The thought brings me up short. Why did Alyrra bring up the snatchers at all, let alone as the first serious question she has posed me? I remember Filadon’s sharp grin, the brightness of his eyes when I first pushed him about the snatchers last night. Filadon must have known Alyrra cares about this, which means surely, if she has brought it up, she doesn’t intend to give it up after a single conversation.
Alyrra waits, her head tilted toward me. I get the feeling she listens, so I may as well speak.
“I don’t know much of the palace or court, zayyida,” I say into the quiet. “But perhaps, if you cared to find out more, we could at least better understand . . .” What? The Darkness? How the snatchers work? I’m not sure exactly what I mean, other than that I want the snatchers stopped. “What’s happening,” I finish vaguely.
“There is that. Still, the people have other needs, do they not?”
Disappointment flares through me. Perhaps I was wrong about her, about what Filadon may have shared. But she is right—there are children going hungry on the streets here, families who spend every waking moment working to earn a meal or money enough to guard themselves from the weather. After a moment, I say, “Of course, zayyida.”
“Hmm.” She looks back out over the wall, then at me. “I have convinced Zayyid Kestrin to open a house of healing in the city to mark the royal wedding.”
“A house—of healers?”
“Yes. A place for people to be seen by healers, as well as a healer-mage to attend the more difficult cases.” There is a tightness to her features, her eyes suddenly shadowed. “It would be free to those who could not afford it, and a nominal cost for those who can. What do you think?”
A healer-mage . . . I look out over the walls and hold that thought for a moment. When I was born, my parents took me to a healer to see if anything might be done to help my foot, but there was nothing she could do. What we needed, she told my parents, was a healer-mage who could help guide the bones to straighten. When Baba finally found one, he would not entertain their request for even a single consultation. We were peasants to him, and he wished nothing to do with us. My parents rarely speak of it, but I wonder sometimes if that is why, years later, they chose to keep Niya with them, hiding her talent so she would not grow into such a person.
I clear my throat. My own history aside, the princess’s idea sounds a little too good to be true. “Where would it be located?”
She smiles, a quick sharp twitch of her lips that makes me think she is inordinately pleased with my question. “We’ve spoken with a number of guilds, as well as local community leaders, and identified a building in the southwest part of the city. The west side is perhaps the least affluent, but the south side is not much better. So we would strive to serve both. The project is already begun, and the first floor of the house should open the day after the wedding. I would like to have someone check in on the progress daily and report any issues that arise to me. I do not believe my other attendants are quite suited to such a role. Would you like it?”
I hesitate.
“Yes?” In that moment she looks young, hopeful. She reminds me of Niya; they might even be the same age. Only the princess has no older sister, no friend, not even a dependable attendant. And she is trying to remain aware of the needs of the people, and that is a wonderful thing.
“Yes,” I agree.
The princess smiles, her whole face warming. The line of her shoulders eases; I had not realized how tense she was till now. “Good. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I find myself smiling back at her, and I am suddenly, deeply grateful that Ani pushed me to come, because that brought me here, to this woman who wants to make a change in the world and thinks I am the one to help her. And perhaps, once the wedding is past, she will bring up the snatchers again, or else I will.
“I suppose there is one more thing we should discuss,” Alyrra says.
“Yes, zayyida?” I ask, unsure what else she might ask.
She eyes me with amusement. “What do you think of our little trip to the wall?”
“Zayyida?” She already knows I was concerned about it.
“Why do you think we came here?”
Is that a trick question? “To see the west side?”
“Look behind you,” Alyrra instructs. I turn to see the roofs of the palace rising before me. Covered in dark green clay shingles, the nearest roof is of a height with us; beyond it the roofs rise and fall. I can see elevated balconies and unshuttered windows, all more than high enough to see beyond the walls. I turn back to the outer view, trying to make sense of this. If Alyrra knew there were places within the palace to see past the wall, why did she allow her attendants to play such a trick on her? Unless she saw through it and used it to her own ends.
“I believe,” Alyrra muses, “though I cannot be sure, that this is the safest place in all the palace to have a conversation.” She allows herself a faint smile at my stare. I had not considered that even the royal family would have to watch their words. I glance to the side. The captain stands beside the stairwell. We are just far enough, and the breeze steady enough, that our conversation should have escaped him.
“Many of the halls and rooms in the palace have secret passageways running beside them. Conversations are easily overheard. It is something you will have to be aware of as well—both those who will listen in on you, and those who will manipulate you to learn what they wish.”
“I understand.”
She nods. “When I asked my attendants for a recommendation on where to see the city from, I had hoped you and I might converse in the hallways on our way there, far enough ahead of them that they would not catch our words. Instead, they provided us with the perfect location for such a conversation.”
She used them? Oh, now this I like about her!
“What I will ask you to do”—Alyrra flicks her fingers toward the city—“will stay between you and me until I am ready to share it with whom I choose, as I choose. So, I ask of you two things: your confidence, and your discretion.”
“You have them.”
“You are sure you wish to be my attendant, Amraeya?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
Alyrra smiles that same warm, open smile. “Then let us go back to my rooms and discuss how all this will work.”
