Octavia leaned away from her. "Just one? But you're so wonderful."
"Yes, well, it's a lot easier being open about these things in the city than in a village full of Turonim," Miranda said idly. "And the girl in question turned out to find my money more appealing than my looks or charm. It put me off looking, until I met you. I know that you won't ever hurt me."
"Never," Octavia agreed.
Miranda looked down at her hands for a moment. "So what about you?"
"No," Octavia shook her head. "I've never met anyone who made me feel the way you do."
The litter stopped.
"We're here," Aelia said from outside.
"Thank you," Miranda said, as Octavia leaped from the palanquin first before helping Miranda climb out. The palace gardens were fragrant, the colours of the flowers much more vibrant and impressive in daylight. Miranda peered through the foliage, hoping for another sight of a unicorn, but she could not see one.
"Just so you know," Aelia said. "I heard everything the two of you were talking about in there."
It was Miranda's turn to flush as bright as Octavia. "Why were you even listening in the first place?"
"Because I had nothing better to do," Aelia said. "And because it was funny. I warn you though, I wouldn't count on Lord Father letting you go. Once you serve him you serve until he's done with you."
Miranda frowned. "Then why does anyone choose to serve him?"
"Because who else would let us get away with the things he lets us do?" Aelia replied. "Name a woman stone mason you've heard of. Anyway, I'll wait here with the litter until you're done."
Miranda had expected to see some guards' officer waiting to greet her, as there had been last time. But although there were guardsmen present, led by the unmistakably thuggish figure of Captain Thrakes, who looked as out of place now as he had done the last time, they had withdrawn a little way from Miranda and her litter, to give room to Princess Romana, who stood before Miranda with her back straight and her hands clasped behind her back. The princess was dressed not in black - come to think of it, Miranda realised she had not worn black the last time she was here either - but in a gown of flowing purple. Her ponytail was draped over her shoulder, snaking down her left sleeve. She looked as though she was standing on her toes again for extra height, for she was able to look Miranda square in the eye as Miranda shuffled towards her.
"Filia Miranda," Romana said brightly. "How delightful to see you again."
"Your Highness," Miranda murmured coldly.
"And this lovely creature must be Filia Octavia Volucris."
Octavia bowed her head. "Your Highnes."
Romana said something to her in a foreign language, speaking so swiftly and in such a high pitch that Miranda did not know where to begin in separating the individual words and phrases.
Octavia hesitated, and then said, "I'm sorry, your highness, I don't understand."
Romana blinked. "Ah. I do apologise, it was not my intention to embarass you. I merely assumed that you could speak aestival, and I so rarely get the opportunity to practice. I simply said, 'Love has made two pretty girls beautiful'."
Miranda's eyes widened. "How under the ocean did you know about that?"
Romana chuckled. "I haven't been spying on you, Filia, if that is what you are afraid. My agents have better things to do than monitor the state of your private life."
"Forgive me, your highness, but I must ask if you are here simply to be infuriating," Miranda growled.
"Actually, I'm here to apologise," Romana said. "It was not my intention to insult you with my words on your last visit here. I see now that I was needlessly cruel. I very much hope that you can forgive me, Filia Miranda."
Miranda's grip on her walking stick tightened. "I get the impression that that was very hard for you."
The corners of Romana's lips rose slightly. "An apology is, ultimately, a surrendering of pride. As I have, if I say so myself, rather more pride than most, so they are concomitantly harder upon me than on the common run of men."
"Hmm," Miranda murmured. "Very well, your highness, you are forgiven if that truly matters to you."
"Your goodwill matters to me, Filia, it matters enormously," Romana said. "Now, if I may have a few moments before Portia steals all of your attention, I wonder if I might introduce you to some friends of mine." She took Miranda by the arm and began to steer her down out of the garden paths, past rosebushes and cornflower beds, where nightingales sang. Octavia was left to follow along behind, as were the princess' guards. "That's a very pretty dress by the way, is it new?"
