Kore's Field

by N. C. Sellars

  Adam’s mother spotted me from within her throng. “My darling Alcestis,” she said, coming forward to take my hand. She looked me up and down, a crown of golden laurel shining in her hair. “How gorgeous you look. You’re as refreshing and fair as a warm spring breeze.”

  I felt my cheeks color. “Thank you, Madame. I’m so pleased to be here. Your royal barge is beautiful; I look forward to seeing Itomius from such a privileged view.”

  “I hope you find it satisfying,” she said, squeezing my hand before releasing it. “Make yourself comfortable, sit anywhere you like. You see the refreshments under the awning there. Help yourself as you wish. We’ll be casting off in just a moment.”

  I thanked her again and walked under the awning toward the stern of the barge. It was tremendously long; with over fifty women on board it didn’t feel crowded in the least. A huge spread of fruit and cheeses and warm honey pastries waited under the awning, just as the queen had said, and nearby stood a table of morning wines. I was still full from breakfast, so I accepted a cup of cold, golden wine flavored with lavender and wandered to one of the cushioned seats lining the inner edge of the barge. I was shocked to see the landscape already creeping past; the castoff had been so smooth and subtle that I hadn’t even felt it. A trio of musicians played quietly at the stern, their instruments complimenting the music of the gently flowing river. And so the pleasure cruise began.

  A practical, farseeing queen would know that a dedicated block of time with the most powerful women of Itomius was the perfect opportunity for a fledgling such as myself to make a positive first impression. I am afraid, however, that I did not behave like a practical, farseeing queen. Not because I didn’t want to socialize, but because I was so fascinated with the view. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the bank. One moment it opened to softly rolling pastures peppered with black cows or little white bundles that could only be sheep. Then it changed to woodlands, so dense and green that I wanted to climb out of the boat and explore their shadowy depths. Then, sometimes, the bank vanished as a fork from the Broom opened up and wound its way into the distance. I saw tiny blue ponds and willow trees and wild roses climbing the ruins of old pasture walls. It was so peaceful that with the gentle motion of the barge I could have easily fallen asleep. An option that a few of the ladies had chosen, if the faint snoring at the other side of the stern was any indication.

  Not wanting to disturb anyone’s nap, I took my empty glass and left it on a servant’s tray, then made my way to the bow. Here the breeze was strong and the sun shone brightly on the river. I sat on one of the long, cushioned seats at the edge and glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then stretched my hand out to touch the clear river. I gasped and sat up straight; I hadn’t expected it to be so cold. I took a deep breath, laughing at myself, and dipped my hand into the water and felt the icy rush flow between my fingers. I lifted my hand and let a few drops fall into my mouth, smiling at the pure, sweet taste. I wanted to scoop up handful after handful and drink until I could stomach no more.

  The barge cut quickly through the water, giving just enough time for me to catch a glimpse of the silver riverflowers below the surface. Brightly colored fish darted through the dense blooms, glinting like rubies, emeralds, and sapphires in the sunlight. I caught a riverflower by the stem and pulled it from the water to study it, but the exposure to air turned its gleaming petals to dull grey paper. Disappointed, I dropped it and watched the current carry it away.

  “Who are you?” said a voice.

  I turned and saw an exquisitely dressed little girl. She stared down at me, puzzlement scrawled across her face. But her expression was almost friendly compared to the hostility with which her companion regarded me. She was a young lady, not yet welcomed into womanhood, and when her critical eyes swept over my prone form I brushed awkwardly at my dress, painfully aware that even my finest court clothes looked like rags compared to these children’s garb.

  “Alcestis, of Myrilla,” I said, gripping the edge of the barge. “And what are your names?”

  The little girl curtsied in the Itomian style. Beautifully, I noted with envy. “I am Princess Norine of Itomius,” she said. “Youngest daughter of Prince Syrano, heir to the Itomian throne, and Princess Aveline, born of King Corneal of the Durwood.”

