Here, though, the gathered nobility of Bright Bay and Hawk Haven were not yet a pack except by the commands of their kings. True, the nobles of Bright Bay had sworn oaths to uphold the new-made king, Allister of the Pledge, and his son and heir apparent, Shad Oyster. Part of that swearing was the understanding that Shad would someday reign not only in Bright Bay but in Hawk Haven side by side with his betrothed, Crown Princess Sapphire.
In Hawk Haven the change had been less apparent. King Tedric still ruled, though his white hair and wrinkled features made clear that he could not last many years longer. His heir apparent had been drawn from approved ranks and those who had been passed by in her choosing—most notably Elise and Firekeeper herself—were pleased with the selection.
However, though Hawk Haven's nobility had been willing to accept King Tedric's selection of his heir, many had been less than pleased at the truce he had made with his nephew Allister. Until just that past summer Bright Bay and Hawk Haven had been sworn enemies. Now they were allies, their union into one nation reigned over by Sapphire and Shad a thing many of those gathered there could anticipate living to see.
And not all of them, Firekeeper thought, are pleased at the thought of that seeing. Truly, this is not a pack gathered here to share a kill. It is a grouping of many packs, chancing on the same good hunting grounds and trying to decide whether or not to share the herds.
The realization did nothing to quiet Firekeeper's soul, and she wondered whether Earl Kestrel was very brave, or only very foolish, to sit there and laugh.
Chapter III
The wedding was a grand affair. As it was also in some sense the wedding of their two kingdoms—though that part of the marriage would not be consummated until both King Tedric and King Allister were become ancestors—made it an even more important event. For any of the heads of Bright Bay's five Great Houses to refuse to attend would be tantamount to declaring that the oaths they had sworn to King Allister were so much air.
None made that choice, though House Lobster had a new head—Duchess Faelene, the younger sister of the previous duke, Marek.
Old Marek Lobster had chosen to ally himself with Queen Valora. Indeed, he hardly had a choice, since his son, Harwill, was married to the queen and had taken the new title of King of the Isles. The uproar in House Lobster had been quite fierce, a source of gossip in both court and streets, but it had been simply a more public version of the choices being made in each of the noble families.
Yet old Duke Lobster was present after a fashion. Newly retitled Marek, Duke of Half-Moon Island, he had come as the Isles' representative to the wedding. To refuse him would have been to threaten the tense neutrality between the two realms. Duke Half-Moon's retinue was small, almost humble. He had brought no guards, no more servants than were perfectly proper for himself alone. As he was a widower, he did not even have a wife accompanying him.
In addition to his sister, several formidable women of Duke Half-Moon's generation were present. Foremost among these was Grand Duchess Seastar Seagleam, the late Gustin III's sister, and King Allister's aunt. Lesser in rank but perhaps more interesting to the gossips was Lady Brina Dolphin. Smiling with gracious vindictiveness, Lady Brina made herself highly visible at every gathering.
Gustin HI had divorced her in order to marry Lady Viona Seal, who would bear him Valora. Valora's defeat was seen by many—including those of the Seals who had allied themselves with the Isles—as House Dolphin's vindication.
Although Shad and Sapphire would celebrate their marriage a second time before the nobles of Hawk Haven, several of Hawk Haven's noble houses had chosen to send representatives to this wedding as well. The Great Houses of Goshawk and Gyrfalcon were each represented by their Heads. Such would be expected of Goshawk and Gyrfalcon, for Sapphire was a granddaughter of those houses. Duke Peregrine, Queen Elexa's brother, had planned to attend, but illness—really nothing more than advanced age—had forced him to send his heir. Wellward's example, however, shamed the remaining houses into sending at least a token representative.
Earl Kestrel was present for his house, but also at the express invitation of Princess Sapphire, who had desired that Lady Blysse serve as a wedding attendant. The Barony of Archer was represented by the entire family, again because Princess Sapphire had wished Lady Archer to be a member of her wedding party.
