by Serena Chase
I grimaced. “Remind me not to do anything really stupid, then, would you?”
Over the years King Jarryn became more cautious and methodical, though still determined in his cause. As he grew older he made wiser choices and the people’s love for him grew.
Under King Jarryn’s direction, a large Academy was built in Salderyn where he employed Andoven teachers to instruct his knights in the subjects of History and Truth. I paused over that.
History and Truth. Both were written as proper nouns, but weren’t they one and the same? Dyfnel claimed that truth must be gleaned by one’s heart, yet the King appeared to view it as something that could be taught. In recent years, the book claimed, he had widened the academic invitation to the entire Kingdom, regardless of their station.
I was touched by my father’s concern for the common people. A warm rush of color moved through my mind. I closed my eyes, picturing his face as I had seen it while reading his letter.
“You have met the King?” Edru questioned, surprised.
“No,” I shook my head. “While I was in Mynissbyr I read a letter he wrote and . . . I saw him. Sitting at his desk at Castle Rynwyk, I believe.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. “It was a fairly ghastly experience. I was quite ill.”
Edru’s eyebrows rose even higher. “It’s most unusual that you would be able to accomplish such a thing without proper instruction. I imagine it was rather uncomfortable.” He rubbed his chin. “I am caused to wonder what additional gifts you will discover with your other instructors. You may yet surprise a few of them, as you have me.” He tapped the book. “Shall we continue?”
I flipped back a few pages. “Why do all of the Ryn families have the surname E’veri? Why not use a patronymic like everyone else?”
“Not everyone else. When a woman marries, she takes her husband’s name. Over the past three centuries there has been an increase in the sentiment that love unions are the most beneficial to the Kingdom of E’veria. In that, the Kingdom has taken the example of the E’veri family to heart. There are still occasions when unions are formed for political or monetary gain, but the E’veri family always marries for love. Without a union based on love at Castle Rynwyk, chaos would reign.”
“How so?”
“Tension in a marriage not only affects the individuals, but the decisions they make. The Ryn’s most trusted advisor is his or her spouse.”
As he spoke, a giddy sort of joy welled up within my chest. My parents had loved each other. I wasn’t sure why it mattered to me, but it did.
But had he answered my question? Did his answer explain why all the Ryns shared the E’veri surname? Or was I too thick to comprehend something as seemingly simple as my own name? My shoulders drooped as a mild despair over all that lay ahead of me while on Tirandov Isle fell upon them.
“No, Princess Rynnaia, it is I who is being thickheaded.” Edru’s eyes narrowed as he read my thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair and paced a few steps away and back. “And no, I did not answer your original question.”
Relief sent a cooling mist through my mind.
“In the Ancient Voice, the word veri means purest truth as expressed in love. Veri is the word for an all-encompassing, sacrificial love that only ends with the end of life. Additionally, the word E’ expresses a bond similar to the marriage covenant, but stronger and without the possibility of dissolution.”
He paused and I thought on that for a moment.
“The Ryn family is given the surname of E’veri because they are inseparably united with the Kingdom itself.” Awe poured from Edru’s thoughts into his voice. “Whoever marries the Ryn takes on that surname as a vow not only to the Ryn, but to the Kingdom as well.”
I let out a breath, not realizing that I had been holding it while he explained. I understood, now, the significance of my surname, but this particular family tradition was an exceptional burden. Could I live up to that? Could I find a man worthy—and willing—to make that sort of commitment?
A familiar face crossed my mind.
“When a man marries a female Ryn he adds the royal surname to his patronymic and becomes King, ruling alongside the Ryn,” Edru said softly. “If you were to marry the knight, his name would become Julien de Gladiel E’veri.”
“I’m not—er, he hasn’t—I mean, we don’t—”
Had I ever blushed so swiftly? Or so deeply? I groaned. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“My apologies.” Edru cleared his throat and his own cheeks took on a pink sheen. “E’veri has been the official name of the royal family since the First King, Loeftryn de Rynloeft, established the house of E’veri and named his Regents and Successor. Taking the name consecrates a solemn and weighty vow. Only death can break that bond.”
“And I was born already sworn to it.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “You were.”
I stared at the teacher, seeing in his thoughts concepts that were completely foreign to my comprehension. I spoke haltingly, wondering if the words would sound as bizarre aloud as they did in my thoughts.
“So E’veria, the Kingdom itself, is united with love and . . . truth . . . as if those concepts are joined in a marriage bond?”
“Yes!” Edru’s smile widened. “You’ve got it!”
“Well, lovely! It’s so clear now.”
Edru’s small chuckle reminded me that he had a direct connection to my thoughts, not that the sarcastic tone of my voice had hid them well.
I wasn’t sure I was going to like this arrangement.
“Understanding will come to you in time, Princess. Truth will reveal himself to you in His good timing because He is that love. He is Veria.”
Now truth was a “he”? I nodded, still confused. For a moment Edru looked as if he would elaborate, but he thought better of it and turned my attention back to the book.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Why, in all these years,” I wondered aloud, “did the King not remarry?”