"I presume so, your highness, it came from Portia along with her invitation," Miranda said. It was a little more figure hugging than Miranda would normally have worn, clinging to every curve of her body above the hips, but it had a beautiful colour - white at the shoulders, gradually shading into deep pink in such a seamless way that Miranda could not fathom how it was done - and the fabric was so soft that, even had it not been a gift it would almost have been a travesty not to have worn it. Miranda was a little unused to baring so much to the world, her arms all the way up to the shoulders, and the diving neckline revealed a touch of her cleavage as nothing she had ever worn before, but she could not deny that it was very comfortable on a hot day like today.
Nor could she deny that it made her look rather gorgeous, and Miranda found that that mattered to her more now that she had someone to look gorgeous for.
Romana smiled. "I feel I must advise you to be careful, Filia. Portia is very generous with her friends, even when those friends are unworthy of her, but in a place such as this generosity can be very easily misunderstood, sometimes wilfully. There are those who will wonder what you are doing to earn the gifts the Princess Consort will lavish on you, and there are those who will invent the answers to those wonderings, and the inventions will not be to your benefit."
Miranda nodded, what Romana said made more sense than most of the things she stated with such certainty. "I will keep that in mind, your highness, thank you."
"The other thing you should keep in mind is that, because she so thoughtlessly showers her friends with gifts, Portia is more hurt than most when her friends betray her. Hence the unwise dismissal of her household, for instance. So please don't hurt her, she doesn't deserve it."
Miranda's eyebrows rose. "You care about her, don't you, highness?"
"Is that so odd?"
"You want the throne, that's plain to see," Miranda said, shrugging her shoulders. "If Portia gives the Emperor a child, neither you nor Antiochus will ever sit on that seat. In that way, isn't she your enemy?"
"In the first place, Filia, I do not want the throne, it is my destiny to have it," Princess Romana said. "In the second place, I would never hurt my brother to seize power, certainly I would not hurt Portia. She is a sweet girl, and harmless, the sort of person Aegea bid her faithful children to protect. She is the humble who are to be lifted up, and if she has been lifted up a little too high that is no fault of hers. You do not understand me very well, do you Filia?"
"Not as well as I should like," Miranda said.
"Indeed," Romana replied. "Indeed.
"Your Highness, may I ask you a question about how you are dressed?" Miranda said. "Why is it that you are not wearing black, nor were you when last I was here? Has the mourning period for traditional values expired?"
"Ah, yes, the black," Romana said. "The black is...you might call it a costume. It sets out plainly what I stand for, and in such a way that none can be unaware of it who so much as see me. I could go out in public ten times more often than I do, I could give a hundred speeches up and down the city, and it would make less impact than the fact that whenever I am seen - which is not often, for I do not believe in letting myself become a stale sight in the eyes of the general - I am seen in mourning garb for all that we have lost as a great nation. It is a piece of theatre, and like all theatre it is mostly played to the commons. I see no reason to restrict myself within the security
of these walls."
"Is that it?" Miranda asked, feeling rather disappointed. "All your talk about the Empire and its greatness, about glory, about destiny, it was all just an act? You were just playing to the crowds to gather support?"
"Aegea forfend me no, Filia," Princess Romana declared. "Certainly not! I am a true and loyal servant to the Empress, who died for us, and were you to pluck out my heart right now you would find the glory of the Empire engraved upon it in letters of fire. I am the Empire's true and loyal servant, but I cannot serve her alone, and to gather support, as you say, I will use any means at my disposal, including playing to my image now and then."
Princess Romana led her to one of the garden courtyards, a grassy square with the corners marked out by four statues of generals garbed for war, and spaced between the statues various stone benches on which five elegant ladies sat and one scruffy looking girl perched awkwardly. The Princess' household guard, in their white cloaks and purple shields emblazoned with the symbol of the wolf's head, stood guard in an impromptu circle around the open square. Also present were the numerous attendants, women in common stola in earthy tones, whom Miranda had expected to see, and a large number of old men in exotic attire, with long beards and mystics' staves, whom she had not. Some of them watched the princess keenly, others of them peered into bowls of wine or muttered in strange languages over old bones. Almost as strange were the half-dozen heavies who hovered on the outside of the circle of guardsmen. They were a muscular lot, four men and two women, wearing no weapons but looking strong enough to do quite well without them, almost bulging out of their rough homespun. They looked more like bandits, or mercenaries down on their luck, than they did bodyguards to an Imperial princess, and Miranda thought that she could see some of Romana's actual guards regarding the toughs with suspicion, if not hostility.
