by Anya Josephs
She lets the door open and steps out so we can see her.
I have looked at Sisi’s lovely face every day that I can remember. Even before my earliest memories, I must have seen her, for she has lived at the farm since I was only a year old. For all the years of my life, she has been the first thing I see in the morning when I wake and the last thing I see before I go to bed. I have seen her crying after a bitter fight with her brother, seen her undressed and dirt-stained as she takes her weekly bath, seen her ill enough to puke up her breakfast, seen her hair haloed around her head when she wakes up from sleeping, seen her red-cheeked with rage. In short, I generally consider myself quite immune to the fact that she is the most beautiful woman on Earth, since I have grown up looking at that most lovely face every single day.
Now the sight of her takes my breath away. Literally. I’m afraid that I might faint. Not that my corset is helping with that.
Her hair is as I dressed it—neatly pulled up into a bun, with a few gilded pins framing her face. Her makeup has been applied so neatly I can barely see it’s there, except for a touch of gold in the corner of her eyelids, a dark line of smoky kohl beneath her lashes, and a rich red stain on her lip. Her whole neckline is bare, her gown plunging down between her full breasts. It’s made of a simple white toile, smooth and unadorned, the color soft against her dark, gleaming skin. As she spins around to show it to us, I realize that there are thousands of tiny gemstones in all colors embroidered into it, so she flares like a rainbow, like a fire being lit. She’s wearing no jewelry at all, none of Ricard’s presents, except for the jeweled pins I placed in her hair.
Aunt Mae has tears in her eyes. “Child, you are—you are really lovely. You know that?”
“I feel so naked.” She laughs, sounding entirely different from the solemn, suspicious Sisi of only a few hours ago. “It doesn’t seem right, going out with my chest uncovered. But apparently it’s all the fashion for girls these days, and who am I to argue with the fashion.”
“You love to argue. With everything and everyone,” I point out.
She gives me a small smile at that. “I suppose you’re right. Now come on, I think we’re late already.”
“You’re the one who was late.”
“Technically.” She sweeps her bare arm out toward the door. “Well. After you?”
I limp down the hallway. It’s difficult to keep pace with Aunt Mae and Sisi as I struggle to walk in my skintight skirts and too-small shoes. The ballroom is halfway across the palace, and my feet are throbbing by the time we’re halfway there. Nor do I enjoy the long climb up a marble stair to get to the grand entryway to the ballroom, but at least when we reach the summit, I’m greeted kindly by the herald. He’s an older man wearing the now-familiar royal livery, and he gives me a wide smile as he asks for my name.
“Jeni,” I say, and then hesitate. “Well, my True Name is Jena, I’m not sure which—” Excellent. We’re not even in the room yet, and I’m already ruining things. Right on schedule. “From Leasane.”
He is gracious enough not to comment on my clumsy manners as he steps through a pair of red velvet curtains and proclaims, “Miss Jeni of Leasane!”
I step in behind him and walk through the curtains. The fabric brushes softly against my skin, and I blink, adjusting to the sudden twinkling light. I’m standing at the top of a set of golden stairs, looking down at a vast white room. Everywhere there are people, all at least as elegantly dressed as I am and most of them more so, and all their eyes are on me. The room is glimmering with candlelight. Since the ceiling is made of the same iridescent material as the outside of the palace, bright rainbows are being thrown everywhere. It’s actually rather hard to see anything, the many sparkling lights all but blinding me, and my heart is pounding loud enough that I can hear it inside my head, and loud, swinging music is playing, and everyone is looking at me.
I realize I’m supposed to walk down the stairs, not just stand up here and stare back at the crowd. I focus on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. I try not to look down, since I don’t want to seem as nervous as I am. My heart is hammering in my chest as I descend the staircase, down and down and down. I keep my thoughts firmly on not tripping over my tight skirts or my small shoes, and away from panic at the sight of all these people staring up at me, their faces blank with polite curiosity. If I begin taking in the overwhelming scene that surrounds me, I’ll absolutely trip and fall. And the shame of that will no doubt send me screaming back to my father’s farm, and then how will I help Sisi change the Kingdom?