  I nodded absently, struck by her noble countenance. Here stood a child of seven or eight years, at the most, and she already possessed more regal grace and dignity than I could ever hope to learn in a lifetime. She wore her heavy satins and velvets like a second skin, and the jewels around her neck could have paid for my entire wardrobe several times over. I turned to the older girl, waiting to hear her name and pedigree, but she merely wrinkled her nose and glanced at Princess Norine.

  “That’s the barbarian queen,” she said to her, nearly spitting with contempt. “Mother told us she would be here, remember?”

  My mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. I simply sat frozen on the deck, smarting at being called a barbarian by some pompous child, when Princess Norine gave me a curious look. “What were you doing, just now?” she asked. “With your hand in the water like that?”

  I tore my eyes from the older girl’s cruel face, wishing my cheeks weren’t so hot with shame. “I was watching the fish, and looking at the riverflowers,” I said hollowly. “The riverbed’s covered with them. When you bring them to the surface they turn grey and dry up like paper.”

  The little girl moved to the edge. “Can you show me?”

  “I…would be happy to. Certainly.” I motioned for her to kneel beside me and looked into the water once more. The flowers were thicker here; when the princess put her delicate hand into the river and pulled on one flower, two more came with it. She watched in amazement as the flowers transformed into their papery, ghostly form, then laughed. Water streamed from her hand and up her satin sleeve, deepening the Itomian red into a dark, blood-colored stain. Again and again she plunged her hand into the river. A green fish swam between her fingers and she squealed in delight until a sharp voice called out behind us.

  “Norine! What are you doing?”

  I turned and saw a spectacularly tall woman glaring down at us. She wore red and white and seemed to glitter in the afternoon sun. Hundreds of diamonds and rubies were sewn into her gown; I had never seen anyone dressed so finely. I wiped my dripping wet hand on my skirt and rose unsteadily to my feet. Her eyes, much like the older girl’s, ran from the top of my head down to my feet, and then back again. What she saw did not please her, from the way her brow drew together, wrinkling her porcelain-perfect forehead.

  “You are the wife of Admetus.” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded too many times. “Yes, my name is Alcestis.” I left off my title. It seemed ridiculous to call myself a queen in the presence of this flawless woman. “You must be Princess Aveline.”

  “Indeed.” She gave me her scathing onceover a second time. I kept my eyes from meeting hers, lest I offend her. “How are you enjoying your stay?”

  “Oh, everything’s lovely.” I tried to stand as still and perfect as her, with my hands folded daintily and my chin held high, but the barge’s movement through the water made it difficult to keep my balance. I had to grip the handrail. “Adam—I mean, Admetus—is so happy to be here. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed seeing his homeland.”

  Princess Aveline nodded absently. “Yes, Itomian hospitality is legendary. We’re welcoming to all sorts of people. No matter where they’re from or what they believe.” Her gaze drifted to my bare arm. “Or how inappropriately they dress.”

  For a moment, I didn’t understand what she meant. But then I looked around and saw all the other women dressed in layer upon layer of rich, heavy fabric, with sleeves hanging past their wrists and stays laced so tight I wondered at their ability to breathe. I had taken such care in choosing my clothes for this journey, wanting nothing more than to present myself to Adam’s family as an idyllic Myrillan queen, only to have that image wrecked by my naked arms. Norm
ally I wouldn’t care; if a foreign princess had visited me at home and said nasty things about me I’d have just laughed. But what had this woman’s daughter called me? A barbarian queen. That’s what they would say about Adam, too. A capable prince of Itomius who lowered his value by marrying an animal who couldn’t even bother to dress appropriately on a state visit.

  One woman within earshot giggled, while another disguised her snorting laugh as a cough. My cheeks burned and I hugged my arms to my chest. “I didn’t realize…” I began. “I’m so sorry. I have nothing with me that isn’t cut in the Myrillan style.”

