by Sera Trevor
“But she was blessed with the power of water, wasn’t she?”
“Yes—and water is the essence of Life. Like the River of Life. So she can move through it.” She cocked her head. “Why don’t you believe me? She came to you, too, didn’t she?”
A chill ran down Jasen’s spine. “I-I don’t know. I had a dream, but I wasn’t sure if it was about her.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
“I don’t remember,” he lied. “Does your father know about your dreams?”
Erada bit her lip. “Mama said it would make him sad. She’s tried to go to him, but she can’t make her way in. She thinks he doesn’t want to see her.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Grown-ups are confusing.”
Jasen laughed a little. “Yes, we are.”
“She says Papa has a broken heart. But now you’re here, and you can fix it, right?”
Tears stung in Jasen’s eyes. “Oh, Erada.” He dropped to his knees so that they were level and hugged her. But he didn’t answer her question.
Erada returned the hug. After a moment, she pulled back. “So are you going to play mudball today? That’s what Lady Risyda told me, and she said I could come if I wanted to.”
“Yes. After lunch.”
“Hooray!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later!” She skipped off down the hall.
Jasen wiped the tears from his eyes before getting back on his feet. He looked up at the portrait of the queen consort again. She had told him not to be afraid.
It was advice he wasn’t sure he could take.
As promised, Jasen picked up one of the picnic baskets that had been prepared for the consorts and went off to find Risyda. He found her at the same field where he’d played mudball with the children weeks ago. Erada and many children were also there—they had already started their own game. Surprisingly, there were also about two dozen consorts. They all gave a little cheer when they saw him.
Jasen was bemused at the reaction and the size of the crowd. With the exception of Polina and her gang, no one was exactly mean to him, but most people kept their distance, as if afraid that his uncouth manners and general ineptitude might be catching. Risyda was a bit more popular—the fact that she found Court laughable ruffled a few feathers of the stuffier consorts who took things seriously, but her easy-going manner and sense of humor endeared her to as many people as she put off. But even so, he was surprised she was able to convince so many of them to play.
One of the lords approached him. It took a moment for Jasen to recognize him as Banither, Polina’s toady. He normally wore a wig, but today his head was bare, exposing shortly-cropped, spiky black hair. He looked a little like a porcupine. “Please allow me to relieve you of your burden,” he said, taking the picnic basket from Jasen’s arm.
“Er—thanks. Are you here to play, too?”
“Oh yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “I am aware that my normal demeanor is perhaps overly refined, but I am also quite adept at fencing. I have no trouble with athletic endeavors—indeed, I am quite eager to receive your instruction in this ‘mudball.’ It sounds very amusing!”
Jasen just stared at him.
Banither cleared his throat. “I’ll go put this aside then, shall I?” He whisked the picnic basket away, setting it down under a nearby tree beside several more identical baskets.
Risyda kicked the ball over to Jasen. “So the kids have taught us a little, but they say that you’re the real master. Care to demonstrate?”
Everyone was staring at him. Showing off for the kids had had been fun, but having all this adult expectation pointed directly at him made him want to turn heel and run all the way back to Grumhul.
Of course, that wasn’t an option at the moment. He put his foot on the ball. “Well, children aren’t hard to impress,” he began, figuring he should keep expectations as low as possible. He popped the ball up with one foot and juggled it between his knees before sending it soaring into the air and then caught it on his back, just as he had done for the children weeks before.
There was silence for a moment, and then the consorts erupted into applause—cheers, even. They seemed even more delighted than the children had been, which struck Jasen as odd. Surely these worldly consorts had seen better entertainment than someone kicking a ball around. Still, the positive attention felt good. He ran the ball down his arm and back to the ground.
“Oh, bravo!” said Banither, who was clapping the loudest. “How extraordinary! How athletic! I implore you to teach me!”
Jasen gave him a long look, still half- suspecting that he was mocking him, but he seemed sincere. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”
Risyda had acquired several balls, so Jasen split the consorts into smaller groups to practice basic volleys. Risyda, unsurprisingly, was a natural. And Banither took to it quickly as well—it seemed he hadn’t been lying about his athletic skills. While they were practicing, Jasen marked out the goals, with some help of Erada and the other children, who had stopped their game to come watch the adults.
Once Jasen was satisfied that everyone had the basic techniques down, he split them into teams. Soon, the game was in full swing. It seemed like all of the pent up frustrations of life at Court were expelled on the field. After the game, they all tucked into their picnic baskets with relish. There was no place for fine manners here—everyone ate with their hands, tearing their meat apart with their teeth like wild dogs and gobbling up the fruit with no regards to the juices running down their chins. By the end of the day, everyone was pleasantly spent—exhausted, but still giddy. There was a lot of raucous laughter as they made their way back to the palace. The consorts who hadn’t joined them laughed at their dirtiness, but it was all good-natured. Jasen’s earlier gloom had diminished—although thoughts of the queen consort and her strange message still lingered in his mind, he shoved them firmly back. There would be time to puzzle that out later. For now, he didn’t want to think about it.