Still, no one really expected any of Hawk Haven's Great Houses to challenge King Tedric's choice of heir. Their protest would be against the public promise that someday the two kingdoms, rivals these hundred years and more, would be united.
"And so," said Firekeeper to Blind Seer as she mused over these complexities while bathing the morning of the wedding, "they sniff each other's backsides, trying to decide whether they are to be friends."
"And Lady Melina's absence and that of her children," the wolf replied, "becomes the raw wound in this great love-fest—a wound with dirt in it, for Duke Gyrfalcon, her own elder brother, is here."
"Here and howling to the moon about his sorrow that his younger brother Newell turned traitor," Firekeeper agreed.
"A loud howl does not mean a true hunter," Blind Seer said pedantically, "only an open mouth."
Firekeeper's brow furrowed. She, too, had trouble trusting the head of a family that had whelped both Newell and Melina Shield.
"Elise says that after the wedding, everything will be all right."
"Which wedding?" the wolf asked.
"I don't know."
The gown Firekeeper was to wear as a wedding attendant featured two parts: an underdress with a gently scooped neckline and long full sleeves, covered by a floor-length surcoat. The ensemble's essential simplicity—necessitated by the short length of time which the hastily recruited corp of seamstresses had been given to do their work—was disguised by the richness of the New Kelvinese silk from which it was made. The underdress was snowy white shot with silver, while the surcoat was an elaborately patterned crimson brocade.
The wolf-woman struggled into the underdress without much difficulty, but was glad when Derian knocked at her door as she was trying to reach the lacings at the back.
"May I?" he asked, running the cords expertly to and fro.
"If you don't," Firekeeper said practically, "I don't know who will."
"You're welcome, too," Derian said, thumping her gently on top of the head with his knuckles. "Today of all days, mind your manners."
Firekeeper sighed. "Must I wear these?"
She held up two dainty slippers, sewn from the finest dyed leather and decorated with scarlet tassels.
"You must," Derian replied without hesitation.
"And the hat?" Firekeeper said hopelessly, pulling on over her tousled hair a sweet little conical headdress bordered with a modest padded circlet.
Derian looked up from tying a bow at the top of her lacing and laughed heartily.
"Yes," he said when he had his breath, "you must wear the hat, but not like that. You look ridiculous."
"I feel," Firekeeper retorted, a trace sulkily, "ridiculous."
"Here," Derian said. "I'll show you how to do it right. Thank the Horse that I have a sister!"
He plucked off the offending headgear and took a brush to Firekeeper's hair. The thick, brown mass had grown a great deal since the early spring when she had stopped chopping it short with a minting knife, long enough to be pulled back into a short queue—if she pinned back the stray ends that tended to tumble into her face.
"Today," Derian said, "a queue won't do. Not only is that a man's style, but you can't have a little bush sticking out from under the hat. We'll fan your curls out so…" He arranged her hair to his satisfaction, "then put the hat on, tilted slightly to the back so the circlet frames your face and the cap covers the dome of your head. There! Now that's pretty."
He showed Firekeeper her reflection in the mirror. She studied herself for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
"That does look better," she admitted. "But why wear a hat? We'll be inside the castle
. It won't rain."
"Because," Derian said cheerfully, "the crown princess wants you to wear it, the earl wants you to wear it, and you don't want to cause trouble over such a little thing—not since you agreed to be an attendant."
"I didn't know I'd need to wear a hat and shoes." The latter were a particular sore point and she glowered at the inoffensive slippers.
"You'll be happy enough for boots when winter comes," Derian predicted. "Consider this a rehearsal."
"Never needed boots before," the wolf-woman growled.
"Correction," Derian said. "You never had them. I assure you, you'll find them a great improvement over wrapping rabbit skins around your feet."
From where he had been dozing in the sunlight, Blind Seer yawned and chuckled.
