by Sera Trevor
It was still several hours from orientation, so Jasen decided to take a nap. He was awoken by a knock on the door. The valet had returned. He was a serious young man by the name of Dennack, who had brought some additional clothes with him.
“What are those?” Jasen asked once he was in the room.
“I had taken the liberty of going through your wardrobe when you were away. It appears my lord was missing a few vital articles of dress. I had heard there was an accident with your trunk. Perhaps they were lost?”
Jasen had gone through his trunk earlier and hadn’t noticed anything missing. He examined of the items Dennack had brought with him, which included a jacket, shirt and breeches. “I know I have those items,” he said. “They’re hanging up in the closet!”
“Ah yes.” Dennack seemed a little embarrassed. “I thought my lord might want to sample a few items that were a little more…modern.”
And now Jasen felt embarrassed as well. He knew Grumhul tended to be a bit behind the times where fashion was concerned, but hadn’t realized it was quite that bad. “Right,” he muttered. “Well, let’s get on with it, then.”
Jasen stripped out of his shirt and trousers while Dennack arranged a few things. He was not used to being dressed. Grumhulians rarely stood on ceremony and tended to dress simply.
Once he was down to his smalls, Dennack approached him with something that took Jasen a moment to identify. “Is that a corset?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And I’m supposed to wear it.” It was a stupid thing to say, but he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea. Only women wore corsets in Grumhul.
“Yes, my lord.” Dennack slipped it around him. Jasen allowed it—what else could he do? “My lord might want to hold onto something,” Dennack said as he gathered the laces.
Jasen took a hold of the bed post as Dennack began to pull. After one overly enthusiastic tug, Jasen yelped. “Stop!” he wheezed. “I can hardly breathe!”
“My apologies, my lord.”
“Loosen this immediately.”
Dennack loosened the garment a little, and then a little more at Jasen’s insistence. Next came the stockings, which were made of fine silk. After that was the shirt, which had more lace at the sleeves than Jasen had ever seen. It was patently ridiculous, but Jasen bore it as best he could. A beautifully embroidered waistcoat followed.
It was when they got to the breeches that they ran into trouble. As soon as they started to put them on, it became clear to Jasen that Dennack had not brought the proper size.
“I assure my lord that they are the correct size,” Dennack protested. “I measured my lord’s other clothing and had our dragon-blessed tailor make the adjustments—”
“Well, he made a mistake,” Jasen snapped. “Obviously.”
“If my lord will lie down on the bed, it will make it easier.”
“I will do no such thing. I can barely move as it is! I’ll wear my own breeches.”
Dennack looked over at Jasen’s clothing in dismay. “As my lord wishes. But then the other clothing will not match.”
“Then I will just wear all of my things.” He didn’t care how unfashionable they were. Until he could get things to fit properly, he wasn’t going to subject himself to torture.
He undressed as Dennack got his perfectly serviceable suit from the closet, which was made of a very nice brown velvet that was only a little worn in places that no one could see, really. When he was dressed, Dennack presented him with the most ridiculous pair of shoes Jasen had ever seen. They were impossibly high. “How am I supposed to walk in these?” Jasen asked.
“It takes some practice. Please, my lord.”
Jasen was going to refuse them, but Dennack looked so miserable that he put them on. By the time all of this was finished, three o’clock had arrived. Dennack led Jasen down all of the complicated stairs to the first floor. A crowd of consorts were entering through the giant doors under the staircase. Dennack gave Jasen a bow and abandoned him to his fate.
Jasen followed the crowd past a long hallway. At the end were two larger doors which opened into the Great Hall. Servants circulated amongst them with trays of treats, but there was no place to sit down. At the back of the room was a platform that held the only furniture in the room—several fine chairs, on which sat a few distinguished looking older gentlemen and ladies.
