A Posse of Princesses (5 page)

“When you are ready to join the company, Your
Highnesses,” the steward said with another low bow, “here is the
bell pull. A runner will conduct you.”

He soon withdrew, and Shera said, “At least
we don’t have to disgrace ourselves stumbling about getting lost.”
She dashed to the window. “Oh, it’s fabulous!” She whirled and
clasped her hands. “I don’t think I ever want to leave!”

“But we haven’t met the people yet,” Rhis
said, feeling a tight sensation in her middle.

“Let’s do it quickly,” Shera said. “Before we
lose our courage.”

They found that the adjoining rooms were
bedrooms, each with its own little bath chamber and dressing room.
Keris was already in the one that had been selected for Rhis,
laying out the gown she’d chosen for her first appearance.

Rhis’s heart thumped as she got ready. She
forced herself to sit patiently as Keris brushed out her long,
straight hair and wove into it white ribbons embroidered with
silver.

At last she was ready. Her gown was a very
deep midnight blue, edged at neck and sleeves with
silver-embroidered white lace. Shera appeared, wearing yellow,
white, and gold, all trimmed with contrasting ribbons. Her rich
curls hung down charmingly, only decorated with two tiny bows, one
holding a lock just above one eye, the other at the back of her
head. The girls admired each other, and then Shera reached for the
bell pull.

The liveried runner, a very young girl,
knocked a short time later. With a solemn face she bowed and
silently indicated that they follow her.

Another long walk through increasingly
splendid surroundings brought them at last to another set of high,
carved doors. This time another liveried steward threw open the
doors, and after a quick whisper from the runner (Shera didn’t seem
to notice, she was so busy peeking through the doors, but Rhis did)
he announced the girls: “Their Highnesses Princess Rhis Lanvred of
Nym, and Princess Shera Tevoriac of Gensam!”

Rhis stepped inside first. Her eyes were
dazzled by what seemed to be thousands of crystal chandeliers. She
realized that one wall in the chamber was mirrored, throwing back
light and glitter, then she dared a glance at the assembled
people.

Young faces stared back at her, some with
smiles, some blank, some curious. Jewels gleamed in hair and on
clothes, and here and there a fan waved slowly. She didn’t have
time to look any longer, for first she had to proceed down the
length of the room toward an elegant chair higher than the
others.

From this distance all she could see of
Prince Lios was dark hair and a tunic of silver brocade.

“Oh,” Shera breathed softly next to Rhis.

The girls walked toward the dais. Rhis looked
at her toes, feeling intensely shy. But when they reached the end
of the room, she forced her chin up, spreading her skirts and
making the curtsey proper to a royal heir who was also her
host.

Then she looked into dark-lashed eyes the
color of chocolate, framed by glossy dark hair. Prince Lios smiled,
a dashing smile in a face so devastatingly attractive that by the
time Rhis had straightened up from her curtsey, she had fallen
happily and quite painlessly in love.

She felt as if a boulder had dropped out of
the sky and klonked her on the head—except nothing hurt. She just
felt stunned.

Silently she followed Shera, who swiveled
about, whispering behind her fan. Not that Rhis heard a word. She
was still seeing that handsome smile, those dark eyes framed by
long dark lashes.

Shera recognized a few people, for she
exchanged some words of greeting, and once or twice a wave of her
fan and a smile. Rhis stood in the background, sneaking peeks back
at Prince Lios whenever she thought that no one was looking her
way.

He didn’t look back at her after that initial
smile, for which she was more grateful than not. Oh, it would have
been nice if he’d taken one look and sent everyone away—or even if
he’d stolen peeks at her, as she did of him—but she was incapable
of doing anything but gawk helplessly. What could she possibly say
to someone so handsome?

After a time a discreet bell sounded, and
everyone moved off in one direction.

Servants sprang to open doors, and they
passed through into a wonderful dining room built on two or three
levels around an indoor stream, which appeared under one wall and
disappeared out under another. In the middle was a
waterfall-fountain, around which tables were set. Little trees and
ferny flowering plants grew alongside the stream, lending their
fragrance to the air.

The tables were all small, seating four.
Shera and Rhis hung back, not sure what etiquette dictated here,
until they were approached by two tall boys who looked older than
Rhis.

