“The sheep made a mess all over the stage, and your mother stepped in it. There has been an extensive revision since then.”
“What am I now? A salt shaker?”
“Don’t say that too loud. Your mother will get ideas about symbolism. You are a snowflake.”
“Really? We’re doing the fairy snow again?”
Lady Alma snapped me into white leather boots with a bit of a heel. They fanned out at my ankle into a lace snowflake pattern accented with swan feathers.
“This opera premieres tomorrow. Don’t you dare say anything. You’re playing the first snowflake instead of the fairy queen, which makes it completely different from the last three operas your mother wrote. Put these on.”
She handed me two silver bracelets. I slid them onto my right arm.
“No, one on each arm.”
“Please tell me the choreography hasn’t changed.”
“Surely not.”
Sir Lefting entered. He held his conductor’s baton and waved it around to punctuate everything he said.
“The choreography is exactly the same. Except you must step backwards every twelve counts.”
“What?”
“As part of the stage magic,” Lady Alma said. “Try it now.”
I stepped back, tripped on something, and nearly lost my balance. I lifted my triangular skirt to see what had caught my shoe. My foot hovered a few inches above the floor. I tapped it. Something solid and invisible stopped my shoe from reaching the ground.
“A genius spell by the Lady Alma,” Sir Lefting said. “Each time you step back, you will be elevated a few inches.”
“How do I get down?”
“Once you reach the top of the stage, each step will take you down regardless of direction. Perhaps we may begin rehearsal now?”
“It is perfectly safe,” Lady Alma said.
I did not feel unsafe, just unsettled. No one noticed my feet were not touching the ground as I entered the stage and bowed. Sir Lefting waved his baton. The music began.
The chorus of singers and ballerinas wore blue trimmed with silver. They entered the stage and surrounded me. I twirled amongst them. Every twelve beats I stepped backwards, and my invisible platform rose a few inches. The diamonds hovering over my dress spread out as I danced above the stage. The dress itself also spread out. Extra fabric unfolded until I was surrounded by a circle of white silk. By the time my feet reached the top of everyone’s heads, the diamonds surrounded me like rays of the sun. My salt shaker hat became the center of the snowflake.
One by one, the chorus left the stage. When they had all gone, I stood at the center and began my aria. My enchanted voice rang through the opera house. Gradually the players of the orchestra stopped until I sang alone. As I sang my final note, I walked forward and descended an invisible staircase until I reached the stage. The diamonds on my dress drifted towards me until they sat just above the fabric again, rippling in a wind I couldn’t feel. Two footsteps echoed in the silent hall when my feet connected with the floor.
“Magnificent!” Mother yelled. “My greatest triumph yet! Now run the whole opera. I want to see my revisions in action.”
I nodded to Sir Lefting and walked backstage. My solo was the opera’s grand finale, so I had time to relax until I performed again.
“Stop everything!”
A page ran onto the stage, knocking over a few of the singers.
“Stop everything! The Colonial Delegation has arrived!”
Chapter 3
The rehearsal dissolved into chaos. Mother rushed away to get ready. Sir Lefting tapped his baton and insisted the rest of the cast stay to rehearse the revisions. Lady Alma pulled me down the hall to her studio, still in my saltshaker costume.
I stood on the pedestal, catching my breath. Lady Alma looked more winded than I was, but she snapped and waved her hands like mad. The diamonds, salt crystal necklace, and silver hat flew off. My hair hung loose down my back. A servant entered the room.
“The King has already received the ambassador in the throne room! The Queen says to send Princess Salara to the Salara Gallery immediately.”
“She is still in her costume!”
“Immediately!”
I followed the servant out the door. Lady Alma ran behind me, flinging rubies onto the dress. The charm for holding diamonds kept them floating just above the fabric. I caught my reflection in a window and frowned. The gems made me look more polished, but the white dress was such an odd shape.
The servant bowed and left me alone in the gallery. I paced the floor, wondering how I should look when the ambassador entered. Sitting or standing? It was always dramatic to rise from a seated position and give guests a gradual full effect, as well as an excuse to offer their hand. But the light from the windows reflected unknown colors from my hair onto the walls. Everyone enjoyed that. If I stood in the center of the room, I could be in full sunlight and dazzle them as they entered.
The highest curtains, far out of reach, were closed. More light would make this scene more dramatic. I waved my hand and snapped my fingers, trying to open them. They did not move. I gave up and turned to the rows of picture frames lining the room.
The portraits in the Salara Gallery were arranged chronologically so visitors could witness the story of my beauty from birth to present. Mother and Sir Bristle had painted all of them. Sir Bristle, in spite of years of training apprentices, had not found anyone who could capture my beauty to Mother’s satisfaction.
The first picture showed the scene of my blessing. The Fairy Divinia held me, and a cloud of gold sparkles surrounded us and illuminated the crowd below. I had seen so many depictions of this moment I felt as if I had been there in another body, seeing my blessing through many viewpoints at once.
I examined Divinia. She did indeed wear a green dress. Her skin glowed from within as if she were a lantern. She cast a warm light over everyone in the scene. She was taller than Mother. Much taller than Lady Alma.