As Jasen’s gaze left the platform and went back around to his compatriots, he immediately regretted his choice to ignore Dennack’s advice. Everyone was dressed in the highest of fashion. The women wore dresses with full, enormous skirts, which made their waists look impossibly small. The dresses were decorated with sashes of silk, ribbons, bows, beads, and even jewels. Their hairstyles were something to behold—tight, cascading curls for some, ridiculously tall hairstyles on others. Some wore wigs, while others seemed to have their natural hair, but it was all elaborately done.
As for the men, they wore fitted frockcoats that pinched in at their slim waists and flared outward into a full skirt. They had fussy lace cuffs and lace at their throats. Their breeches were, indeed, as tight as the ones Dennack had tried to persuade him to wear. Bows were tied at the knees of some. The men’s hair was somewhat more subdued, although there were still wigs and curls here and there. Their shoes were heeled, some even higher than his own.
Absolutely none of them wore anything remotely in the style of Jasen’s own clothing. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one to notice how sorely he stood out. People were sneaking looks at him out of the corners of their eyes. Everyone seemed to have hand fans, which they would open as Jasen passed by in order to hide their faces and murmur to each other. He heard a few snickers. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but it wasn’t working very well. He wished he had a fan for himself so that he could hide his face at least.
He was trying to duck away from a particularly mean-looking crowd when he stumbled. He would have fallen to the ground, but instead he crashed into someone. A strong, feminine arm caught him and helped him regain his balance.
“I am so sorry!” he stammered. He looked up, expecting to see a sneering face, but the expression on the lady’s face was more amused than anything else.
“No trouble,” she said. “I’m sturdy.”
And she was. She was tall for a lady—much taller than Jasen. She had a strong jaw and dark hair that was done up in a style so elaborate that he wasn’t sure how the whole thing was possible. Her dark eyes sparkled with good humor.
“Thank you,” he said.
“These shoes take a bit of getting used to. I was so terrible at walking in them as a girl that my governess didn’t let me take them off at all for two whole months.”
“Why do they insist on them?”
“I think it’s because it makes it harder for you to run away if amorous suitors set their sights on you. It doesn’t work, though—I can run faster in these things than most nobles can run at all.”
“That’s terrible,” Jasen said. “About making it so you can’t run.”
“Welcome to courtly fashion.”
“I wouldn’t welcome me quite yet,” he mumbled, gazing down at his own clothes.
She laughed. “You’re Lord Jasen, aren’t you?”
Jasen rubbed the back of his neck. “My reputation precedes me, I take it.”
“Oh yes. Your entrance last night has been all that anyone can talk about.”
“I was hoping that would escape notice.”
“Nothing escapes notice around here. Speaking of which—is it true that you went into a trance, ran naked into the draemir and fell into a swoon in front of a dragon, and then the king had to carry you back draped in his Drae’s cloak?”
“I wasn’t naked!” Jasen protested. “And I didn’t swoon!”
The lady let out a delighted gasp. “So it is true!”
Jasen was saved from having to answer by the blast of a trumpet. Everyone fell silent at once. After a brief fanfare, a short old woma
n in simple but elegant clothes mounted the platform, walking in front of the seated elders until she was front and center. Her mouth was a firm, thin line, and her dark gaze was as sharp as a dagger.
“Presenting the Lady Isalei!” the trumpet blower announced.
Everyone applauded enthusiastically. Once the applause had died down, the lady spoke. “My lords and ladies,” she said in a deep, clear voice, “I am happy once again to greet you, and trust you have settled in.”
There was a murmur of Yes, my lady from the crowd.
“I am pleased to hear it,” she said. Her mouth did something—widened a little, turned up at the corners. Jasen thought it might be a smile. “You all come from the finest families in the Allied Realms. You have received the best training at the most prestigious schools. And truly, you are a fine-looking lot. Young. Beautiful. Fashionable.”