It certainly was quite a menagerie, and Miranda found herself recalling Lord Quirian's pronouncement that the princess was mad. Miranda did not believe that, but she did believe that Romana courted such gossip with eccentricities such as the company she kept and her unabashed enthusiasm for dead religions and forgotten ideals.
As she strode into the square Romana clapped her hands together twice, drawing the attention of all concerned. "Everyone, this is Filia Miranda Callistus, creator of golems and heir to Aurelia, and her companion Filia Octavia Volucris."
One of the ladies, a pretty young thing with her golden hair in ringlets pinned behind her head and falling down her neck, stood up and curtsied. "It is an honour to meet you at last, Filia. Her Highness has told us so much about you."
The scruffy looking girl, whose dark hair was worn in a pixie cut clinging the sides of her face, scowled. "She doesn't look very impressive. She can't even walk by herself."
"Hyllia," Princess Romana said sharply. "That was not courteous. And what is courtesy?"
Hyllia looked down at her feet. "The food that sustains civilisation, your highness."
"Precisely," Romana said. "Barbarians may say as they like and accept all consequences for their bluntness, but we who wish to maintain a society must sometimes dissemble our thoughts for the sake of a harmonious community."
"I'm sorry, Filia."
"Yes, well," Miranda muttered.
"Filia," Romana said. "Allow me to introduce you to my faithful followers. First, my ladies in waiting: Lady Junia Livius, third daughter to Lord Livius. Incidentally, the statue behind Junia happens to be of the first Lord Livius, one of Aegea the Great's legates."
"Filia Miranda," Lady Junia said, her voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper. Her hair was black and tied in a severe bun and her eyes were a dark, earthy brown that regarded Miranda intently.
"Lady Harmonia Rutulus Castra, second daughter to Lord Rutulus."
"A pleasure, Filia." Lady Harmonia was a plump young girl with mousy brown hair and a smile that blossomed across her face, though Miranda had the distinct impression it would fade just as quickly.
"The Honourable Euphemia Salinator, grand-daughter to Lord Salinator," Romana said, gesturing to the pretty blonde ingenue who had curtsied to Miranda earlier, and who nodded her head with an encouraging smile.
"Vespasia Flaminius, of a fine Equestrian family."
"Charmed, Filia," Vespasia said. Of all the ladies present she was the most petite, and also the one wearing the most finery, as if hoping to compensate in display of lavish wealth for her lack of ancestors compared to her titled and blooded companions in the princess' service.
"And Elylyona Castra, natural born daughter to Lord Lacus."
Natural born being a polite way of saying illegitimate, I suppose, Miranda thought, wondering why a princess would accept the insult of having a bastard placed in her household. Mind you, Elylyona was very pretty, with red hair that was the more striking for being rather unusual, and pale skin and doe eyes of sky blue. Miranda looked away before Octavia started to get jealous.
Next Princess Romana gestured to the young girl who had spoken out of turn before. "Next allow me to present Hyllia of the Subura, my cupbearer."
Hyllia did not move from her lounging posture on the stone bench. "How d'you do?"
"Hyllia," Romana said.
"Sorry, princess," Hyllia said, leaping off the bench and bowing. Her voice drawled as she said, "Absolutely delighted, Filia."
Romana smirked as she passed on to the next member of her assembled host. "And here we have Smerdis, a magi from Xarzia-"
A man with a forked beard and a Xarzian cast to his skin, wearing robes of many colours trimmed with gold, bowed as he interrupted. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I am from Cypris."
