We reached the end of the trees and Adam leaned forward in his saddle. “There it is,” he said, pointing. “Haddenford, seat of Itomian kings.” He looked so happy I couldn’t help smiling, though when I took a proper look at the palace my nerves tripled. It was the grandest, most beautiful structure I had ever seen. It could have easily swallowed six Myrillan castles, and still had room to spare. The stone seemed to gleam silver in the early morning sun. The palace sat atop a sloping green hill, surrounded by a thin wall with a number of gates already open to welcome strangers. It seemed weak in terms of self-protection, especially when I considered the fortifications of Myrilla’s castle. But then I glimpsed the troops spread out both inside and outside the fragile wall. Hundreds of soldiers, all battle ready and laid out in perfect order like pieces on a chessboard. And those were only the ones I could spot at a glance. I had no doubt dozens more stood interspersed among the massive crowd of Itomian citizens who had gathered to greet us.
Adam nudged his mount into a fast canter; the horse, sensing its return home, pricked its ears and snorted, tossing its head like a war charger riding in from battle. The other horses caught the scent of its excitement and raced happily toward the open gates. As we approached, the seemingly endless columns of soldiers turned toward us and saluted, welcoming their prince to his place of birth. The center column parted, its soldiers stepping aside in perfect rhythm and pressing the crowd back, to reveal the grand steps ascending to the palace. At the top I saw an elderly man and woman dressed in crimson and silver. I swallowed nervously as Adam dismounted and helped me down from my horse, though I did my best to smile for the crowd. They seemed so pleased to see us; dressed in their strange Itomian clothes, they shouted greetings in their foreign-sounding dialect and threw garlands of laurel onto the path before us. I held Adam’s arm as we made the slow procession toward the steps, and gripped it more tightly when I noticed with great alarm that a number of people in the crowd were holding leads to cows, sheep, or goats.
I put my mouth near Adam’s ear. “Why are there animals here?”
“The herders want blessings for their livestock,” he practically shouted in reply.
I opened my mouth to ask why they didn’t go to their temple to ask for a blessing, but stopped when I remembered Itomius had no temple.
The marble steps gleamed like ice as we ascended them. They were steep, and with the great weight of my train dragging behind me I was a little flushed and out of breath when we reached the top. Adam bowed to his parents and I curtseyed in the Itomian style, though for all my practice the result was still a little unsteady. All formal pretense vanished, however, for as soon as we straightened up Adam’s father burst out laughing and pulled his son into his arms, and the queen kissed my cheek like we were intimate friends. She took both my hands and looked me up and down. “You must be Alcestis,” she said, her voice the essence of grandeur.
“Yes, Queen Janelle,” I replied, as Adam had instructed me.
Her piercing green eyes wrinkled at the corners. “For once, my son did not exaggerate in his letters. You are an exquisite beauty.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew I should thank her for such a generous compliment, of course, but my mouth couldn’t form the words. Instead I sank into another curtsey, even lower this time, hoping it would please her. I guessed right, and when I rose up she smiled with approval. Adam turned to greet his mother, then stepped back to present me to the king.
“Father, this is my wife. Queen Alcestis,” he said, his voice nearly trembling with excitement. I curtseyed once more on my tired legs and was rewarded with a small bow in return. “Alyce, I’d like you to meet my father. King Verian of Itomius.”
King Verian gave me a warm smile. With his black hair and thick beard he looked nothing like Adam, apart from his laughing eyes. Instead, Adam was a nearly perfect copy of his mother. Her golden hair was flecked with silver and she stood no taller than my shoulder, but she could have easily passed as his older sister. They looked so friendly and had such an air of kindness about them that my concerns diminished considerably. I almost felt happy when they nodded for the servants to open the great wooden doors. As we passed through them I noticed that in addition to their impressive height, they were embellished with intricate carvings of livestock and birds. The pictures’ edges had softened and worn with age, almost vanishing into blankness in spots where wind and rain had shown the least mercy.
Adam saw me looking. “Menuas, the first king of Itomius, carved those doors himself,” he whispered. “The legend says they were made from a single piece of wood, cut from the center of the kingdom’s largest tree. The gods told him to use the scraps to make his arrows, and they were so true to hitting their targets that he won every battle without losing a single man.”