  Princess Aveline waved her hand, half-turned away from me as though bored of our conversation already. I looked past her and saw a handful of other ladies gesturing for her to come join them. “When we get back to the palace,” she said to me over her shoulder, “you may borrow one of my gowns for dinner.” She paused, then added, “After you wash, of course.”

  • • •

  When the cruise finally ended I couldn’t wait to disembark. Not long after my unpleasant conversation with Aveline the barge came to a particularly wide portion of the river. The captain turned the barge so we were sailing downriver and back toward the palace. Since we no longer had to fight the current, the return journey was much shorter. During that time I spoke with Adam’s mother and a few of her friends, all of whom were unfailingly kind and welcoming. They asked about Myrilla and had all sorts of questions about the planting season.

  Thinking of home kept my mind occupied and helped the last stretch of the cruise pass quickly. I was eager to see Adam and find out how his preparations were coming. I found the hunt very intriguing; wild boar and other such game are in short supply in Myrilla. Hunting isn’t a pastime for anyone, save the farmers fighting their garden’s pests. If you ever come to Myrilla hoping to hunt for sport, you’ll be gravely disappointed unless you want trophies of rabbits and crows.

  The royal barge pulled close to the dock and the servants secured it with heavy ropes before helping us out. Adam’s mother disembarked first, followed by Aveline and her daughters, and then myself. The green park stretched up the gentle slope, with the palace sitting at the top of the hill like a gleaming white crystal. A large semicircle of white pavilions trimmed in laurel were pitched where the slope leveled out. Some housed food and drink—a silver fountain dispensing three different colors of wine stood out in particular—while others contained divans and daybeds for anyone who wanted to rest in the shade. The air smelled of roasted meat and the fresh, clean scent of the river, and suddenly I felt famished.

  I walked up the hill toward the collection of pavilions and caught sight of a hand waving to me. I spotted Adam, filling two crystal cups from the intricate silver fountain, which was wrought in the shape of horns piled on top of each other. Pale purple wine splashed from the rim of a trumpet and into the cups in Adam’s hands. When they were full he left the shade of the tent and met me on the grass.

  “Currant wine?” he asked, proffering a cup. “I think you’ll like it. It’s not as sweet as the plum from yesterday.”

  I took a long draught; it was crisp and cold and just the slightest bit sour. Precisely what I needed. “It’s perfect,” I said, wiping my mouth. Adam was grinning like a fool and hadn’t touched his own cup. “You look awfully pleased about something,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Did you take all the best arrows for yourself?”

  He laughed, his face flushed from the sun. “No, I managed to leave a few for the others.” With his free hand, he gestured to the tethered barge. “I hope you found the pleasure cruise sufficiently pleasurable.”

  “But of course.” I paused, trying to summon a positive anecdote. “The river is beautiful, I see why you speak so fondly of this place.” I followed his gaze down the hill and toward the river, which shone like a silver ribbon draped across a swath of green velvet. Sipping my wine, I marshaled my next words carefully. “I met Princess Aveline. She’s quite…elegant.”

  “Much like a block of ice is elegant,” he said bitterly. He frowned down at his cup. “She’s not the friendliest sort; I’m sorry I wasn’t there by your side for your first encounter with her. Was she unkind to you?”

  The heat of embarrassment rushed to my cheeks and I was about to tell him everything. The snide voice she used, the cutting words, the way she humiliated me before all those important women. But then I noticed Adam’s mother under her own pavilion, reclining on a long chair laden with cushions. She caught my eye and paused in her conversation to smile at me and lift her hand in greeting. A rush of gratitude swept through me and I forgot all about Aveline. Queen Janelle of Itomius—the most powerful woman in our part of the world, and my husband’s mother—approved of me. That was all that mattered.

  I handed my empty cup to Adam, who placed it, along with his, on a passing servant’s tray. “How could anyone be unkind on such a beautiful day?” I said airily. “Now, why don’t you show me what you’ve been up to all morning.”

  He offered me his arm, obviously pleased. “Excellent idea, Alyce. I’ll take you to the armory. I believe Syrano’s still there. You can meet him at last.”

