“I have to meet a business contact. There have been problems getting our latest shipment across the border,” he says. “I’ve already informed the steward. He’ll follow behind us with a carriage and our things.”
“And you want me to come with you?” I try to bite back a smile. The Performing is over, and by now, the queen’s justicars will have gone back to their usual posts. We could explore the city. I could go to the ribbon stalls, the horse markets …
He looks me up and down, appraising. “I don’t think you need to change. You look pretty clean.”
Chance butts my shoulder, smearing the sleeve of my dress with horse spit and bits of chewed hay. Papa visibly winces.
I cross my arms and fix him with a glare. Papa has taken me to a few of his business meetings, mostly in towns near our estate. But all too often of late, these “meetings” have turned into awkward presentations of suitors for me. He’s desperate to see me married off to a commoner, because if I marry below my station, I will forfeit my title. And in doing so, free myself of the obligation to attend the Performing.
I hate all the posturing, the arranged flirtations, but it’s not as if Papa is trying to marry me off for land or money. We have more than enough of those already. He believes it’s the only way to keep me safe.
Papa shrugs weakly, but then his brows knit together and a note of urgency enters his voice. “Remi, I know your mother and I have always encouraged you to take your time, but that singer at the Performing … she’s wasn’t like the queen’s other mages. I’ve never seen power like that, and this is just her first season. She will only get stronger. She will break us.”
The mention of Cadence twists like a knife in my gut. I’ve done my best over the past week to forget her. I think back to Baron Foutain and how he had wept with gratitude; the way the audience had chanted their thanks to the queen.
“Most of us already seem pretty broken.”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been to eight Performings now. Eight. Last week was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t think Dame Ava is capable of a showing like that. The queen always strives to up the ante, so next year it will be even worse.” Papa shakes his head and offers his hand for Chance to sniff. “I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to endure a life of this.”
“I knew her,” I blurt out. “The singer. I recognized her when Lord Durand introduced her.”
“What?” Papa whispers.
“Remember when I was small, and there was a girl I always used to play with in the mages’ wing when we stayed at the palace? That was her,” I say, even as anger clogs my voice. “Mama always said she found a patron. I guess she did.”
“That sweet blond girl with the little brown-and-white dog?”
I swallow hard. “That’s her.”
“When we first left the palace, you were so anxious to know where she had gone. You kept asking your mother to forward a letter for months.” Papa rubs his forehead, then sighs. “Does it make it better or worse, knowing what happened to her?”
“Worse.” The image of her standing onstage, shoulders hunched and forlorn, flits through my memory. I bite the inside of my cheek. We were friends. Best friends. And she hurt me. So why do I care that she might be hurting, too?
Papa squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ve known Jon for years. He’s a good man. Maybe you’ll like his boy. I gather Nolan is good-looking, and he’s doing very well in his apprenticeship. He will be a master mason someday.”
“Maybe.” I duck my head and busy myself with adjusting Chance’s throatlatch so Papa won’t see the tight press of my mouth.
Nolan very well might be handsome, and the rank of master mason is certainly nothing to sneer at, but I’ve never been interested in boys. I had a crush of sorts on my friend Elspeth a few years ago, but when I told her, she stopped talking to me. Our kind of people, she said, her narrowed eyes and curled lip betraying her disgust, don’t engage in that sort of depravity. Her words cut me.
Here in Bordea, the mages and commoners love and marry as they please—not caught up in ideas of bloodlines and inheritance. They don’t force their children to learn outdated, Sapphire Age ideas about sexuality and gender or arrange marriages for political gain and dowries. But for generations, all the noble families we know have resisted change.
If I had been born a mage, I would be free to flirt with pretty girls, and no one would judge me for it. I’ve imagined myself sometimes: strolling through the market with a mage’s badge pinned to my collar, winking at the shopgirls or seducing a fire-haired tavern wench over a mug of ale. Not that I know anything about seduction.
I’ve never actually talked to my parents about it. Sometimes I think about telling Mama. When we sit together in her parlor, she talks about the progressive beliefs of the mages, and how, with a different leader, Bordea would be stronger for incorporating them. But then I think about Elspeth, and the look of disgust she gave me. I never want Mama to look at me like that.
I wonder what Elspeth would say if she knew my parents were trying to marry me off to a commoner. It’s not done among “our kind of people,” either. Maybe someday soon, I’ll be able to trust my family with the truth about me.
Just … not today.
I plaster a smile on my face and turn to Papa. “I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes.”
“Good,” Papa says with a nod. “I’ll meet you in the yard.”
* * *
We trot most of the distance to Cannis, stopping only once to relieve ourselves and allow the horses a drink. Papa’s mare is tall, with a long, ground-eating stride that forces Chance to break into a canter to keep up with her. By the time we reach the pub where Papa has arranged the meeting, my pony is struggling to pick his feet up. He leans his weight on my hands through the bit, and my shoulders cramp. When I finally dismount, he gives a relieved sigh and doesn’t even fidget as I tie him to the post.
“Rook will be along with the carriage soon,” Papa says as we turn to go inside. “We’re only a few blocks from the hotel. He’ll take the horses there. I thought it might be nice to walk.”
I nod. The insides of my legs ache. It will be good to stand. Chance has a comfortable, lumbering gait, but his back is so wide that my legs have to stretch to get around him. Eventually, I will train him to go sidesaddle, but for now, while he’s green and still spooks at shadows on the road, I ride him astride.
I wonder what Nolan will be like. All of the young men Papa has introduced me to so far have been perfectly nice, with good manners and pleasant looks. I can pass an hour in their company easily enough, even if I don’t feel anything romantic toward them, but Papa starts each meeting with such hope in his eyes, and I hate the way his expression shifts, disappointed, when I reject another boy and another opportunity to escape.
“Are you excited?” Papa asks.
I roll my eyes and he smiles, mistaking the source of my embarrassment.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I have actual business with Jon today as well, so we’ll have things to discuss. We won’t be eavesdropping on you and Nolan.”
We arrive at the pub, and I follow Papa through its jovial outdoor garden. Papa pulls the door open, and a burst of warm air and hickory smoke envelops us. The pub has a practical but cheery atmosphere, with tables made from simple, untreated wood and a bar counter stacked with a row of ale barrels. Its patrons seem to be mostly merchants and craftsmen, who swap loud stories over plates of fried fish and new potatoes. Some of them look up and stare as Papa closes the door behind us. I self-consciously rub at my sleeve, where Chance’s slime is still visible.