The next painting showed a crowd of peasants. Sir Bristle painted it the day of my blessing. The commoners’ faces were rapturous as my cries, now uttered with an enchanted voice, rang through the courtyard. Nobility watched from balconies and windows while peasants crowded into the courtyard below. One peasant had lifted his dark haired son onto his shoulders to give him a better view. I stepped back to get a better look and tripped on something. I lifted up my skirt to see.
My foot rested on an invisible platform. I pulled the silver bracelets off my wrists and fell back to the floor. I put both on my right arm and stepped backwards.
Nothing happened.
Good, I could leave them there until I had a chance to return them to Lady Alma.
“They were lucky to be there.”
His voice startled me. I turned and met the green eyes of a stranger. His skin was tanned darker than any fashionable member of our court, and his blond hair curled around his head in a wind-blown manner. He wore dark clothing a few months out of fashion.
“I am Sir Gilbert, ambassador from New Salaria.”
“Welcome to Castlemont.”
“I feel at home already.”
I smiled at him. A real smile. In spite of my calculations, he had caught me in an unguarded moment. He did not tower over me, but I had to tilt my head upward to meet his eyes. He was younger than I had expected. Far younger than any of the other ambassadors that had visited us.
About my age, actually.
Sir Gilbert gestured to the painting.
“Those peasants were lucky to be there. At the scene of your blessing.”
“I expect as many came to see the fairy as came to see me.”
“I very much doubt that.”
He offered me his arm. I rested my hand on it, and we proceeded down the gallery. He skipped a few paintings that showed my progress from dazzling newborn to dazzling toddler and stopped at one that showed me playing with three blond ladies in waiting.
“Your dress is quite interesting,” he s
aid.
“It is actually my costume for the opera tomorrow.”
“You still fit into that?”
“Oh, you meant the painting.”
He turned and examined me. I looked at the canvas. My dress in the painting was the shape of a castle. Literally. I had been unable to move my arms because of the towers sticking up from the square skirt. I couldn’t remember why Lady Alma had designed such a horrid thing.
“What are you in the opera? A triangle?”
“A snowflake.”
“After a battle?”
I looked down and laughed. The ruby jewelry did look like drops of blood against the white fabric.
“I wear diamonds in the opera. We are telling the story of the fairy snow. Highly symbolic.”
“I had noticed a certain amount of symbolism in these portraits.”
“Are you a painter, Sir Gilbert?”
“No. I spend most of my time as a sailor. Pirate attacks on the colonies provide plenty of opportunity for glory. But since this is a delegation of peace, I intend to join the poets in my free time. Shall I recite something for you?”
“No, please. Don’t trouble yourself.”
“Perhaps later then.”
“That really won’t be necessary.”
He laughed.
“Then you have my word as a poet. And poets value words most highly.”
We progressed to a painting of my sixth birthday.
“Ah, the day you received Seda. How charming. We have a copy of this painting at the colonial palace.”
I nodded, and we examined the painting. Seda had been added as an afterthought; the portrait had been finished before I received him as a gift. He sat next to me, sleeping peacefully. Wishful thinking on Mother’s part. The kitten never stayed that still.
“Ah, forgive my rudeness. I also have brought you a gift.”
He pulled something out of his coat and handed it to me with a flourish.
I took it and gasped.
I held a red rose, but made of gems. The petals and leaves were transparent and no thicker than those of an ordinary bloom. They had veins and the texture of a flower, but were unmistakably rubies and emeralds.
“Smell it.”
I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. It smelled like a real rose.
“It is magnificent.”
“I found it on a pirate ship after a battle.”
“With the Dragon?”
“You know about the Dragon?”
“Everyone knows about the Dragon.”
And no one would tell me about him. I watched Sir Gilbert’s face, waiting for him to decide that piracy was an unsuitable topic of conversation for a princess. Instead, he met my eyes.
“He burns ships and sailors alike. I have been lucky never to see him.”
“But he robs ships in colonial waters.”
“And somehow avoids our Navy. I would have chased him down if I had known you were interested in such things.”
“But you said he is dangerous.”
“He is just a man. I fear disappointing you more than any pirate.”
He stared into my eyes. I stared back, vaguely aware that he had clasped my hands in his. The green of his eyes mixed with swirls of hazel and something darker. Possibly the colors from my hair.
“Is that a Rosas Rojas?” Lady Alma asked. She pulled our hands apart, took the ruby rose, and sniffed it.
“It came from a pirate,” I said.
“It came from Castana. I haven’t seen one in so many years. Watch this.”
She pinched the stem. The rose glowed. She pressed it against my shoulder, and it stuck to my gown.
“At parties in Castana, noblemen give these to the lady of their choice. Rosas Rojas, the reddest rose, the most beautiful. The lady with the most at the end of the evening wins.”
“What does she win?” Sir Gilbert asked.
He smiled at me. His teeth looked very white against his tanned skin. He and Lady Alma had similar complexions, although his features did not look Castanian.
“Oh, generally marriage to her choice of the men in the room. I won once.”