There was a pause. Her mouth snapped back to its previous shape. “Well, I am here to tell you that none of that is good enough. You may have been the jewels of your little realms and provinces, but this is Strengsend—the most spectacular palace the world has ever seen, and you are all as temporary and unimportant as a daisy in the Bedrose Gardens. It is true that you are new blooms, but blooms fade—more quickly than any of you realize.
“And so, we have very little time to shape you into something less flimsy than a flower. The suitors arrive in two months. They are expecting to be charmed, dazzled, impressed. And they are looking for more than a pretty face. A pretty face they could get at any of the finer brothels. No. You are to be consorts. Those are positions of great responsibility, and I expect each and every one of you to take this matter very, very seriously. The entire course of your life is to be determined in these next few months. I will not be easy on you, but in the end, you will thank me. No matter how polished you think you are, I promise you, you still need work.”
“Some of us more than others.”
Jasen turned his head to see who had spoken. It was a pretty blonde girl at the center of that mean-looking crowd he’d been avoiding. Their eyes were all on Jasen. There was a smattering of laughter.
“Princess Polina,” Lady Isalei said. “How nice to see you again. This is your third year with us, yes?”
The blonde girl flushed and covered her face with her fan.
“When I ask a question, I expect an answer,” Lady Isalei said.
“Yes, my lady,” she squeaked.
“Hm. Even the loveliest flower won’t carry on for four seasons. Something to think on before you make disparaging remarks about others.”
“Yes, my lady.” As soon as Lady Isalei looked away, Princess Polina shot Jasen a venomous glare, as if the scolding she received was somehow his fault.
“We will now begin our assessments of your strengths and deficiencies.” She gestured to the elders behind her. “This is my council. They are here out of the goodness of their own hearts in order to help you achieve what they have achieved. You will not disrespect them by telling them lies. Answer our questions honestly so that we can get you into the best position possible. The potential for failure is great—but the rewards of success are even greater. Once you have been evaluated, you may take your leave.”
With that, the venerated ladies and gentlemen filed off the platform. Behind each of them floated a scroll and a quill.
“Lady Isalei likes to make herself seem more terrible than she really is,” Jasen’s companion said. He jumped at her voice. She laughed, but not unkindly. “You see? She’s in your head already. Relax. It’s not as dire as she makes it out. She acts like the nobles who come here looking for marriage are some god-like beings with lofty standards. Actually, most of them really are looking for a pretty face.”
“Why all of this, then?”
“Because no one wants to admit that picking out a consort and picking out a whore are basically the same thing. That would make many noble families pimps, and we couldn’t have that, could we?”
Jasen, as a Grumhulian, was not easily scandalized, but even he was shocked at her bluntness. “What’s your name?” he asked her.
“I’m—”
“Lady Risyda,” finished a stern voice from behind them. They whipped around to see Lady Isalei, her paper and quill floating behind her.
Lady Risyda curtsied. “Yes, my lady.” If she was nervous that her last statement had been overheard, she didn’t show it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“You know I detest lies,” she said, but there was the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. “I assume you still possess the many faults you exhibited at Court last year?”
“Oh yes,” she said cheerfully. “In abundance.”
Lady Isalei humphed. “Have you worked on expanding your magical talents?”
Lady Risyda nodded. A look of concentration came over her face. She thumped herself three times on the chest and opened her mouth. A small puff of smoke in the shape of a heart emerged from her lips.
“Clever,” Lady Isalei said dryly. “I’m sure that will command the respect of your servants once you are head of a household.”
“I can make it in the shape of a riding crop,” she said. “Or maybe a dismissal with no references, although that might be a little abstract.”
Lady Isalei sighed. The quill scraped on the page. “Your dress and bearing seem much improved this year. How is your archery?”
“Splendid. I won first prize at the Enoquan Archery Tournament last summer.”
“Good, good. And your languages?”
Risyda made a long, incomprehensible reply that was to Lady Isalei’s satisfaction. “And what about your licentious habits and poor attitude?”
“I’ve kept up with those as well, my lady.”