Finally, I feel flat marble beneath the sole of my shoe. I’ve done it, and not fallen on my face even a little. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I have survived the first sixty seconds of His Majesty’s celebrated Midwinter Ball.
“Lady Mae of Leasane!”
Aunt Mae walks down with much more ease, descending the flight of stairs like she’s going down the ladder from our loft to the garden below. She even manages a bit of a smile at all the people staring at her as she does. As soon as she’s made her entrance, she finds me. “This is something, eh?” she asks.
It certainly is something. Something terrifying. Something all the etiquette lessons on Earth, all my sneaking around the palace, could never have prepared me for.
I’ve never seen so many people in my life.
Once again, the voice booms down from above. “Lady Sigranna, Two Hundred and Eighth in the Kingdom, Heiress by Title to His Lordship Jorjianus of Seahame, Mistress of the Fourteenth Quarter and Lady of Carlsbeach.”
“I didn’t know Sisi was so important,” I say to my aunt, who just shushes me. Sisi’s Number seems to have been bumped up quite a few places since the last time she showed off her title. I wonder why.
We stare up the stairs together, waiting along with everyone else. Of course, we’re the only ones prepared for what we’re about to see—most of the people here have never met Sisi, though they must have heard of her.
Then Sisi is making her entrance, into the party and into the Court. And I thought they’d stared at me. No one seems to be able to look away from her for a second as she takes step after lovely, elegant, even step down the long flight of stairs. Even the music has stopped, and the band is staring wide-eyed and wondering at her. All eyes are on my cousin as she makes her way into the ballroom.
Chapter Sixteen
Sisi’s slipper has barely touched the marble floor when a man I have never seen before puts himself in her path. She has to stop short to avoid crashing into him as he smiles at her and bows low. “Milady.”
She meets his eyes, giving him a small, tense smile in return. “Your Highness. I should have known I would find you waiting.” She extends her hand, and he kisses the back of it delicately. The etiquette Sisi and I tried to learn by rote looks rather better on a man who has practiced it since childhood, although Sisi’s natural grace may be what gives her the ability to keep up with him.
I take the opportunity to size up his appearance. He certainly matches Sisi’s descriptions, though I’d imagined him looking more sinister, somehow. He’s slender, though muscular through the shoulders and arms, and nearly a foot taller than even Sisi, who is big for a woman. He keeps his face clean-shaven, either for the ball or by habit, though he has thick, dark brows and charmingly tousled chestnut hair. He’s dressed more simply than I would have imagined a prince would be outfitted for his own ball: a red shirt with gold buttons, neat black pants, and an unadorned gold circlet around his head. It’s undeniable that he is a very attractive man, his bright eyes burning intensely as they sweep over Sisi’s form.
His voice, though, is calm and steady as he speaks to her. “You look lovely, Lady Sisi, if you’ll permit me to belabor the blatantly obvious.”
“You know how I feel about comments on my appearance, Your Highness.”
I’m a little surprised at the bluntness of her response. For all that Sisi has insisted that she would be only herself—her most abrasive and honest self—
around Lord Ricard, I would’ve thought even she would have to make some allowance for the fact that he is the King’s own brother, and Second in the Kingdom. Apparently not. Apparently Sisi is always Sisi, even in the face of royalty. I don’t know why I find this even slightly surprising.
She turns to where Aunt Mae and I are standing, quite literally, in her shadow. “May I present my family to Your Highness?”
“It would be a pleasure.”
“Aunt Mae, you know His Highness Lord Ricard.”
Aunt Mae curtsies.
Lord Ricard returns the gesture with a low bow, kissing her hand with as much grace as he had Sisi’s. “It is, as always, a delight to see you, Madam Mae. I hope you will enjoy your evening at the ball, madam.”
“A-and you, Your Highness.” There’s an uncharacteristic stammer in my aunt’s voice as she replies to the Prince.