Everyone went back to their rooms to clean up and get changed for dinner—it may have been dressing down day, but they were still required to keep up some decorum, and dining while caked in mud was definitely out of the question. Once Jasen was presentable, he went to Risyda’s room to meet her before they went down for dinner. She had the hookah out, which she offered to Jasen.
“Mudball is fantastic,” she said as Jasen took a puff. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages. We all should physically try to destroy each other more often—it’s a lot more honest than all the usual back-biting.”
Jasen laughed as he exhaled, which set off a coughing fit. “It was a good time,” he agreed. “I was surprised that so many people joined in.”
“I’m not. I think you should prepare yourself for your new popularity.”
Jasen blinked at her. “What are you talking about? I’m the laughing stock of Court.”
“You were the laughing stock of Court. Now you’re the star.”
Jasen bafflement only increased. “But—how?”
“Well, Lady Wulfa heard from her lady’s maid, Athel, who heard from Othwin, one of the king’s guards, who heard from Bely, a chambermaid who works in the king’s quarters, who overheard an argument between Minister Adwig and the king. Apparently, he doesn’t want to entertain any consort but you from now on.”
Jasen’s heart swelled. “Really?”
“Yes. But it seems Adwig won the argument, so don’t expect to get him all to yourself just yet.”
Jasen took another puff as he absorbed that information. “But if that’s true, shouldn’t everyone be trying even harder to pull me down?”
“Why would they? The battle is clearly over. With the suitors arriving tomorrow, the consorts will be turning their attention to prey they actually have a chance at snaring. And what better way to prove you’d be a social boon to a potential spouse than by showing you are an intimate friend of the future king consort?”
Jasen flashed ba
ck to the rapturous applause he had received on the mudball field. It all made sense now. “That’s so cynical.”
Risyda laughed. “That’s Court for you. Be prepared to have at least a dozen new best friends by tomorrow.”
Jasen blanched. “I don’t want a dozen new best friends.” A picture flashed through his mind: he could see himself at Court, surrounded by fawning nobles, all expecting him to be the perfect consort. The terror of that thought brought his dream about the queen consort roaring back into his mind. His stomach twisted. He actually felt he might be sick.
There must have been something in Jasen’s tone that made Risyda realize the extent of his distress. Her expression softened. “Hey,” she said, taking his hand gently. “Are you really that nervous? Is that why you were acting so strangely this morning?”
Jasen considered telling her about the dream, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. Instead, he simply nodded.
She pulled him into a hug. “I suppose you imagine you’re going to have to go it alone, you great big idiot,” she said as she pulled away. “I’m not about to abandon you to the wolves of court! I will be right there with you. I’ve done this twice already, remember? And despite what Lady Isalei would have you think, this isn’t a test—for you especially, since you already found your husband.” She grinned at him. “If you feel overwhelmed, come stand by me, and I will make you appear dazzling. All you’ll have to do is smile. All right?”
Jasen tried a smile but wasn’t quite sure he managed it.
Risyda handed him the hookah. “Have another puff, and then let’s go to dinner.”
Jasen took that puff—and another two on top of that—until his anxiety was sufficiently dampened. They made their way to the dining hall.
Sure enough, at dinner, a minor fight broke out when Lady Treburess slipped into the chair beside Jasen right as Lord Banither was about to take it himself. Risyda smoothed everything over. Just as she had promised, she handled most of the conversation, bouncing it around as skillfully as Jasen would a mudball. This surprised him—Risyda always made fun of the frivolous conversations they were expected to have, but she was really good at it when she tried. It was as if she were a candle that had at last been lit, and now she shone, her flame dancing merrily.
In fact, it seemed as if all of the consorts had their flames alight. Their collected mood had shifted again, from the messy playfulness of the day to a more calculated good humor, trying out their best quips and most coquettish ploys on each other. It was almost fun, in a strange way.
But there were two people not having a good time at all. Polina sat at the end of the table with Lalan. Polina clutched a wine bottle to her chest, taking long swigs from it as she watched the rest of them. Jasen couldn’t hear what they were talking about over the din of the conversation of the rest of the room, but Lalan’s expression was imploring while Polina’s was dark. She stared directly at Jasen. Their gazes met. Jasen tried to smile at her—he almost called out to ask her to join them, but she rose before he could say anything, clutching her bottle to her chest as she staggered from the room. Lalan trailed off after her.
“It’s not our problem,” Risdya said under her breath.
Jasen turned his attention back to her. “What?”
“Polina. She’s not our concern,” she continued, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “Trust me—she gets like this every year, and there’s no reasoning with her. Try not to engage with her at all from here on out. If she wants to sink herself, that’s her own business.” She eased back into the conversation around them before Jasen could reply.
At last, dinner ended, and the consorts dispersed—some to the parlors to continue their merriment, others to their rooms to prepare for the next day. Risyda invited Jasen back to her room, but he demurred. The bad feeling he’d started the day with was creeping back up on him. He just wanted to lie down.