Edru had remained quiet, his thoughts subdued, while I had studied more of the E’veri family line, but when that question passed my lips his thought was like a shout.
She doesn’t know!
A swirl of gray blocked further insight as he spoke aloud, “Even if he had wanted to take another wife he could not. E’verian law would not allow it.”
“But,” I argued, flipping back a few pages, “Queen Tifryn married Sir Lig de Reshtel, but King Lig died in battle shortly after their marriage and . . .” I paused, tracing a path down the page, “four years later she married . . . Drysdin de Willet. If the law allowed her to remarry,” I flipped pages again, “just two generations before my father, surely it would have allowed him if he had wanted to.”
I thought about that for a moment and looked back at the book. Trying to form a question to his last comment, I once again noted the swirl of gray that kept his thoughts hidden.
“I thought we agreed not to block each other’s thoughts.” I rounded on him. “Yet you evaded my question about remarriage and are now blocking me from its answer. Why?”
“I am sorry to go back on my word, Princess Rynnaia.” His gaze was honest and his words rang true. “But there are some questions you will have to ask Dyfnel, because I was not aware that you did not yet know their answers.”
He waved his hand and the book closed. “You have processed quite a lot of information. Enough, I think, for your first day on Tirandov Isle.”
“But what about the Queen’s book?”
“In time. Keeping the Remedy in mind, there are more pressing matters than history.”
I could hardly argue with that.
“In the morning you are to have your first lesson with Celyse.”
I glanced beyond my teacher to the curved, west-facing window. The sun was nearly set. The room was so well lit by the light-effusive statuary and furnishings that I had not even registered the passage of time
I was preoccupied while Julien escorted me to my chamber. My mind barely regist
ered more than the next step in front of me. With so much going through my mind, I didn’t even notice when we stopped in front of a door.
“Your Highness?”
When I looked up and met Julien’s gaze my distraction disappeared. His left hand covered mine where it rested in the crook of his right arm and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from sweeping into his mind.
Colors swirled. Deepened. Within the effusive green and burnished gold rested unfathomable depths of honor. Of nobility and . . . something else. Something pure and so intense that I couldn’t put a name to it.
“Colors . . .” his whisper was shocked and the connection vanished. “I saw . . . colors.”
I gasped. “You did?”
“It was like you’d held a sapphire to the sun and it burst into flame.” He closed his eyes as if to recapture the image. “There was blue and red and orange and . . . gold. Bright. Moving like . . . flames.”
“That was me.” As soon as I spoke the words I knew they were true. “You saw . . . me, I think.”
Julien blinked. “How?”
“I’m not sure. I think I . . . let you.” I was nearly as confused as he was.
“That makes sense. I think.” He shook his head. “Maybe. Or as much sense as the Andoven have ever made to me.” He blinked and then smiled as he gestured to the door we’d stopped in front of. “This is your chamber.”
I flicked my hand at the door. Nothing happened. Julien arched an eyebrow and I shrugged and reached for the knob. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “No, I suppose not.” He pulled a key from his pocket. “May I? I don’t think we have security concerns here, but I’d like to walk through. Just to be sure.”
I stood in the doorway while Julien did a thorough sweep of the room. When he finished, he gave me a bit of a sheepish smile. “While you were in your lesson, Dyfnel reminded me that your father doesn’t even bring a guard along when he is here. But I’ve not been trained to let the Ryn enter an unfamiliar room alone.”
I laughed. “I wasn’t under the impression you’d been trained in regard to the Ryn at all.”
“Not this particular Ryn, of course,” he said. “But while we thought you were dead, your father remained the Ryn.”
“Ah.”
“Dyfnel said there would be fresh clothes for you in the wardrobe.” His brow furrowed. “He asked me to warn you that dinner would be a rather formal affair.”
“Oh,” I smirked, “that must be a nice change, since the Andoven are usually so relaxed.”
“Indeed,” he laughed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“My chamber is nearby. I’ll be back shortly to escort you to our ‘formal’ dinner. Until then, Princess Rynnaia.”
As I entered my chamber I had to wonder: was the formality of the meal to come for my benefit, or was it always so? And if it was for my benefit, would I even know how to respond?
Cazien had advised me to not let the Andoven intimidate me.
If only it were that easy.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Like every other room I’d visited in the castle, my bedchamber glowed, and the same dimensional, diamond-in-a-circle pattern I’d noticed in the library was repeated in all the fabrics in my room. The shape’s internal dimension imitated the way the light of a candle or a star stretches up and out in spires when squinted at, but that wasn’t what made it seem so familiar, nor did it explain why I was so drawn to it.
I turned to the wardrobe, wondering what sort of items awaited me inside. To each side of its mirrored front door, panels of inlaid wood depicted, again, the diamond-in-a-circle motif. Centered above my own reflection was yet another even more intricate copy of that shape, but the way the artist had rendered it made the design seem to jump out toward my eyes.
There was something about the design that spoke to my heart, but in a language even more complex than the Ancient Voice. It was as if this design was a key that could open a secret door, if only I could figure out a way to separate it from the wood. Lost in thought, I stared at it for a long time. And then my stomach rumbled.