"Yes, you're rather particular about that, aren't you?" Romana said. "In any case, he is a magi and one of the interpreters of my dreams. The man next to him is Cambyses, his brother, also a magi, while the man with the bones is Praesutagus, a seer from Mavenor, while Daniel is a Coronim priest and also an interpreter of visions. He's also hoping to convert me to the faith of the Turonim but I haven't the heart to tell him I'm a lost cause. Then of course there are my guards: Captain Demophon Thrakes, Sergeant James Oraka, Optio Acamas Urba, Guardsman Herodian Turius, Guardsman Thurio Crotonius, Guardsman Polites Gonatas, Guardsman Petilius Cerialis, Guardsman-"
"I think, your highness, that you are mocking me ever so slightly," Miranda said, a trifle tersely. "In any event, you may consider your point made."
"Indeed," Romana said. "And what point is that, Filia?"
Miranda shifted a little where she stood, leaning her weight upon her stick. "You introduced your ladies in waiting to demonstrate that you have friends in the noble houses, and then you introduced your guards to demonstrate to me that you knew their names. I confess I do not know why you introduced your dream interpreters. I do not even know why you have dream interpreters."
"To interpret my dreams, Filia, why else?" Romana said with a smile. "Hyllia, give up the seat to Filia Miranda, that she may rest her leg. Would you like some wine, Filia?"
"No, thank you," Miranda said as she sat down. Octavia stood behind her, a comforting if silent presence. "Is this what you wished to show me, your highness, the size and unusual makeup of your retinue?"
"No," Romana said, sitting down beside her. "Although it was a benefit. No, what I wanted you to see is this. Elylyona, if you would."
"Of course, Highness," Elylyona said, rising to her feet and picking up a large flat object covered in a grey cloth. She set it down in front of Miranda and the princess, before removing the cloth covering to revealing a painting in a silver frame.
"That...that is, um," Miranda murmured, not really knowing what to say. She supposed that it was a well painted work, with lots of swirling paint lines and assertive brush strokes, but it was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before. It depicted, as best she could tell, a landscape; although it was not a landscape Miranda recognised nor could imagine seeing in the life. The sky was a ghostly grey, becoming bluer in layers the higher up the canvas one's eye
went. The ground was blasted and barren, and the colour was somewhat reminiscent of ash save for the streaks of red and yellow like fiery fingers spreading across it. A single tree, or at least Miranda thought it was a tree though it was the colour of bronze, stood limply one one side of the painting. The ground was cracked, but otherwise featureless. Three suns: one yellow, one red and one black, hung in the sky above.
There was no focus to the piece. Not a living thing stirred anywhere. The closest thing to a centre the painting had was the vortex of black emerging from the dark sun in place of light. As she looked at it, Miranda began to feel very depressed.
She tore her eyes away. "What does it mean, your highness?"
"I really have no idea," Romana said, gesturing for Elylyona to cover it up. "It is a Tarquinian work, from the last decade before the Imperial conquest. It was the era of the Heraklian War, of Aulia and Lartha at the height of their powers, of Cae the Guileless and Helenus the Beguiling, but you would not know it to look at this piece. It is called 'Imagination Unbound' and as best anyone can tell it represents an attempt to depict a genuinely alien landscape. It's quite hideous, isn't it?"
Miranda frowned. "Your Highness, if you do not like it, why did you show it me?"
"Because I thought that you would find it incomprehensible, and so you might come to understand," Romana said. "That feeling of being completely unable to understand something...I fear that is how I feel when I try to comprehend you. If you were motivated by self interest that would be one thing, but I believe, though I cannot be certain, that you are motivated by principle. It is simply that the principles are so far removed from my own that I cannot grasp them."
"Then why do you keep trying?" Miranda asked.
"Because I must," Romana said earnestly. "Because you are important to the destiny of this country. Maybe even more important than I am."
Lady Junia Livius snorted. Vespasia and Elylyona looked deeply sceptical. Harmonia's face was inscrutable. Only Euphemia looked as though she might believe her mistress.
"What makes you say that?" Miranda said.
Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) Page 56