I had forgotten that they’d met before, since Aunt Mae has supervised all of Sisi’s previous encounters with Lord Ricard. I’m the only one here encountering royalty for the very first time, and I can feel my heart fluttering in my chest as Sisi continues, “And dear cousin, allow me to present His Highness to you.”
“You must be the famous Mistress Jeni.” Lord Ricard bows.
I blush, realizing I was supposed to curtsy as soon as he addressed me and have forgotten. If only I’d known in advance how utterly embarrassing this evening was going to be, I could’ve saved the maids the trouble of pinching me half to death to give me a flush in my cheeks. “Your Highness.” I curtsy as low as I can, hoping to make up for the lateness of the gesture. My knees wobble, but—thank the Goddess—I manage to avoid actually tipping over onto my face.
He takes my hand in both of his, his long fingers completely encircling mine. Slowly, he lifts my hand up to his mouth. His lips are dry and warm, the sensation unfamiliar, and his eyes are locked on mine as he presses them to my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine to be so intently considered by this man, with his cold and lovely hazel eyes.
He doesn’t say anything more than pleasantries, though those eyes seem to be telling me something much more serious. “It is the greatest honor to make the acquaintance of one so dear to my lady. Lady Sisi always speaks so highly of you and of what a comfort your presence has been to her in this unfamiliar place.”
“I do my best,” I reply nervously, unsure how else to handle this situation. I wasn’t expecting to have to make conversation with the Prince. I just hope I don’t say anything wrong, either that will give offense, or, worse, that will give away Sisi’s plans.
Lord Ricard only chuckles in response, though, a low and pleasant sound.
The band has struck back up again, the high and warbling note of a violin the most prominent in the tune.
“Your lady kinswoman tells me of your success in that endeavor, Mistress Jeni. Surely, she would never have agreed to my invitation without your companionship, and so I am in your debt. I realize this is the first time I have had the great pleasure of making your acquaintance—a foolish oversight, I am sure.”
“I know you must have been very busy,” I offer, trying to find something at all to say that won’t be offensive or tasteless or just silly.
“Indeed, I am. Sometimes I wonder if I have rather more on my plate than even my dear brother does. Still, it does not excuse my rudeness in allowing such a lovely young girl, and my guest, to go unwelcomed for these many weeks. I am glad that I have had the pleasure now, though I sincerely wish we had met sooner. Lady Sisi says you are her first cousin?”
“Yes, but not by blood.”
“Oh?” is all he says, one of those high eyebrows arching.
“Surely you could have assumed,” I say, gesturing vaguely at the visual difference between Sisi and myself.
“As my lady is often kind enough to remind me, it is the height of rudeness to assume anything based on a lady’s looks—”
“And yet here we are,” Sisi murmurs, not quite loud enough for anyone but me to hear. I shoot her a worried glance. Surely, despite the liberties she’s apparently used to taking, she can’t just go around making snide jests at Lord Ricard’s expense under her breath.
“—so, I thought I should risk rudeness by asking, rather than give offense by assuming. If you don’t mind telling, the exact nature of the connection—”
At least this is a subject I know something about. Still, I’m not sure how much Sisi would want me to share. I’m grateful when she interrupts his question to tell the tale herself. “My lord, surely you remember the story of my early childhood.”
“Ah, yes. A terrible tragedy, I didn’t mean to bring it up on a happy occasion—”
“Well, my cousin Jena”—she puts just the slightest emphasis on my True Name, though if Lord Ricard notices, he doesn’t comment—“is related to me through my brother’s wife. My brother Jorj married a serving girl when he was still in possession of his titles and went to live with her family after we lost our lands. His wife, Merri, is the daughter of Jena’s father’s brother—if you can follow all that.”
“And I thought the royal family tree was dizzyingly complex,” he says with a bright smile.
A servant approaches, offering us sparkling wine in slim crystal glasses. Sisi and Lord Ricard each accept one, but Aunt Mae gives me such a glare I dare not reach for a glass of my own even as my aunt takes a long sip out of hers.
“Have you been enjoying your stay here in the Capital, ladies?” Lord Ricard says, addressing all three of us, though his eyes are still very much trained on Sisi.