Dinner. The sound reminded me. Julien will soon come for me.
I pulled the mirrored door toward me to find a riot of color inside. When I reached out to touch a gown fashioned in a brilliant shade of sapphire, the fabric caressed my skin like a cloud across a gentle sky. I’d never seen such rich cloth. I ran my hands along it, unable to put a name to the fiber, and pulled it out to get a better look.
A ring of elongated silver beads encircled the scooped neckline and cuff of each long sleeve. The fabric appeared heavy, but its touch was lighter than gossamer.
I laid the gown on the bed and stepped back to admire each exquisite detail. It was a gown fit for a princess. Even a queen.
I swallowed hard, closed the wardrobe door, and gazed at my reflection. Did I see a future queen looking back at me?
No. I did not.
All I saw was the red-haired version of Rose de Whittier; a simple country girl from Veetri.
The longer I gazed at my reflection, the tauter anxiety pulled my breath. I glimpsed hints of Rose, the ward of Sir Drinius, who doubted her uncle’s love. And if I squinted just so I could even make out a bit of Rozen the Squire.
But I did not see the Ryn.
I turned away.
My bag had been brought up and unpacked for me. I found my sturdy comb in one of the vanity’s drawers and I eschewed the question of my dueling identities and turned my attention to bringing order to my hair, but my hands and hair would not cooperate with each other. It seemed almost as if my hair was rejoicing at being freed from the bond of the hairpiece. It refused to bend to my desire to contain it atop my head.
Defeated, I let it hang loosely down my back but for the side pieces I secured away from my face using some silver-tipped pins I’d found alongside my comb.
I turned my head from side to side. It would have to do.
At least the pins will match the dress. I took a deep breath. Even if the princess does not.
When a knock sounded on the door, I jumped. But when I opened it, expecting to see Julien, I was even more surprised. “Oh!”
The Andoven woman’s eyes widened at my little squeak of a gasp, but she recovered quickly. She curtsied. “Your Highness,” she said. “I am Celyse.”
Celyse. The name of Dyfnel’s daughter. Another of my teachers.
“I thought—” I peered down the hall, confused. Where was Julien? “Am I to have a lesson?”
“No,” she smiled. “I came by to bring you this.” She held out a box. “It was your mother’s, given to her by your father when they were wed. It belongs to you now. And,” she added, “if it suits you, I will serve as your lady’s maid while you are here on the isle.”
“Please, come in.” I took the box from her outstretched hands and motioned her into the room. I set the box on the vanity, thinking it might be better opened in private. “I thought I might wear the blue gown.”
“A lovely choice.”
The gown slid on to my frame and the buttons were easily secured. Celyse retrieved a pair of beautiful blue slippers from the wardrobe and I put them on. But I did not look toward the glass. For some reason, the thought of looking at myself in this dress made me quiver. I did not want visual confirmation that I looked as ridiculous as I feared.
“It would be appropriate for you to wear this, as well.”
I turned toward Celyse. She held the box, now open, toward me.
Inside, a simple circlet rested on a bed of fabric very much like the gown I wore. The circlet was of the shiniest silver, formed into a vine of roses. In the front it dipped into a v-shape, which held an opalescent stone. Tirandite, I reminded myself. Rimmed in silver, it was cut into the diamond-in-a-circle shape and drew my eyes even more than its wardrobe counterpart. I ran my fingers over the stone and it glowed brighter at my touch.
“Th
e Emblem of the First,” Celyse said. “You are drawn to it, yes?”
“I didn’t know it had a name.”
Celyse removed the circlet from its case and set it on my head. She walked to the wardrobe and closed the mirrored door. “Come.”
“I can’t.” I closed my eyes, frozen in place. I didn’t want to see the contradiction I was sure would meet me in the mirror.
Celyse took my hand. I allowed her to lead me, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes.
“You are the Ryn. Be of good courage, child, and open your eyes.”
I did not recognize the princess looking back at me. She appeared confident, strong, and regal. Nothing like I felt at the moment.
The Emblem of the First flashed orange.
“Oh!” My hand flew up at the sudden heat on my skin, but it returned to a comfortable level of warmth so quickly that I was sure I must have imagined it. “Did you see that?”
“Indeed.” Celyse chuckled and met my eyes in the mirror. “Truth knows you, Ryn Naia,” she said. “In time you will recognize Him, as well.”
I took a step back and crossed my arms. “Are you related to Cazien de Pollis?”
“Yes, distantly.” Her smile was puzzled, but curious. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem to share his talent for cryptic statements.”
“Ah. Well, I claim no great fondness for pirates in general, but Cazien does amuse me. I did not mean to be cryptic. You have my apologies, Princess.”
Celyse moved toward the door. “Your knight approaches. Unless there is anything else . . . ?”
I shook my head.
She nodded and moved to the door. “Then I will see you at table.”
When the door closed behind Celyse I glanced again at the foreigner in the glass.
“I am Rynnaia E’veri.”
The whispered words sounded weak and didn’t match the conviction of my reflection. Unable to reconcile the contradiction of my appearance with my multiple identities, I moved to the door, opening it just as Julien raised his hand to knock.