“Your Highnesses.” One of them bowed
expertly. “Welcome to Eskanda. Will you join us for supper?”

Shera smiled, her relief obvious.
“Gladly!”

Rhis managed a tiny nod.

“This way,” the first said. He was neatly
though plainly dressed, a little taller than medium height, with a
friendly face and his plain brown hair tied back instead of
elaborately braided or decorated with gems. “Let us introduce
ourselves. I’m Dandiar, Prince Lios’s personal scribe, and this is
Lord Halvic Barael, a cousin of the royal family.”

“Very distant,” Lord Halvic said with a grin.
He was short and stocky, with a shock of dark red hair that
probably would have stuck out like a brushfire if it hadn’t been
braided.

“Our job is to greet the newcomers,” the
scribe explained as he indicated a table near the stream.

“I like this job,” Halvic added with a suave
bow, before seating himself. “When the newcomers are ladies, and
not more fellows.”

Shera giggled, and Rhis grinned.

“We can also explain anything you’d like
explained, and maybe tell you a few things to make it easier to get
used to all these people,” Dandiar went on. “For instance, the
prince decreed that no one uses titles. If everyone goes around
your highnessing
one other, they’ll sound like a pit of
snakes.” He exaggerated the ‘s’ sound, making both girls laugh. “So
though I greeted you as ‘Your Highnesses’ when you came in—all very
proper—from now on I’ll call you Shera and Rhis.” He looked from
one to the other, his friendly light brown eyes slightly
questioning.

“If truth be known, that’s what we do in
Gensam—when we’re not before my mother,” Shera said with a smile.
“She insists on proper formality. And Rhis, up in those Nymish
mountains, only has her family to talk to and I don’t think they
‘Your Majesty’ each other.”

Rhis shook her head, not wanting to add that
Elda only used her full name and title when she was angry with
Rhis.

“There are some who don’t like the
informality,” Halvic said, as a servant came up and set dishes
before each of them. “But they comply.”

While this was happening, Rhis stole quick
peeks around the room, and noted that Prince Lios was seated next
to the waterfall. At his table was a very tall boy dressed in black
velvet, which made quite a contrast to his long light blond hair
and pale skin. With them was a short girl with a very haughty lift
to her chin, and a fabulous gown of gemmed brocade, but she was
scarcely noticeable compared to the fourth, who had to be Iardith.
Her black hair flowed in a serene fall almost to the floor, as
ordered as her green velvet gown with its deceptively simple silver
embroidery. Her skin was the color of hot chocolate, with a dusky
rose tone beneath it—unlike Rhis’s dull weathered-wood brown.
Iardith’s long-lashed profile was toward Rhis—she faced the
prince—and she was as spectacularly beautiful from the side as from
the front.

With an inner sigh Rhis withdrew her gaze,
noting that those tables around the waterfall had been seated and
served first. So that was obviously the favorite place.

“Another rule.” Dandiar’s voice recalled her
attention. “At breakfast and midday people may eat when they wish,
and it’s very informal. But at supper, we eat together, here, four
to a table.” He waved at the young ladies, then at himself and
Halvic. “And you’re supposed to eat with different people every
night. In order to get to know everyone the more quickly.”

Rhis wondered if Iardith obeyed that
rule.

“Not that it’s strictly enforced,” Dandiar
added. “But it is what Lios wants.”

“Well, I’m for that,” Shera said practically,
picking up her fork and knife. “I’m here to have fun, and the more
people you know, the more fun it is.”

Rhis dared a nod of agreementn, then took a
bite of the fish. It was cooked in some kind of delicate
sauce—delicious. Suddenly her appetite woke up, and she applied
herself to the meal with more attention.

Conversation flowed around her, mostly
Dandiar talking about the palace. He explained where everything was
located, and Rhis tried to pay attention, but her mind kept
wandering back to that table by the waterfall. She only permitted
herself two more peeks, but both were sufficient to show that
Prince Lios was thoroughly engrossed with Iardith, who managed
fork, fan, and hair with a dainty grace that made Rhis sigh
inwardly with envy and wish she’d practiced far more, instead of
sneaking off to play ballads and read books.