“Oh, yes. Very much,” I say, since it seems like the only polite answer even though it is less than entirely true. “It’s been an honor to be here. Everything is so beautiful, and everyone has been so very kind to us.”
“I trust Elan has been satisfactory?”
“Yes, he’s been wonderful,” Aunt Mae says. “He’s helped us in so many ways.”
“I hoped as much. It’s not my preference to have one of the pahyat serving in so exalted a role, but he is simply the best anyone has been able to find. It is an unfortunate truth that, although the lesser people may harbor some resentment to us of higher stature, it is most difficult to do without them. Don’t you agree?”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. It seems like it would be rude to directly contradict His Royal Highness, Second in the Kingdom, and yet it can’t be right to agree with him either, not when he’s saying something so nasty about Elan. I think of how the man—or the pahyati, I suppose—had taken the time to reassure me after my request for help learning to read, how he had recognized my loneliness and nervousness and somehow found the right words to soothe them both without upsetting my pride. I can’t say that, though, so instead I open my mouth. I would argue, I would, but I don’t know what words to use. Instead, I only say, “In my village everyone is human, and I never had the pleasure of meeting any of the other go’im before Elan. I must say that I have found him most gracious and kind to us all.”
“Ah, for the innocence of a child. You are fortunate to know so little of the true nature of the pahyat—for Elan is, or at least seems, a mere exception to the thieving and greed that exemplifies that people. I hope I shall have the chance to show you my research on the subject, for I consider myself something of an expert. Too few of our great minds, especially since my grandfather closed the last of the Royal Schools, have been turned to this problem, though I think it is the one which plagues us most.”
“Forgive me, my lord. I am not sure I understand—what problem?”
“Why, the problem of how the different peoples of the Earth—the adirim, the pahyat, and us poor humans—are to get along with one another.” He clears his throat. “But you must forgive me, ladies. I have gotten carried away on one of my favored topics—as a busy man, one with the heavy burden of ruling a Kingdom, I am afraid I think of little but politics. When I have started down the path of discussing it, there is hardly anything that can turn my thoughts from it. It
is a most inappropriate subject for three lovely ladies to hear tell of, and particularly at a great ball such as this one.”
I don’t find it inappropriate. I find it interesting, if perhaps upsetting to hear him insult someone I’ve come to like and respect in our time here. Still, I realize I’m probably not supposed to say that. So instead I curtsy quickly. “It’s no trouble at all, Your Highness.”
“It’s not often simple countryside girls like ourselves get to hear from such an important man,” Sisi demurs, sounding facetious even to my ears—though Lord Ricard seems flattered enough. I suppose she’s willing to break her own rules about honesty if it will keep Lord Ricard talking.
“I am glad I can hold your interest, even though I ought not mix work and pleasure so much. How I wish I had my brother’s gift! He seems always to be able to forget everything and enjoy himself at balls like this one.”
That doesn’t sound quite like a compliment. I try to find a polite response. “I hope Your Highness is able to relax. It does seem like a lovely party.”
“And I am fortunate enough to have the most beautiful and gracious lady in the Kingdom at my side, as you are too polite to remind me. I ought not forget the extent of my good fortune.” He smiles at Sisi, a surprisingly cold expression. It frightens me a little, but Sisi holds his gaze, her own lips tilting upward just a little.
“My lord is, as always, too kind.”
“You would be the first to say that of me,” he says. “Or at least, the first to mean it. Now, I think the lovely Jeni wisely mentioned I should be enjoying this evening. Perhaps we ought to dance?”
“Your Highness has only to ask, of course.” Sisi is still smiling that strange little smile, the one that sits so unnaturally on her face, at him. She has been wearing it all evening, like a mask.
“I am indeed a lucky man.” He turns to Aunt Mae and me, briefly. “Ladies, I hope you will enjoy the ball. Do let me know if there is anything at all I can do to increase your comfort.” Lord Ricard bows again. “Now, I was wondering if I could beg your excuses for my company and ask my lady Sisi for the honor of this dance.”