Chapter
11
Melly and Filadon show their pleasure in the news I share with them in predictably different ways: Filadon bright and sharp and very self-satisfied, and Melly fairly glowing with pride. She makes certain only that the decision was truly mine, and then happily leads me off to a storage room to go through her trunks and find more fabric to have sewn up for the very many additional outfits I will apparently require in my new role.
“You’ll have an abundance of functions to attend, morning and evening,” she tells me when I express my disbelief that I will need any more than the dozen outfits we already ordered. “You’ll need more jewelry as well.”
Which will all take money. Mama and Baba gave me quite a bit, but I’ve used a chunk of it ordering clothes and jewelry the last few days. Perhaps I should have told the prince to just give me a new wardrobe as his “reward.”
“What I don’t understand is how the prince decided so quickly if it was such an important issue for him to vet me,” I tell Melly as we step into the storage room. Alyrra at least had taken the time to chat with me; Kestrin and I barely exchanged a dozen sentences.
“Don’t you? Did you ask Filadon?”
“Not really.”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she hefts open a trunk and lifts out a stack of fabric. “I expect the prince watched you for some time before approaching. He no doubt heard your conversation while you waited with Filadon.”
I stare at her. “But how—?”
“There are a hundred secret listening places in this palace.” A fact Alyrra already shared with me. “What did you discuss before he arrived?”
With a sinking feel
ing in my stomach, I admit, “Why I was willing to take the post and what I expected to get out of it.”
“He was listening,” Melly says flatly.
“But that would mean Filadon knew.”
“Yes.” Melly holds a sea-green silk, her finger tracing a swirl of lilac and white embroidery. “Filadon is—he will look out for you, Rae, but his first loyalty is to the royal family.” She hesitates. “He’s different here from who he is in the country. That’s part of why I’ve always loved visiting you.”
I look down, not sure I want to watch Melly’s face, the worry line that appears between her brows. “He is different,” I agree. “But he still loves you very much. That much even I can see.”
She sets the blue silk aside abruptly, her expression unreadable. “This is a good one, but I want a few more colors for you. Do you have jewelry to match?”
“I’ve got my grandmother’s ring,” I say, holding out my hand to show off the thin band set with a ruby, the setting itself made of two simple curves meeting on either side of the stone. If she doesn’t want to talk about her husband’s politicking, the least I can do is change the subject.
Melly snorts. “That’s a pinky ring.”
“Attendants don’t wear pinky rings? What is wrong with people here?”
She swats her hand at me. “Rae, half the time I can’t tell when you’re teasing me.”
“I do know that rubies won’t match sea-green silk,” I tell her. “But we ordered that zircon set yesterday with rubies and sapphires both. Won’t that do?”
“Ordinarily, yes, but from now on everything you wear should perfectly complement the rest of your appearance. For this, white gold with sapphires.”
“Do I look like I have five horses to spare to buy such trinkets?”
“Oh, Filadon will pay,” Melly says firmly. “This was his idea, after all.”
A very appealing offer, but . . . “It was my choice to become an attendant, and I’ll pay the price, thank you very much. Though,” I add grudgingly, “if you’d warned me just how much these women wear, I probably would have made a different decision.”
She laughs. “Filadon and I both knew. And we agreed that we didn’t want you to worry about the cost. The princess needs a dependable attendant; if you can do that for her, you’ll gain in the end, and so will we. That’s how politics works. Filadon would much rather cover the cost of a few dresses and earrings than pull back now, or not have served the family by introducing you to them. This is as much about the princess and you as it is about Filadon and the prince. So let Filadon manage it.”
I hesitate. “But—”
“No buts, Rae. We’re getting you a full wardrobe worthy of an attendant, jewelry included, and you are not going to argue with me. Now, what about this orange?”
Having seen the princess’s attendants, I know I need to dress the part. But that isn’t my concern; the cost is. Still, I’ve a rather strong suspicion that Filadon is playing a long game, and if he wants to pay the price of it, I should probably allow it. Especially given that my family can’t pay much more without selling off horses earlier than we’d like. So I settle myself beside Melly without further argument and consider the benefits of wearing orange.
My first morning as an attendant passes tolerably well. With the help of a pair of footmen, I shift my belongings to the attendants’ quarters where I will be rooming with Mina, the third of the princess’s attendants. It is she whom Alyrra assigns to show me around and acquaint me with my duties.
Veria Mina is of average height with a pleasant demeanor, her brown eyes steady. She isn’t striking, her very manner retiring, as if she’s learned to survive by not drawing attention to herself. Considering Jasmine’s hard beauty and cutting mannerisms, that might not be too far from the truth.
She waits patiently as I unpack my belongings, her hands busy with a bit of embroidery. Our room is exquisitely appointed, with gorgeous mosaics upon the wall, carved ceiling beams, plush carpets, and embroidered silk bedcovers upon the low beds. It takes me only half an hour to transfer my belongings to the remaining wardrobe and set out my writing box on the desk. I sent a long letter to my family last night, following up on the short note I sent upon arrival. But with the three to four days it takes for a letter to reach home, it will still be a little while before I hear back from them about my new position.
