Daughter of the Disgraced King (8 page)

Arrigo stepped up just a little too close and looked down
his overly large nose at Jathan. “Well, well, well. Hello Jathan. Imagine
finding you in the middle of . . . this.”

Jathan’s nod of greeting was just barely short of insulting.
“Arrigo. What happened? Did Father demote you? Surely you have better things to
do than follow me around.”

A muttering grew in the surrounding crowd as Imperial Prince
Arrigo was recognized. Jathan set his teeth against a rising aggravation. Even
here, Arrigo just couldn’t help but try to put himself above Jathan.

Arrigo pulled himself up to his full height—two inches
taller than Jathan. “Your body guard is technically under my command, you know.”

Jathan relaxed into an insolent slouch, direct opposite of
Arrigo’s aggressive military posture. “I don’t
need
a body guard. Not
here. I’m in the middle of the Institute and barely a mile from the imperial
palace. What’s going to happen here?”

Arrigo shrugged and looked at the crowd gathered around
them. “I don’t know. Seems you have a talent for collecting a mob.”

Jathan snorted and shook his head pityingly. “It’s not a
mob, Arrigo. It’s a game. I’d explain it to you, but it involves brains rather
than muscles, so I doubt you’d understand.”

Arrigo stepped still closer and lowered his voice. “Careful,
Jathan. You wouldn’t want me to repeat that last statement to Father, would
you?”

“Oh? And how are you going to explain what you’re doing
here, when you’ve been expressly ordered
not
to interfere with my
training?” Jathan hissed back.

They glared at each other for a moment.

Arrigo broke first. “We should continue this in private. If
your classes are done for the day, you might as well come on home with us.”

Jathan shrugged. “Sorry, Arrigo, but I can’t. I’ve promised
to see Ailsa home safely. I’ll see you there later.”

Arrigo’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Ailsa?”

Jathan turned to take Ailsa’s hand again and bowed with perfect
courtly precision. “Imperial Prince Arrigo, I have the honor to present
Princess Ailsa of Far Terra.” Jathan ignored the renewed murmurs of the crowd.
Now why did that make Ailsa look like a frightened doe about to bolt back into
the forest? It couldn’t possibly be the first time she’d been introduced as a
princess. After all, she could claim that title by birth. Not just by adoption
like him.

In fact, Ailsa had appeared terrified ever since Karensa had
started the game. He’d just been too excited to finally have a team mate to
recognize it. She’d wanted to stay in the back in Barth’s class, too. He didn’t
understand what frightened her about that, but he could at least try to help
her out. Probably best to take her home with a minimum of fuss, for a start.

Arrigo bowed over Ailsa’s hand, completely oblivious to the
way she stiffened. “Princess Ailsa. My very great pleasure.” He glanced at
Jathan as he stood back up and smiled. “Why don’t we all see you safe home,
Princess?”

Ailsa swallowed and looked up at Jathan, her eyes pleading
for help.

Jathan took Ailsa’s hand again, noticing that her palm was
slightly damp. She really was scared for some reason. “No, Arrigo. I think you’ve
made quite enough of a commotion for one day.
I’ll
take Ailsa home.”

Ailsa relaxed a little and gave him a half-smile. That must
have been the right answer. Well, he could certainly understand why anybody
would want to avoid more of Arrigo’s company. The rest . . . Jathan guessed he’d
just have to figure out the rest later. Right now, the best thing was clearly
to get Ailsa back to her grandmother.

Arrigo still missed the signs. “I insist.”

Jathan sighed and tried to give Ailsa’s hand a reassuring
squeeze. There really wasn’t any way he could stop Arrigo at this point. Not
short of a public brawl, anyway.

~

Ailsa escaped through the door to Grandmama’s little house.
She hadn’t felt so uncomfortably the center of attention, being escorted home
by six uniformed men, since that last ball back home in Far Terra. She wanted
nothing more than to hide in her little bedroom for a while.

“Good, you’re home,” Grandmama said. “I thought we might go
shopping this afternoon to fill in some of the gaps in your wardrobe.”

Ailsa stood with her back to the door. She shook her head
mutely.

Grandmama stopped and looked at Ailsa’s tense posture and
pale face. “What happened to scare you so? Did that scamp Jathan leave you to
come home on your own? Did anyone try to harm you?”

“No,” Ailsa choked out. “Nothing like that.” She swallowed
and marshaled her thoughts to explain what had happened.

Grandmama led her over to one of the overstuffed chairs and
sat across from her. She smiled as Ailsa described the game. “Jathan’s mostly
right. The teachers do know about it and generally don’t mind too much. It
sounds like things may have gotten a little more out of hand than usual.” She
chuckled. “Jathan can be . . . competitive. And he was undoubtedly excited to
finally have a teammate with the same kind of magic.”

