“I’m not,” I say with perfect honesty. “However, I can always do something abysmally stupid when I meet the princess and then she won’t have me.”
Filadon pauses mid-stride, his mouth half open.
“There’s always a way out if you look hard enough,” I observe. “You’re a bit too rule-bound in this court of yours.”
“We’re something,” Filadon agrees. “What, exactly, I leave to you to figure out.”
Chapter
10
Filadon guides me up a back stair and through a guard room to the royal wing. There, he knocks at one of several exquisitely carved and inlaid doors. A beautifully dressed young woman answers. She curtsies and then looks past Filadon to me, brown eyes sharp.
“My relation, Kelari Amraeya, here to see the princess,” Filadon says.
“Of course. You are expected.” The woman steps aside to allow me entry. I watch her face as I step in, and feel the old irritation as her features jump in surprise before she recovers herself, cool amusement showing instead. “Have you twisted your ankle?” she asks lightly.
“No,” I assure her. “This is how I walk.”
“Ah.” She glances toward Filadon, expression bland. “Verin?”
“Kelari Amraeya is still learning her way around the palace. I would appreciate it if you would call a page to escort her back to my apartments.”
“I’m sure it won’t be long,” she says, which doesn’t strike me as a particularly nice thing to say.
Filadon’s eyes darken, but he merely dips his head and departs. I follow the lady—an attendant, I would guess—through a wide welcoming hall, low sofas lining the wall interspersed with exquisitely carved tables bearing the ubiquitous silver trays, as well as painted vases and various other gold and silver knickknacks. I suppose we might sell our herd of horses and buy the contents of this room, but that would leave us without enough to afford the rest of our house.
The princess sits at a dressing table in her chamber, her embroidered skirts spread around her, watching as a tall young woman proffers various jewels for her consideration. Alyrra is young, younger than I am, but the intelligence of her eyes and solemnity of her expression suggest a maturity well beyond her years. I study her covertly, keeping my head slightly bent. Being from the western kingdoms, she has the pale skin and lighter-colored hair of those peoples, though not terribly so: her cheeks have a faint natural blush that grants her some color, and her hair is a deep brown.
She waves her hand to dismiss the jewelry before her and turns toward me with a polite smile. I sink into a somewhat jerky curtsy.
“May I present Kelari Amraeya,” the first attendant says briskly.
“Welcome to Tarinon, kelari,” the princess says, her tone neutral.
“Thank you, zayyida.” I rise from my curtsy, silently cursing my clumsiness, aware of the disbelieving look the tall attendant bestows on me, as if I were accentuating my clubfoot on purpose.
“How long will you be staying with us?”
“Till summer’s end,” I say, resolving to ignore the attendants. At least for now.
Alyrra tilts her head. “How have you found the city so far?”
I hesitate, unsure what she means by her question. “It seems a great and varied place, zayyida, but I’ve really only seen a little of the city. It’s still all very new.”
“I see.” She turns to her attendants. “Where might we be able to see the city from the palace?”
The taller attendant gives an elegant little shrug. “We rarely have occasion to look at the city from here. Perhaps you might try the palace walls.”
Zayyida Alyrra looks at her, waiting, but no further answer is forthcoming. “There is nowhere else you might suggest?”
“Not that I know of,” the woman says. Her companion who escorted me here makes no response at all, her head bent. Surely the princess shouldn’t be climbing the walls to look at the city? I cannot make out if they want Alyrra to go or not—are they setting her up for a social fall, or do they really think this appropriate?
“The palace walls it is,” Alyrra says cheerfully, rising from her seat.
The tall one’s lip curls with amusement. My hands tighten into fists, hidden among my skirts, and have to consciously relax them as I step aside for the princess to pass. I no longer have any doubt that princesses are not supposed to climb the palace walls; if nothing else, her attendants should have suggested a different sort of outing. Surely the princess realizes that?
“But you haven’t finished dressing, zayyida,” the lady who met me at the door says belatedly. Perhaps she does care.
“The jewelry can wait.”
“Your visit with Veria Dinari?”
Alyrra spreads her hands. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, Zaria, it’s that no one is ever on time. I might as well be fashionable for once.”
A faint smile curves Zaria’s lips, but she wipes it away at once. If she’s Zaria, I’d stake my favorite saddle on the taller woman being Jasmine. No wonder Alyrra’s looking for another attendant.
“Walk beside me,” Alyrra says to me, starting forward. “We can talk along the way.”
I hurry to catch up, but she says nothing more until we have left her apartment and descended the great sweeping staircase that serves as the main entrance to the royal wing. “Jasmine, Zaria, would you lead the way?”
“Oh, we have barely ever visited the walls,” Jasmine says, spreading her hands wide, as if this wasn’t her idea in the first place.
“Of course,” the princess says. “I can’t imagine you would have. Come, Amraeya, I’m sure we shall find them well enough ourselves.”
Jasmine and Zaria tag along behind us, letting forth the occasional barely audible remark or stifled laugh. Remembering the princess’s face when I entered the room, I can’t believe her oblivious to the snubs of her attendants. But for whatever reason, she’s chosen not to respond to them. Now she asks me about my family, the town where I grew up, even the various roles I fill on our ranch.
“I worked a little with horses,” she remarks as we emerge from a side door onto the paved road that circles the palace. The walls loom above us. Alyrra seems to know her way out perfectly well. “It was one of the more difficult choices I have been faced with: to take the position of hostler, or return to being princess.”
I glance at her quizzically, but she seems perfectly serious. “Are you happy with your decision?” I ask, because this I do need to know about her, if I am to be her attendant.
“It depends on the company and the time of day.” She smiles. “Horses are a great deal easier to get along with.”
“Most horses,” I agree.
“Most days,” she returns.
I grin and glance up at the walls, looming ever bigger before us. “Zayyida?”
“Yes?” she asks, slowing slightly.
I gather my courage, aware that Jasmine and Zaria are not all that far behind us, and say, “I am not sure that it is done for royalty to visit the walls.”
She takes my arm and says, her voice strangely cheerful, “I appreciate your concern, kelari. Come along.”