He arrived at his room and went to open the door. Much to his surprise, the door opened before he could even touch the knob. A woman stumbled into him, nearly knocking them both over. The intruder tried to leave, but Jasen caught her by the arm. “Polina?”
Polina tried to shake herself out of his grip. “Let me go!”
“Not until you tell me what you were doing in my room!”
With a burst of strength, Polina freed herself, but she didn’t run away. She stood there for a moment, glaring at him as she swayed back and forth. “I was looking for you,” she said finally.
“Why?”
“Because I have things to say to you! Do you know how long I have trained for Court? Do you?”
Jasen shook his head.
“I have been in refinement school since I was eight years old. Eight! And I have worked hard. I know all the rules. I know all the dances. I can play the flute as beautifully as a bird’s song. My needlepoint is without peer. I am well-read, able to converse on any subject. I work hard to make myself lovely to look at. My sense of fashion is impeccable.” She blinked her eyes rapidly. “None of that comes easily to me. I spend every moment of every day working for this. And then you come in here and do everything wrong, but somehow, everything falls straight into your lap. How is that fair?” She wiped one eye with the heel of her hand.
Jasen reached out to touch her arm. “Don’t cry.”
She jerked away from him. “But you haven’t won yet,” she sneered. “Oh no, you have not. The king will grow bored with your innocent country boy act, and then he’ll come to his senses and realize that he needs someone who is his equal. And that certainly isn’t you!” She gave him a triumphant look, and with that, she marched away.
Or at least she tried to, but she tripped and fell flat on her face. Jasen got to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine! Get away from me!” But she started to sniffle.
“I’m not trying to beat you,” Jasen said. “None of this is a game. You have to stop thinking of it like that.”
She laughed through her tears. “If you think that, then you really are a simpleton.” She dried her eyes on her sleeve and got to her feet, waving away Jasen’s attempt to help her. She staggered off down the hallway.
Jasen waited until she disappeared around the corner before entering his room. What had Polina been doing in there? He glanced around. Because Rotheld hadn’t been on duty today, it was not as tidy as it usually was—Jasen hadn’t straightened up his things before he left. It was therefore difficult to tell for sure if anything had been disturbed. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem as though much was out of place. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Polina stealing anything from him, even if she was intoxicated. So why had she been in there? To spy on him?
If that had been her ambition, then she would have left frustrated. There wasn’t anything in his room that would have given her any information. But again, everything seemed in order—if she had been digging through his things, she hadn’t left any sign of it. Jasen decided the best explanation was the simplest—she was drunk and came looking for a fight.
Jasen shrugged out of his clothes and went to the bath tub. After giving it a few taps, it filled with warm water. He climbed in. The warm water soothed his body but didn’t do much to soothe his mind.
He finished up his bath and got ready for bed. It was early yet, but the day’s events wore on him. Besides, he would need all of his energy for the coming day. He expected it to be a challenging one.
Chapter 9
Jasen woke up just before dawn, with Rotheld arriving shortly after. He brought a small meal for Jasen, but Jasen was too nervous to eat. They didn’t say much as Rotheld got Jasen ready—they had already extensively discussed his wardrobe for this day. For his morning outfit, he would wear a beige frock coat with delicate flowers embroidered on the skirt. He also wore a blue boutonniere to signal that his interest lay with men entirely. Those who favored women wore red flowers, and those who had interest in both wore purple. The purpose of the first outfit of the day was to entice, not
dazzle—that effect was saved for the ball. Rotheld handed him a pale blue parasol—the consorts would be expected to spend much of the morning waiting for all of the suitors to arrive and thus required protection from the heat. Jasen thought that maybe wearing lighter clothes would be more useful, but he had long since passed trying to apply logic to fashion.
When Rotheld determined his appearance passed muster, Jasen made his way to Risyda’s room. Her lady’s maid was still working on her hair when Jasen entered, weaving violets into her dark curls, which hung loose over her shoulders. Like Jasen’s frock coat, her dress was also embroidered with flowers, although it was a soft yellow instead. Her purple corsage stood out against such muted colors. She also wore a gold necklace with a sunflower pendant.
If only her expression were as sunny as her outfit. She barely managed a smile when she saw Jasen in the doorway. Her maid curtsied and left them. “What’s the matter?” Jasen asked when she was gone. “You look so dour.”
She patted her hair as she gazed at her reflection, her expression still grim. “I’m just not particularly excited about getting up on the auction block.”
Jasen was pretty sure she wasn’t serious, but he still felt himself go a little pale. “There’s an auction block?”
At that, she laughed. She stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Only a metaphorical one. I’m sorry. Don’t let my sourness make you nervous. Today will go well, I’m sure of it.” She took a step back to examine him. “You look marvelous.”
“You do, too.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m passable, certainly. But I doubt anyone is going to notice me if I’m standing next to you.”
She’d meant it as a compliment, but it only served to make him feel more nervous. “Won’t they all be in for a shock when they realize this is an elaborate disguise and that I’m only a backward country boy after all?”
“So what if they do? You’ve already won over the only two people who matter.”