’
Tyron left the smell of grain and manure and walked up the gravel path towards the castle. Pero was following a few paces behind, always respectful of his need for space and quiet. Tyron was watching the gravel crunch beneath his feet until he heard the crunch of footsteps ahead of him. He looked up and saw the Companions moving towards him like a shifting rainbow. There they were, the kingdom’s most beautiful, the majority hand selected by his spoiled brother who insisted on the best of everything.
As he neared them, he nodded in their direction. They stopped and curtsied before him.
‘Good morning, my lord,’ they murmured, maintaining their positions as he passed.
All but one, that is. She was far behind with her face tilted up towards the sun, enjoying its warmth. She was oblivious to what was in front of her, arms swinging, creamy skin flashing beneath her blue cloak. Her golden hair was braided to one side, exposing her neck. Tyron’s eyes remained on that neck for longer than they should have. He forced them up to her face, and seeing she was not going to stop, he paused to watch her collide with the woman in front of her. She stumbled back and looked around, an expression of panic on her face as she tried to read the situation. When she noticed him standing there, he could tell that she did not know who he was. Her eyes took in his attire and locked onto his arm where the royal symbol was secured. She immediately fell into a curtsy and turned her eyes to the ground in front of her.
‘Good morning, my lord.’ She was barely audible.
Tyron was suddenly aware that he had stopped walking, which meant the other women were still lowered in a curtsy. He was about to walk on when the girl returned to a standing position prematurely. He could not help but enjoy her expression as she realised her mistake. She seemed to be trying to decide whether to return to a curtsy. To save her any further embarrassment, and release the women from their long-held positions, he nodded once in her direction and continued up the path.
Aldara was drowning in the disapproving stares from the other women. Hali held an expression of pity, which was worse. She had just disrespected a prince and made a fool of herself in the process. Fedora would not be pleased with that first impression.
The women took a moment to collect themselves before continuing. This time Aldara remained alert as she followed behind. When they stepped off the path onto the paved yard, Aldara and Hali stopped to take in the sight of the tethered thoroughbreds and overdressed men.
‘Watch,’ Hali whispered.
All the men ceased talking, inspecting the women as they approached.
‘Fedora is always stressing the importance of discretion, and yet the men have none.’ Hali sniffed the air. ‘All I can smell is manure.’
Aldara could only smell horse and leather. It calmed her. She watched as the other women slipped into the setting, positioning themselves among the guests as though they were about to have their portraits painted. Astra was first to greet Prince Pandarus, who Aldara recognised from the day of the hanging in Roysten. He had the same expression of self-importance, and the same spotless boots. She had to admit that he looked twice the man with Astra standing at his side. It was as though the sun was rising next to him. Her tangerine dress spilled onto the ground beneath her long cloak, and her gold earrings swung as she spoke. Aldara noted the convincing smile on her face, her modest body language, and the way she turned into him when he offered to take her cloak. She was his in that moment.
‘She will be freezing in five minutes,’ Hali said. ‘When she is done pouring herself over him, I will give you a formal introduction.’
Aldara spotted the third prince a few feet away. He was broad shouldered with laughing eyes. His clean-shaven face and sandy coloured hair were different from his siblings. A sinking feeling came to her stomach as she watched him.
‘That was Prince Tyron, wasn’t it?’ She looked at Hali. ‘On the path?’
Hali nodded, keeping her face neutral for those around them. ‘I warned you about his demeanour.’ She glanced at Aldara. ‘Don’t worry, when he returns you can start fresh. Introduce yourself formerly and make a good impression.’
‘You only get one first impression.’
‘He probably won’t even make the earlier connection.’
Aldara was doubtful of that, but it was not the time or place to debate the topic. The men were swarming about the other women like children around sweetbread. ‘We should socialise,’ she said, finding her smile.
The kitchen servants had arrived and were serving refreshments from a small wooden table dressed in red linen. They kicked the dogs sniffing around their feet, waiting for food to fall. A harp and chair, carried by servants, was being positioned next to the table. A handful of guests applauded, a show of encouragement for Astra, who placed a modest hand on her chest and excused herself from Pandarus’s shadow. She made her way through the middle of the adoring men and made herself comfortable on the chair. She spent a few moments positioning her dress in a way that enhanced her angelic appearance. Her head rolled in towards the harp, and her eyes closed as her fingers touched the strings. The silver cuff on her left arm was reflecting the morning sun. She appeared to be radiating light. From that moment on, she seemed oblivious to the stares of the men. While Aldara had seen her practice many times, she had never seen such a sensual performance. She was almost fooled by it.
‘Let’s go before the other women get their claws into him,’ Hali whispered, removing her cloak and shivering against the cold air.
One of Hali’s many talents was her ability to show cleavage regardless of the style of dress she wore. Her physique could not be harnessed. The removal of the cloak must have had the desired effect because Pandarus was suddenly walking towards them with his eyes fixed on Hali’s breasts.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, placing a hand at the base of Hali’s back.
A childish smile came to Hali’s face as she curtsied before him, nice and low so he had a clear view down her dress. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said. ‘Allow me to formally introduce you to Aldara. I believe you met her in the village of Roysten awhile back.’
Her tone had a purr to it Aldara had never heard before. Pandarus looked at Aldara, beginning at her face and working his way down her body with no discretion.
‘My lord,’ she said, lowering into a curtsy. Even with her cloak on she felt exposed.
‘Fedora has kept you well-hidden,’ he said. ‘I was quite nervous on my brother’s behalf.’
Aldara continued to smile
. ‘Fedora has high standards for all the ladies, my lord. She wants only to please you and your family.’
‘You sound just like her,’ he said, glancing at her chest. ‘I remember you in Roysten. You were knee-deep in mud when I met you.’
He was trying to embarrass her. ‘It would not have been appropriate to approach you on horseback, my lord.’
Pandarus lost his playful expression and studied her face. ‘And what has kept you busy with Fedora for so many months?’
She felt like she was being sold all over again, her worth continually being weighed up. ‘I have been very fortunate in receiving a broad education. I am learning to speak the native Zoelin language at present.’
‘Aldara loves history,’ Hali added. ‘She stays up most nights devouring books she has already read.’
Pandarus looked away. ‘Perhaps you and Tyron are suited after all. His tastes are vastly different from mine, and his standards much lower.’
He turned his entire body away from her then. Aldara stared at his back for a moment. It seemed their conversation had ended. Hali gave her an apologetic glance. She curtsied, excused herself with no response from him, and slipped into the shadows of the stalls.
She leant against the wall, heart pounding, trying to slow her breathing using a technique Fedora had taught her. ‘Great women remain poised at all times,’ she had told them. ‘Have you ever seen a flustered queen?’ Remaining composed under pressure was essential because falling apart was not an option for a Companion. Emotion was a private luxury.
As she remained hidden, listening to the hum of rehearsed conversation, a groom led a grey destrier gelding past her. Another man came and stood in front of the horse, observing his gait before moving to the side to watch from a different angle. Aldara could see the gelding’s stride was short. The man walked over and lifted the right front hoof, examined it, and then let go. He said something to the groom who then tied the horse up before leaving to get tack.