When she turned her gaze away the second
time, it was to find Dandiar watching her. She felt her cheeks
redden, and bent her attention to the last of her food.

“Up there with the prince,” Dandiar said
easily, “are Princess Iardith of Arpalon and Lady Mera, daughter of
the Duke of Wilfar Island. The fellow is Prince Jarvas of
Damatras.”

Shera’s eyes went round. “Damatras?”

Dandiar’s smile turned ironic at the corners.
“Supposedly the war is over, and the two countries are at
peace.”

From what her father had said about that,
Rhis didn’t believe that the Damatrans were ever really at peace,
but she didn’t want to say it.

Dandiar looked her way, as if waiting for her
to speak, but she just went on eating, trying hard to emulate
Iardith’s fine manner.

Shera shrugged. “I don’t know. All I hear
about is how much they like squabbling with everyone else. But I
don’t have to worry about that, I’m glad to say.” She grinned
unrepentantly. “That’s the nice thing about not being the
heir.”

“So what would you like to hear about?”
Dandiar asked. “The latest gossip?”

“We know all that,” Halvic added, with a
quirk to his brows.

Shera brightened. “Of course! Who’s twoing
with whom, and who is feuding with whom? I don’t want to make any
blunders,” she added. “Besides, I like gossip.”

“So do I,” Halvic said, with a laughing
glance at the scribe, who just shrugged and opened his hands.
“Let’s see . . . Prince Lios is not twoing with anyone, contrary to
whatever you might hear. Sefan—heir to the dukedom of Lis—and Cria
of Port Kelar are. Plenty of flirtations going on, but those change
as fast as it takes to talk about them,” Halvic said.

“Speaking of which,” Dandiar added, “there’s
usually dancing directly after supper for anyone who wants. However
in three days’ time, the official celebration will be initiated
with a masquerade ball. The theme is famous lovers, or famous
heroes and heroines.”

“Ballads,” Shera breathed, and she giggled
again, hiding her face behind her fan.

Rhis couldn’t help a big grin, thinking how
appalled Elda would be.

“And Lios,” Dandiar said, waving his hand to
encompass the entire room, “will manage to dance with every one of
you girls.”

oOo

Supper ended shortly afterward. Halvic
offered to conduct Shera and Rhis to the salon cleared for dancing,
but Dandiar excused himself, saying regretfully that he had
duties.

Shera chose to go dancing. Rhis shook her
head, preferring to retreat to her room for quiet. She didn’t know
anyone yet, and was frightened at the thought of standing around
partnerless while Iardith danced (beautifully) with Prince
Lios.

She wanted to sleep, but she was still awake
when Shera came back well after the midnight bell had rung.

Shera came unceremoniously into Rhis’s room
and sat on the end of her bed. “It was wonderful,” she declared,
still breathless. “A full orchestra! They have one every night. Two
new dances—I can show you in the morning. Easy, one like the
havan
and the other a step-and-circle dance, quite lovely,
but dizzying. The prince brought it from overseas, someone told me.
I had nine partners, and I liked every one. That Jarvas only danced
once—with Iardith, of course—and spent the rest of the time propped
against the wall with his arms folded, glowering at her partners.
Only Lios had the courage, or maybe the indifference, to ignore him
and dance with her twice. Of course she managed somehow not to look
sweaty, or get her hair in a tangle,” Shera added with disgust.

“Did she talk to you?” Rhis asked.

“Only to ask, in her most poisonous sweet
voice, if we knew about the masquerade.” Shera grimaced. “She knows
quite well from her visit that my mother doesn’t approve of
dressing up as other people.”

“Elda doesn’t either,” Rhis murmured. “But
don’t worry. Keris already found out, and she’s hired seamstresses
for us. All we have to do is choose who we want to be.”

Shera flung herself back on her bed andsighed
happily. “Well, if I’d known that, I could have given Iardith a
mighty crisp answer. As well I didn’t, though, I guess.”

Rhis said in agreement, “Better we just
appear in our masquerade costumes, as though we’ve had them all the
time.”

Shera grinned, and got to her feet. “That
Keris of yours is a real treasure.” She yawned. “I guess I’d better
sleep, or I’ll be pinch-faced and owl-eyed tomorrow, and I don’t
want that. There’s to be horse-racing in the afternoon.”