"Derian is right," he said. "You'll take boots when winter comes. Consider this dressing fancy protection against a different kind of cold."
"Now look at yourself," Derian said, turning her before a full-length panel of polished silver, "and tell me you don't look quite the lovely lady."
Firekeeper again studied her image in the mirror. She still had difficulty with the idea that reflected images bore any relation to reality. Still, she had to admit that the person in the mirror looked rather like the other ladies she had seen bustling about the castle. She nodded grudging acceptance and let Derian fasten a pearl and ruby choker about her throat.
"Thank you," she said.
"And now for the crowning glory," Derian said with a chuckle. He extended her Fang, the hunting knife that had once belonged to Prince Barden. "I'm told you have permission to wear this strapped around your waist beneath, the surcoat."
"That's right," Firekeeper replied smugly. "My Fang does not leave me. Princess Sapphire agreed and even had a new belt made for it."
"Wise," Derian said, casting a critical glance at the weather-stained leather of Firekeeper's more usual gear. "Really we're going to have to teach you how to maintain leather."
Once the new belt was strapped loosely about Firekeeper's hips, the knife was not very visible. The part that was most so—the hilt with a large cabochon-cut garnet in the pommel—might be mistaken for a peculiar piece of jewelry.
Now that her own costume was complete, Firekeeper examined her friend's attire. Derian was dressed in knee breeches, waistcoat, and frock coat, all of a deep forest green. The color set off his red hair nicely. His stockings and shirt were off-white, and the silver buckles on his brown shoes shone with polish.
"You look a gentleman," she said approvingly.
"My mother helped me select this outfit along with several others when I went home after the war," Derian said. "She has a good eye for expensive clothing."
"And ambitions for her pup," Blind Seer added. The wolf was in a rather sour mood because, despite Firekeeper's repeated requests and Princess Sapphire's approval, he had been barred from the wedding.
Firekeeper knelt next to him and rubbed his head, ignoring the coating of fine silvery-grey hairs this left on the red brocade of her surcoat.
Derian forbore from commenting on this sartorial offense, only sighed.
A rap at the door summoned them. Elise, attended by Ninette, waited in the corridor. She was dressed identically to Firekeeper. The combination of strong red and silvery white went well with her fair complexion and made her golden hair seem to glow. Ninette was clad in a neat gown of salmon pink. Ironically, it was more elaborately embroidered than the one worn by her mistress, since it had come from her existing wardrobe, rather than having been hastily pieced together for the occasion.
Firekeeper gave Blind Seer a parting hug and hurried to join Elise.
"You look lovely," Elise said, reaching out to brush the worst of the wolf hair from Firekeeper's surcoat. "Now, remember, take small steps."
Firekeeper sighed, recalling lessons in deportment.
"Have a good time, sweet Firekeeper," Blind Seer called after her.
To all the listeners but one, his words came as a low, mournful howl.
In the interests of political harmony—and because all had assumed that it would be augmented by her mother and three sisters—the bride's party was very small. It consisted of Elise, Firekeeper, and the groom's young twin sisters, Minnow and Anemone.
These last were perfectly identical, still slight and slim, with straight silvery-blonde hair and eyes of a translucent green. Whether or not they would be beauties was still open to question, but there was no doubt they would be striking.
The little girls had celebrated their twelfth birthday four days before and were still trying to live up to the solemnity of their great age. Most of the time they managed, but every so often they would burst into pealing giggles. They were giggling when Firekeeper, Elise, and Ninette entered the room where all the bridal attendants were to wait before processing into the Sphere Chamber for the wedding.
Dressed in gowns of identical style to those worn by Firekeeper and Elise—though their underdress was gold-hued silk and their surcoat a sea-green brocade with a watery texture to the fabric—the twins had crowded up to a door and were peeking through a crack, giggling at what they saw.