“Ready?” Mina asks as I turn away from the writing desk.
When I nod, she sets aside her embroidery and ushers me into the princess’s apartments. She reviews our duties as we go over the rooms. As Filadon assured me, we don’t clean—there is a pair of maids for that—but we do make sure the rooms are sparkling, help the princess select jewelry and outfits for her daily wear, and generally make sure she’s comfortable.
“But our true duty revolves around attending the princess when she goes out,” Mina explains. “She has asked that you attend her this afternoon. She’ll be going out for a drive with Zayyid Kestrin. It will be relatively private, and a good way for you to learn your role. Just follow Zayyid Kestrin’s attendant’s lead if you are unsure what to do.”
Follow his lead? “But won’t one of you come along?” I ask. I hadn’t thought I’d have to attend Alyrra at once, without either training or another of her attendants present to ease the way.
“I’m afraid not,” Mina says with a politely kind smile. “I believe the princess thinks this will be an easier start for you. We’ll go over all the possible scenarios you may need to respond to beforehand.”
“Thank you,” I say, since there’s nothing else I can do.
By early afternoon a blanket of clouds has blown in, thick but gentle in its grayness, offering the promise of a light spring rain. I meet the princess together with Mina in the inner sitting room. Alyrra inquires after my day and then leads me away, bidding Mina to take the afternoon off.
We join the prince in an outer courtyard, his own attendant three steps behind him. Kestrin greets Alyrra with unaffected pleasure, his features mobile with emotion, utterly unlike the detached, shrewd young man I met only yesterday. She smiles in response, her whole face warming. If Filadon hadn’t told me they’d known each other longer than the brief week or two since the princess returned to the palace, I wouldn’t know what to make of such a meeting.
“You have met my newest attendant, of course,” Alyrra says, turning slightly to nod toward me.
I dip into a deep curtsy, aware of the jerkiness of it as I reach its lowest point. Oh well. It’s not as if the prince didn’t notice when last we met. If he doesn’t mind, why should I care what his attendant thinks?
“Kelari Amraeya,” the prince says.
As I rise, he introduces his attendant, an impeccably dressed and distantly polite young man. The princess and I are then ushered into the waiting carriage, the interior all gilt edges and shining velvet.
Kestrin sits opposite Alyrra. They discuss first the project Alyrra mentioned to me yesterday—her house of healing for the poor folk of the city—and then the various preparations for the wedding. I take my cue from Kestrin’s attendant, sitting quietly and watching the buildings through the window. As the carriage rolls past the city gates, I glance about once, uncertainly, for I had not thought we would leave the city proper. But no one else takes notice, and since I have no idea of our destination, I keep my silence.
The carriage turns and the fields give way to a graveyard larger than I have ever seen. Great plots of land, lined with low stone boundary walls and filled with row upon row of graves, each marked by a few stones laid at the head. This must be where all the dead of the city are buried. The carriage rattles along, the first drops of rain spattering against the glass windows.
“We’re almost there,” Kestrin says, and the carriage falls silent.
We come to a stop by a plot with a slightly higher wall, the stones nearly black, unlike the more typical gray stones used to build the other walls. I clamber down after the prince and princess, pulling my cloak’
s hood up to shield myself from the gentle rain. Of all the places I’d imagined we were going, a graveyard was not among them.
Kestrin and Alyrra proceed through a wrought-iron gate held open by a footman. I glance uncertainly toward the other attendant. He nods his chin toward the gate and then steps forward himself. Right, then, to the graves we go.
We remain a good distance behind the royals, coming to a stop when they do. They stand before yet another seemingly anonymous grave, their voices nearly inaudible. It takes me a moment to realize it is the most recent of all the graves here, for there are no more after it, nor is there another row behind us. It is the last grave in a smaller yard, whose wall is more carefully crafted than all the rest. We have a tradition of burying all of our dead in this manner: a few stones at the head, no marks of distinction. But the graveyard itself creates a subtle distinction, one that must mean something. Just as the way that Alyrra and Kestrin face the final grave here means something.
“Is that the queen’s grave?” I ask softly, my eyes flicking to where the royal couple stands.
Kestrin’s attendant gives a single silent nod.
Here lie generations of kings and queens, princes and princesses. One day, the king and Kestrin and even Alyrra will be buried here. Today, Alyrra has come to pay her respects to her betrothed’s late mother.
I stand patiently, keeping most of my weight on my good foot. My newly made slipper is tight on my turned foot, its shape not quite right, and already I can feel where it’s rubbed away a layer of skin along the top of my foot. I’ll no doubt have blisters as well, along the side of my foot that rests against the ground. If only we’d chosen to ride through the rain, I could have at least worn my old riding boots, polished to a shine and a perfect fit. Never mind. There’s nothing to be done now but try not to limp more than usual.
Eventually, Kestrin and Alyrra turn and start back to the gate. But when they reach the carriage, they pass it, crossing the road to the opposite graveyard and following the wall to an opening: no gate here.
The Theft of Sunlight Page 7