I found that particular piece of folklore very hard to believe, but nodded anyway. The entry hall opened up before us with dark wood floors covered with carpets dyed Itomian red. I expected to see candles and lamps lit on every surface, but there was no need. Instead, huge windows stood open straight ahead to a round courtyard, which I guessed served as the hub of the palace, with the rooms jutting out from it like spokes on a wheel. When the last of our servants passed through the great doors, bearing our trunks and gifts of goodwill, the doors swung shut with a very final-sounding bang.
Adam’s parents led us through one room after another, each more splendid and lovely than the last. Servants dressed in white moved like pale shadows in the background, watching us pass. The very air was steeped in splendor and elegance; I had never seen any palace like it. For that is truly what it was: a palace. The castle in Myrilla couldn’t compare, with its boxy rooms built from brick and stacked on top of each other to create the illusion of stateliness. Not to mention our penchant for walls: walls surrounding the castle grounds, walls encircling the castle itself, walls around the gardens and groves. At Haddenford, everything was open. Great, airy rooms sprawled out before us, the high ceilings supported by slender pillars, and everything hewn from that lovely silvery marble. It reminded me of the stories I’d heard about the great palaces of the Greeks, though warmer and more welcoming.
We stopped in a large chamber, with a sweet-smelling fire burning on the hearth and plush carpets underfoot. One wall was nearly covered from floor to ceiling with an enormous tapestry depicting a hunting party in pursuit of a wild boar. I knew nothing about boar, but I’d never thought them particularly menacing until I saw the sharp tusks and fierce eyes stitched into the one shown in the tapestry.
The king and queen sat on cushioned chairs—the prettiest I’d ever seen—and invited us to join them, but Adam held up his hand.
“We will gladly take rest with you in a moment,” he said in the courtly Itomian manner. “But first, if you would suffer us this one indulgence, my bride and I would like to present you with a few gifts. They represent our gratitude, both for your grand kingdom and your role as its monarchs and our royal parents.”
He nodded to me; it was my turn to speak. Queens always handed out gifts on foreign visits, according to Adam. I stood very straight and tried to smile graciously, though my heart was pounding at a furious rate.
“The first gift is for your kingdom’s fields.” I gestured to the servant holding the large sack. “This is our finest grain, used to sow the wheat fields of Myrilla. We present it in the hopes that it will nourish your people and livestock so that your kingdom’s future will be hale and hearty.”
The servant placed the sack before the king and queen. Next, a small sapling was brought forward, studded with pale green leaves and a few tightly closed buds. “For your castle and courtyard, we bring you a young rose tree, the very best selected from our gardens. It blooms with golden roses, native only to Myrilla, so that your people will always have grace and beauty within sight.”
I licked my lips as they admired the young tree, and signaled for the final servant to step closer. I told myself it was going well, and that I had no cause to be ne
rvous, but when they turned their attention to the last gift my voice shook a little.
“Our gift for your hearth and home is within this chest, which King Admetus”—I stumbled slightly over his formal name—“crafted from an iron ash tree, another one of Myrilla’s unique natives.”
The servant placed the dark, gleaming chest in the king’s outstretched hands. He and the queen spent several minutes admiring it, complimenting Adam on the panels’ intricate carvings. Adam thanked them graciously and winked at me, and I couldn’t help smiling in return. The queen lifted the latch and opened the lid a crack; almost instantly a sweet perfume wafted from the chest, filling the great chamber. There was a collective intake of breath and the room fell silent. Even I smiled dreamily at the scent, I’d forgotten how lovely it was.
“That is the most delightful smell,” said Queen Janelle, peering into the chest. “What is it?”
“It’s a cutting of a snow lily root,” I told her. “There is only one left in the world, and we have it in Myrilla. That piece will grow wherever it’s planted, no matter how poor the soil, though it thrives best in complete darkness.”