Sir Gilbert and I stared at her. Lady Alma’s bright pink dress, covered in frills, flounces, ribbons, gems, and other embellishments I don’t know what to call, enhanced the cube-like shape of her body. Her towering pink wig turned her head into the base of a column of hair.
“No need to look so surprised. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“And who were your beholders?” Sir Gilbert asked.
“That’s enough of your sass, young man. Aren’t you a bit young to represent New Salaria?”
“Everyone else was afraid to sail so far.”
“Yet you made it with a skeleton crew.”
Sir Gilbert flinched.
“A what?” I asked.
“It is a nautical term. It means I have one sailor per job. No extras.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it means,” Lady Alma said.
She stared at Sir Gilbert until we both fidgeted.
“So the Rosas Rojas was stolen from Castana?”
Lady Alma pulled the rose off my shoulder and handed it back to me.
“It takes the souls of a hundred rose bushes to make one of these. Very precious.”
“Rose bushes have souls?” Sir Gilbert asked.
“Most things have souls.”
She stared at Sir Gilbert while she said it. He met her gaze this time and smiled.
“Sir Gilbert is a warrior and poet,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s much more than that,” Lady Alma said. “Lunch will be served shortly, and you must change, Princess. Please come with me.”
Back in her studio, Lady Alma snapped me into a deep yellow dress without saying a word. The dress had waves of dark orange and bits of light that moved like reflections in water. She braided my hair, then twisted the braids into a familiar shape.
“Not the butterfly chignon again,” I groaned.
“This is one of your most popular styles. And we have never done it with braids before, so this is new.”
My hair stuck out on either side of my head like a butterfly’s wings. Lady Alma secured it with a hair ornament carved from salt. Once the charm absorbed all the salt's magic, my hair would cascade down my back.
“You shouldn’t be so rude to an ambassador,” I said.
“He didn’t seem to mind. That was a nice gift he brought you. Rosas Rojas don’t often find their way out of Castana. A pirate must have stolen one from a lady traveling.”
“Like the Shadow stole the gems for my gown?”
“You were safe in the palace when that happened. The poor lady would have been carrying this with her.”
She shuddered. The motion made her body and the gems in her pink wig jiggle.
“I trust you can find your own way to the dining hall?” she said. “I have to meet with Madame Delilah. She’s making me a new wig to match your snowflake costume.”
I clipped the Rosas Rojas onto my shoulder while I walked. It didn’t match the dress, but I didn’t care.
Sir Gilbert sat next to me at lunch: a place of honor.
“I am sorry Lady Alma was rude to you,” I whispered.
“You owe me no apology, Princess.”
“But you are our guest and represent our colony! You deserve every courtesy, and I will make sure she apologizes to you.”
“Please, do not trouble yourself. I am sure it brought back painful memories for her to see something from her homeland. Do you know why she left her home country? Why she lives in exile?”
“She is not in exile.”
“She works day and night serving your mother’s whims- Forgive me, Princess. I should not be so blunt.”
“No, please. It is refreshing.”
“I have prepared a surprise tomorrow for your birthday,” Sir Gilbert said. “An excursion of sorts.”
“Make sure you check with my mother. She’ll have the day planned do
wn to the minute.”
He raised my hand to his lips. The salt charm chose that moment to dissolve. The silver grew dark, as if tarnished, and my hair cascaded down my back.
“I already have. She couldn’t resist the symbolism.”
The afternoon passed in a blur of opera rehearsals and dress fittings. Mother fretted about everything, and Father kept Sir Gilbert and the rest of the delegation busy discussing treaties.
I ate dinner in Lady Alma’s studio as she put the finishing touches on my gown for the evening.
“Do you know how many poets are speaking today?”
Lady Alma shrugged.
“Sir Quill, his new apprentice, some students from the Academy. Sir Gilbert has been invited to participate. Aren’t you curious to hear his works?”
“No.”
I would rather hear stories about his life. It seemed so exciting compared to mine.
“Good. I was afraid you were becoming rather smitten with him.”
My face, reflected in the mirrors around the room, turned pink. Thankfully the assistants weren’t here to comment.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, you haven’t let that flower he gave you out of your sight.”
It was true. I was holding the Rosas Rojas even now, stroking the paper thin ruby petals.
“It is beautiful. A rarity.”
“Every ambassador brings you beautiful rarities. They usually end up in a trunk somewhere in the museum.”
“Even you said it was rare. The souls of a thousand roses.”
“A hundred rose bushes. And you’ve known him for less than a day.”
“He intrigues me, is all. He is- honest.”
Lady Alma snorted.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Just don’t get carried away. Any favor you show influences national policy. Are you done eating?”
I nodded and moved to the pedestal in the center of the room. Had I been that obvious in my favor? Obvious enough to influence the treaty?
Surely not. Besides, Father had finished the treaty that morning. It would be signed by now. I could have little influence even if I tried.
“You should take on an apprentice,” I said, watching fabric swirl around her.
“Excellent diplomatic change of subject, Princess. When I meet someone good enough, I’ll take them on. Meanwhile, your mother is happy to supply me with a steady stream of idiots.”
Rook and Shadow (Salarian Chronicles Book 1) Page 3