“I know you think you’re clever, and it’s true you can be amusing. That’s a fine quality to have. But if you are not careful, you are going to amuse yourself into a grim situation. This is your third year. You must make a match, or resign yourself for spinsterhood in your father’s home. Which is it to be?”
Lady Risyda didn’t answer right away. “I could always become a draedess?”
Lady Isalei snorted. She turned her terrifying attention to Jasen. “And you must be Lord Jasen.”
Jasen bowed. “Yes, my lady.” He hoped he didn’t sound too stilted.
“Of Grumhul.” She said it as if she had the same opinion of his homeland that Jasen had.
“Yes, my lady,” he mumbled.
“That means you were educated at Rodkiner Academy, yes? That’s the nearest, I think.”
“Ah, no.”
“Verar, then.”
“No, my lady. I was educated at home.” Which was partially true. He’d had tutors until he was twelve. Then his mother had died, and his father found better things to spend his money on.
“I see.” She looked him up and down. “Hair, face and figure are good, although a complete new wardrobe is needed,” she muttered to the floating quill, which scratched away on the parchment floating beside it. “Have you any special talents?” she asked, addressing Jasen again.
“Talents?”
“Perhaps you possess some magical ability.”
“No.”
“Athletic skills?”
“I’m good at mudball.”
It took a moment for her to absorb that information. “Mudball is not quite what I had in mind. I mean something of a more sophisticated activity, such as riding, archery, or fencing.”
“Oh. Then no, not really.”
“Perhaps you are well-read and can converse on many interesting subjects.”
“No.” With every no, Jasen’s voice got smaller and smaller.
“Musical aptitude? Painting? Dance, perhaps?”
Jasen shook his head to each one.
Lady Isalei pinched the bridge of her nose. “And how, then, did you make your way to us?”
“Someone lost a bet.” Which was true. His father, in a rare instance of good luck, had beat one of the royal re
cruiters in a game of cards. The man had no money left, so he’d given him a place for Jasen at Court.
“A bet,” the lady echoed. The quill quivered beside her expectantly. “Make sure his breeches are extra tight,” she told it. The quill obediently scratched that down. “That will do for a start,” she said to Jasen. “I would like to meet with you privately later on. You have a lot of catching up to do. I would also like to discuss some rumors I’ve heard.”
Jasen felt a lump in his stomach. “Yes, my lady.”
She nodded to both Risyda and Jasen. Jasen stared miserably at his horrible shoes. He was startled out of his self-pity when Risyda whacked him with her fan. “Bow,” she said out of the corner of her mouth as she curtsied. Jasen did so with such force that he nearly toppled over. Risyda thrust a hand out and steadied him. When Jasen looked up, he saw Lady Isalei’s lips curl up ever so slightly. “Good afternoon to you both,” she said.
Jasen thought the torment was over, but Lady Isalei had not walked three steps when she was confronted with the blonde princess from earlier. “My lady,” she said, curtsying. “I must apologize to you for my unseemly outburst. I don’t know what came over me. The heat of the room, perhaps. It’s making me dizzy—I am not myself!”
“Of course, Princess,” Lady Isalei said coolly. “Perhaps you should apologize to Lord Jasen.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said. She curtsied in his direction. “My deepest apologies.”
“Ah—thank you.” Jasen hoped that was the right thing to say.
Lady Isalei nodded. “I’m sure I will hear no more of trouble between you—any of you,” she said with a pointed look as Risyda.
“Yes, my lady,” they all said in unison. The Lady Isalei nodded again and left.
Jasen glanced back over at the princess. He couldn’t figure out why she was baring her teeth at him; then he realized it was probably meant to be a smile. “Silly me,” she said. “We aren’t even properly acquainted. I am Polina, princess of the realm of Intasnia.”
“Fifth princess,” Risyda said. “That is the proper address for your people, right, Polly? Because you have four older sisters. Older, successful sisters.”