Curiosity overcame Elise's first impulse, which was to drag the little girls back and remind them of the solemnity of the occasion. She noticed an older woman seated in a corner keeping a careful eye on them and decided that they must not be quite out of line. The woman had "old nurse" written in every line of her pleasant face and would not have brooked disorderly behavior.
"What are you looking at?" Elise asked, gliding toward the twins. The new slippers that had been supplied with the gown were superbly crafted. She made a mental note to learn the cobbler's name before she went back to Eagle's Nest.
Minnow—or was it Anemone?—started back guiltily, but both twins' gazes were bright with excitement.
"We were looking at the people coming into the hall," Minnow said. "It's so funny watching them."
"They bow to each other," Anemone added, "and say nice things but when they think no one can see them, the looks on their faces!"
"Certainly you've seen the like before," Elise said. "You've grown up in this court."
"Not really," Anemone said with charming honesty. "Father's title was duke before he became king, but it was just a courtesy. Everyone knew that we—his children, I mean—weren't going to be anything, so we didn't get invited to these big events."
"Father was," Minnow clarified, "and Mother, but not us. Anyhow, we were too young even if anyone had wanted to invite us. The ball on Bridgeton was the first time either of us went to a formal event."
And, thought Elise a trace bitterly, because everyone thought your father might become king—though then they thought he was destined for Hawk Haven's throne, not Bright Bay's—then everyone wanted to treat you like ladies.
She pushed the memory from her, knowing that her bitterness came from the memory of Jet Shield—then her betrothed husband—dancing attendance on the two little girls.
"Then was the coronation your first court event?" Elise asked.
"Pretty much," Anemone said, "and then we were sitting in front with Father and Mother and didn't get a chance to watch the guests."
Firekeeper had been standing back diffidently listening to the conversation. There was something guarded about her posture, a tension that reminded Elise that the wolf-woman was even less familiar with such events than the twins. They at least had been raised on the fringes of such things. Firekeeper had lived at Hawk Haven's court, but had always been a stranger there.
"Does everyone remember," Elise asked brightly, "what we practiced at rehearsal? Shall we run through our parts one more time while we wait? Ninette, you stand in for the crown princess."
Ninette did so, blushing slightly. Elise suspected that internally her maid was counting down the moments to when she could be excused to join the other favored servants on the back tiers of the balcony reserved for them.
They had just finished going through their parts and
Ninette was straightening Firekeeper's cap, which had come askew again, when a herald in green and gold strode into the room. The nurse paused in the middle of inspecting the twins to make a deep curtsy.
"The Crown Princess Sapphire," announced the herald rather unnecessarily, for the lady in question was immediately behind him.
If the attendants' gowns had been chosen for simplicity, that must have been to free more seamstresses to work on the bride's gown. Although not so ornate as to be at odds with those worn by her attendants, Sapphire's gown was an elegant tribute to the dressmaker's art.
Her undergown was close-fitting scarlet silk, cut square across the shoulders, but fairly high to the throat—modest yet revealing. The shimmering white surcoat was quite elaborate, possessed of hanging sleeves that trailed to the floor, a sweeping length to the back that recalled a cloak, and elegant fur trim that began at the square neckline, then decreased slightly down the front to create a dainty breastplate before splitting into two sweeping rows that accented the wearer's hips.
Crown Princess Sapphire was no mere slip of a girl. Wielding a sword and handling a warhorse had made her broad in the shoulders, muscular in the arms. The clinging silk of the gown hinted at the strength of her long legs.
Like her attendants, Sapphire wore a headpiece, but whereas theirs were maidenly caps, equally suitable for either the little girls or the two slightly older women, Sapphire's shouted her importance—a jeweled crown laid over a veil that framed her forehead and spilled down her back almost to her elbows. Sapphire's blue-black hair was even longer, falling past her hips, a vibrant contrast to the surcoat's silver-white.
She looks wonderful, Elise thought, and yet somehow odd. I suppose it's because I never thought to see her wed wearing any color but blue.
Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart Page 4