“Well, it seems like somebody doesn’t like it. Somebody
important,” Ailsa said.

“Why? What happened?”

With a shudder for the close call with imperial power, Ailsa
described the interruption by the palace guard and Jathan’s aggressive response
to Imperial Prince Arrigo.

To her surprise, Grandmama laughed. “Those two have never
stopped trying to outdo each other. I wonder if they ever will. At least Jathan
gets on better with his older brothers.”

Ailsa stared at her grandmother, her mind racing to catch up.
“Brothers?”

“Well, step-brothers, really. Jathan is the son of the
current empress, the emperor’s second wife. He and Arrigo were both babies—and
possibly too close in age—when their parents married. I swear those two started
pushing each other as toddlers and they just don’t know how to stop. Anyway,
the posturing between those two isn’t serious trouble—and it’s nothing to do
with you.”

Ailsa blinked. “Then Jathan . . . is a prince?”

Grandmama shrugged. “The emperor adopted him. But I get the
impression Jathan intends to forge his own path and make a name for himself as
a green mage.” She patted Ailsa’s arm. “You may be able to help him with that.
He does seem to be best motivated by competition.”

Ailsa swallowed. “I . . . don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t go
to the dance, then. Or . . . at least not with Jathan.”

“Why not?” Grandmama asked. “I thought you liked Jathan—at
least when he’s not being overly competitive. Surely not because of Arrigo?”

“I . . .” Ailsa looked away. “It just seems like it’d be
awfully conspicuous.”

Grandmama reached over and gave Ailsa’s shoulder a little
shake. “You’re not in Far Terra. You don’t have to make yourself invisible to
appease King Ewart. You’re going to have to get over that if you’re ever going
to be able to work as a green mage anyway. And, here, one of the safest places
for you to be is next to Jathan, conspicuous or not.”

Ailsa glanced out the window. It was a lot to take in, but .
. . maybe Grandmama was right. Anyway, she enjoyed Jathan’s company. “All
right. I’ll try.”

Ailsa paused as she came through the door after classes the
next day. An unfamiliar older woman sat in the front room. “Hello?”

“Ah, there you are, Ailsa!” Grandmama called from deeper in
the house. She came into the front room carrying the blue ball gown. “Is this
all your mother sent with you for formal occasions?”

“Um. Pretty much. I think she wanted—”

“It’s perfectly clear what she wanted,” Grandmama interrupted,
disapprovingly. “Never expect subtlety from a heat mage. It’s not in them.” She
held the dress out to the other woman. “I don’t suppose it can even be dyed to
an appropriate color, Chara?”

The other woman—Chara—fingered the fabric and held it up to
the light. She shook her head. “No. If it fits her well, what I can do is use
it as a pattern. Saves time on the fittings.”

“Do you like the style?” Grandmama asked.

Ailsa thought back to that one ball she’d worn this gown to.
She didn’t want to attract
that
much attention. “It’s a little, ah, a
little . . .” She gestured to her torso.

Chara smiled. “Yes. I can see that. Well, I can change the
neckline to something a bit more . . . demure. Not too demure, though. You don’t
want to be a wallflower.” She squinted at Ailsa. “Hmm. Perhaps a bit of lace.
Yes. A little lace jacket would give you more options for future balls.” She
nodded to herself. “You can leave that to me.”

“Thank you, Chara,” Grandmama said. “I knew we could rely on
you.”

“Is this for the student ball?” Ailsa asked.

“Of course,” Grandmama answered. “Your mother was right
about that much, at least. You need to socialize as well as study. The
relationships you make here are also a part of your preparation to be a mage,
you know.”

Ailsa chewed her lip. She still thought going to the ball
with Jathan would be fun—just as long as she could keep him from somehow
dragging her out into the public view again. She just wasn’t sure how she was
going to do that.

~

Another ball. Father seemed to be having far more of them
than usual this season. Savyon stood, knees locked, behind his father’s throne,
letting the music wash over him and thinking about Ailsa. What was she doing,
now? From her second letter, he knew she must already have been through her
testing, but her last letter had said nothing about what kind of magic she had.
True, her letters were being read, but he couldn’t see why that would be
information that was too private to write about. He was afraid she had turned
out to be a water mage, something too important for her to give up.

“Savyon!” His father’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Savyon bent forward, closer to his father. “Sorry, Father.”

Father tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. “I was
saying you should go dance. Mix with some of the young ladies, like your
brother.”

There was little Savyon wanted to do less than go out onto
the dance floor. He always felt so awkward—tall and gawky—except when he danced
with Ailsa. She could make anyone feel that they danced well. “Cergio always
has enjoyed these things more than I do.”