The queen closed the lid, though the perfume lingered. “This is a most generous gift,” she said warmly. “Thank you both.” Still smiling, she kissed my cheek and embraced her son, and then the king rose to do the same. The queen murmured something to a servant, who left and reappeared seconds later with two more in tow, all bearing trays. They placed them on the table in the center of the seating area, then slid into the shadows once more.
“Please, sit,” said Adam’s father. “Refresh yourselves and tell us all about your journey.”
Adam did most of the talking, and I was grateful for it. The days of riding had left me famished and the spread of food was welcome. I enjoyed soft, ripe cheese spread on hard rolls, and clusters of candied figs and almonds. The sweet plum wine was almost as thick as syrup and so strong I had to sip it very slowly, lest it turn my tongue into a cumbersome piece of wool held captive in my mouth, causing me to slur and blurt out ridiculous things. Halfway through my glass I abandoned it altogether; I didn’t want a telling flush to creep across my face.
When Adam finished his plate, he glanced around. “Where’s Syrano? I thought he’d have made his grand entrance by now.”
“He’ll arrive tomorrow, sometime in the morning,” said the king. “Just in time for the arms inspection.” He stood and rubbed his hands together. “Now why don’t you show your queen around the castle and grounds, while I escort mine upstairs for a rest before dinner?” With a farewell nod, he held out his arm for the queen, and they departed the chamber.
Once they had gone Adam turned to me with a wide smile. “Well, Alyce. What do you think?”
I couldn’t begin to answer his question. Between the incredible reception at the palace gates, to the king’s and queen’s kindness, to the tangible majesty filling the palace itself, I couldn’t articulate the flood of emotions rushing over me. “It’s—it’s wonderful,” I finally stammered, gesturing at the rich tapestries, luxurious carpets, and gleaming columns. “All of it. Your mother and father are so gracious. And…royal. I know it sounds absurd, but I’ve never been around a king and queen like that. I’m terrified of saying something to offend them.”
“You won’t, don’t worry. They’re absolutely mad about you.”
“I hope you’re right.” I crossed the room and rested my hands on the sill, looking out into the courtyard. A large fountain stood in the center, featuring a stone hunter pursuing—of course—a wild boar. The boar faced the hunter, poised for challenge, with water dripping from its tusked jaws. For his part, the hunter held an arrow fitted to his tautly drawn bow, his aim squarely fixed on the boar. A stream of water poured from the arrow’s point, splashing into the dark pool below. “Tell me more about your brother,” I said over my shoulder. “You don’t speak of him often.”
“I don’t have much to say about him,” Adam answered glibly. Just when I thought he was about to refuse me completely he joined me at the window. “It’s not that I dislike him, and while I have my moments of bitterness, I’m not usually jealous of him. You must try to understand, Alyce. Growing up, Syrano was always my parents’ pet. Their favorite child. Everyone’s favorite, really. Our nurse told us that when Syrano was born, he didn’t cry, but laughed instead. The gods have favored him since birth, so everyone says.”
I frowned, watching a brown speckled bird perch on the edge of the fountain, then bravely plunge into the pool for a bath. It washed itself for a moment, then shook the water from its wings before flying away. “And you think they favor him more than you?”
He rested his forearms on the sill, watching the bird, too. “I used to think so.” His eyes met mine and crinkled at the corners, as they only did when he was trying not to show how happy he felt. “Now, I must say, I’m not so sure.”
Chapter 18
Later that evening we dined privately with Adam’s parents, eating in the family chamber, away from the great hall. They were warm and welcoming and asked us all about Myrilla and our lives at home. I had the loveliest time, though I was exhausted from the journey and doing a bad job of hiding it. After puddings Adam’s father caught me yawning into my napkin and graciously suggested Adam escort me to our room. I don’t even remember the walk to our designated chamber; I only recall a vague memory of stepping out of my gown and falling into bed, still wearing my stockings beneath my shift.
When I woke the next morning I experienced a brief panic. It took me a moment to remember I was not in my bed in Myrilla, but in the finest guest room Itomius had to offer. The great white bed was carved from ice laurel and large enough for me to forget I even had to share it with Adam. I glanced over and saw his side vacant, as usual; the downy covers were thrown back and rumpled, glowing pale blue in the morning sun.