  Chapter 19

  I am the first to say I know little of weaponry or anything to do with war. It isn’t due to lack of interest; it simply was not part of my education. Since my uncle had intended to sell my hand in marriage to the prince willing to pay the highest price, I was taught only that which he deemed necessary. In his eyes I would have been a great success had I simply learned to dress well, sit and rise gracefully, and tell a lie through a dazzling smile. In fact, if my maids hadn’t taught me to read and write I wouldn’t even be sharing this story.

  As you might expect, the Myrillan armory during my uncle’s reign was little more than a dank underground chamber with piles of rusty swords and shields scattered throughout. Its greatest purpose was to serve as a hiding place for rats and roaches. Our army was famous for being ill-prepared and poorly outfitted; little did I know the extent of our impotence until I stepped into the royal Itomian armory. It didn’t look like a place to store weapons; it looked like a museum. A long, narrow gallery, dimly lit by torchlight with a cool, stone floor. Polished shields hung on the walls, inscribed with ancient characters I couldn’t recognize, interspersed with battle axes and swinging maces of every size. Full suits of armor stood here and there, as though filled with invisible bodies, and some held swords in their fleshless hands. Baskets of arrows and spears were clustered in groups organized according to length and purpose.

  Toward the back wall a tall, dark-haired man was sorting through a rack laden with wooden bows. He heard us approaching and turned.

  You may recall what Adam said about Syrano, that he was often deemed as blessed by the gods. I did not know what he meant until I saw Syrano myself. From the way Adam spoke about him I was almost expecting a male version of Aveline, endlessly sniping and critical. Or else a stodgy, humorless scholar who would find offense at my clumsy attempts at wit. But I was wrong on both counts. You never saw someone so peaceful and self-assured, as though he had no doubt of his place in the world. And it had nothing to do with his royalty. I had the feeling that even if he was born to a goat herder or a penniless beggar, he wouldn’t be any different. He had the most gentle, quiet eyes, trustworthy yet full of fun at the same time. He wasn’t your typical handsome prince—not nearly as handsome as Adam, I noted, the realization sending a ruby flush to my cheeks. But there was something very different about Syrano. I could only stare at him, unsettled and alarmed, as his face broke into a wide smile.

  “Queen Alcestis,” he said, not waiting for Adam’s introduction. “It’s good to meet you at last.” He bowed low and drew my hand to his lips.

  I managed a stiff curtsey in response. “And you, Prince Syrano.”

  “I trust you met my wife and daughters on the pleasure cruise?”

  “I did, yes,” I said, swallowing a little.

  He nodded, pleased. “You’ll meet my son, C
laren, tomorrow. It’s his first royal hunt so I’m making sure he gets plenty of rest. The hunting stories sure to be exchanged at the banquet tonight aren’t ones to encourage sleep,” he said with a wink.

  His strange countenance affected me greatly; I could hardly think of anything to say. I gestured vaguely to the abundance of weaponry and finally managed to ask, “How are your preparations for the hunt coming along?”

  “I daresay I’m as fit as I’ll ever be, though not as fit as your husband. I’ve never seen him looking so robust and sound. Marriage seems to agree with you, younger brother. There’s no greater gift from the gods than a loving wife.” He looked from Adam to my mortified face. “And from what Admetus has told me, you surpass them all, Alcestis. He’s talked of nothing else.”

  Adam’s embarrassment mirrored mine. “If you don’t mind, I brought Alyce down here to show her how I spent my morning, not to receive a discourse on marriage.”

  “Of course,” said Syrano, but the glint in his eye made me suspect he’d figured out more about our relationship than he was letting on. “I apologize for missing dinner last night,” he said to me, putting aside all the teasing. “I was attending to some business for our father. His health has given him trouble these past months. Traveling is much harder on him now. I’m sure my brother has told you.”

  “He hasn’t.” I turned to Adam and frowned. “You never mentioned that your father is unwell.”