A sharp knock sounded at the door and Silda, the maid assigned to attend me during our visit, entered the room and bowed. “We’ve drawn a bath for you, Queen Alcestis,” she said quietly. “Your breakfast is just there on the tray. After you finish, if you like, we can help ready you for the day.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. Not since my illness the previous autumn had someone bathed and dressed me, but it seemed ungrateful to decline. I took the tray in my lap and ate fruit and cheese, followed by an enormous mug of fresh, foamy milk. When I had my fill I let Silda lead the way to the adjoining bathing chamber, where I spent a luxurious hour learning precisely why Itomian baths are so famous. If you ever visit and have a chance to experience one, you will see what I mean. The massive tub was filled with ice, which was then melted and heated to steaming perfection. The result was water so clear that it appeared blue against the white marble.
Silda washed my hair and combed oil through it—a spicy, sweet scent I didn’t recognize. Another maid scrubbed my body until my skin was as soft and smooth as the day I was born, and a third cleaned my teeth, fingernails, and toenails. They helped me out of the tub, wrapped me in a warm sheet, and instructed me to recline on a stove divan covered with cushions while I dried. Light poured through the tall, narrow windows as the sun rose in the sky, and birds flitted in and out of the chamber. Once I had sufficiently dried, Silda’s helpers smoothed a cool, rich cream into my skin while Silda dressed my hair. I felt so relaxed that I couldn’t stop smiling. Only when Silda mentioned I would soon be joining the other royal ladies did a small flame of anxiety flare in my belly.
“Has the queen planned an activity for today?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant as I tied the sash of my dressing gown.
Silda’s face lit up. “Oh yes, she has quite a treat in store. While the men are choosing their weapons for the hunt she’s arranged for the women to take a pleasure cruise on the royal barge. The banks of the Broom are in full bloom and you’ll be able to see all the kingdom’s best pastures. The weather is perfect for it; I think you’ll enjoy yourself immensely. When you return you’ll join the men for a pi
cnic on the lawn.”
She opened my trunk and laid out my clothes. I chose a lightweight gown in blushing pink, thinking the sun would be quite hot on the river, and sifted through my flowers and greenery for a handful of gardenias. I sewed a cluster of the fragrant blossoms onto the waist of the gown, then tacked several smaller white flowers across the bodice to affect a windblown appearance.
“That’s beautiful,” Silda murmured, fingering the folds of the gown. “You truly have a talent for making things pretty, Queen Alcestis.”
“You’re very kind,” I told her. I wanted to add that I hoped her countrywomen would agree, but that seemed tactless. Instead I held out one more gardenia for Silda to pin in my hair. She obliged, and when I had removed my robe she wrapped the feathery gown around my body and fastened it securely. With one last appraising look in the glass, I slid my feet into my sandals and followed Silda from the room. The corridors were already bustling with activity; servants dressed in white ferried trays to and from rooms, chatting amiably to each other. Each one stopped when they saw me and bowed deeply. Their sheer number amazed me; I had no idea one palace could house so many servants.
When we reached the rear side of the palace, Silda led me through a second pair of great doors. A lovely park spread out before us, green and lush and sprinkled with laurel trees, and cut through with a path of cream-colored paving stones. At the far end lay the Broom River. The royal barge was tethered to a wide dock; I had never seen such a beautiful watercraft. Painted Itomian red and trimmed with silver gilding, it looked like a gleaming jewel floating on top of the sparkling water. I followed Silda along the path, watching the rabbits play among the trees and dart to their burrows at the sound of our approaching steps.
Several women had already boarded by the time we reached the barge. Silda bid me farewell and said she would be waiting to help me change for dinner upon my return. Without her I felt a little uneasy; I knew none of these women apart from Adam’s mother, and she was surrounded by courtiers. Each wore the same Itomian style of dress: richly colored gowns sewn from heavy brocades and velvets, with high collars and sleeves to the wrist. Precious stones glimmered from their fingers and ears and necks, and sometimes the gowns themselves. I lightly touched the gardenia tucked into my hair and forced my lips into a confident smile.
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