“That’s no excuse. How about Baron Jazep’s daughter? Good
family, that.”

Savyon looked toward the baron his father had named. Father
and daughter had the same prominent front teeth. The unfortunate girl had also
inherited her mother’s protuberant eyes. “She looks like a frightened rabbit.”

“Well, what about Baron Raibeart’s daughter, then? She’s
quite lovely.”

Savyon didn’t even have to look. “Gella has the brains of a
rabbit.”

Father huffed. “There are dozens of girls of good family out
there. Surely you can find
one
who doesn’t remind you of a rabbit. It’s
about time you got serious about finding a bride. You won’t do that standing up
here like a statue.”

Savyon’s mouth went dry. “I’m not even nineteen until next
month. There’s plenty of time for that.”

“Now, while your little friend isn’t here to monopolize you,
seems like a very good time to me. Now, go out there and dance!”

Savyon sighed and turned to go. He paused and licked his
lips nervously. Father had been the one to bring up marriage and Savyon had to
open the subject sometime. He’d promised Ailsa that he’d convince his father
that their marriage would be a good thing. Maybe he’d underestimated the task,
but that didn’t excuse him from trying. “You know, Father, in some ways, Ailsa
would be the perfect royal bride. We’d reunite both lineages and put an end to
any potential insurrection. Have you thought of that?”

The king’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. He
raised a shaking hand and pointed to the floor. “Dance.”

Well,
that
hadn’t gone well. He’d have to find the
exactly right moment to bring it up again, but Savyon was determined to keep
trying. He stepped off the dais and prepared himself to go dance with someone
who wasn’t Ailsa. This wasn’t going to be any fun at all.

~

Ailsa met Jathan at the door, hoping that the threatening
drizzle wouldn’t turn into rain until after they got to the ball.

His eyes twinkled, taking in her gown. “I see you found
something to wear. And a very good job someone did, too. I’ll have to ask your
grandmother for the seamstress’s name for my sister.”

Ailsa drew a deep breath. She could in this gown without
worrying about it. Chara had somehow managed to give almost the same effect as
the blue gown while still allowing Ailsa room to inhale freely. The neckline
didn’t make her fingers twitch to constantly adjust it, either. Especially with
the matching silk-trimmed lace bolero that fastened with a jeweled clasp at her
throat. She even liked the soft, minty shade of green. It was much more
becoming than the brighter grass green of her student robes. She twirled the
skirt a little. “You like it?”

Jathan smiled as he placed her hand on his arm. “Very much.
You’re lovely.” He winked at her. “I bet you’ll be even lovelier dancing. It’s
what that dress was made for.”

Ailsa frowned slightly. The novelty had worn off and she was
beginning to get tired of Jathan’s winking. She was never quite sure what to
make of it, except that he was amused about something. He didn’t do it when he
was being serious. But he could switch from serious to flippant faster than a
stooping desert falcon. Sometimes, she just didn’t know what to make of Jathan.

He handed her up into the coach for the short drive over to
the Institute. The coach was relatively plain on the outside, with just a very
small imperial crest by the door handle. Inside, it was luxurious. This ride
wouldn’t be much longer than the one from her home to the palace back in Far
Terra. It felt a little strange to be going to a ball without Sav, especially
now. It wasn’t really disloyal, though. After all, Jathan was just a friend and
fellow student. Of course, she would have said almost the same about Sav not so
long ago.

Ailsa settled herself on the upholstered leather seat and
looked across at Jathan. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a prince?”

Jathan shrugged. “Because it’s not who I am. Not really. Oh,
the emperor adopted me when he married my mother, but my real father was a
talented green mage. And so am I. Maybe a pretty powerful one. That’s what I
want to be known for.” He grinned. “At the institute, I can be judged just for
myself, not who my stepfather is. It’s the freest I’ve ever felt.”

Ailsa smiled back. If their teachers and fellow students
could ignore the fact that Jathan was the adopted son of the emperor, they
surely wouldn’t care one way or another who her father was. “I feel that way,
too.”

“I knew we had more in common than just our magic.” Jathan
helped her out of the carriage at the foot of the steps to the same building
where her testing had been conducted.

As they came through the double doors, Ailsa stopped and
stared around her. The building had been totally transformed for the ball. Multi-colored,
sparkling balls of light floated in the heights like so many stars. In the
center of the room, where the water mages had created a jet of water during her
testing, there was a tinkling fountain now. Flowering vines formed an arch just
inside the doorway. It must be the same one from her testing—or one of the pair
was, because one side of the arch was covered in pink flowers and the other
side had orange flowers, as Grandmama had said it should. There were wonders
everywhere she looked.

“Let’s dance.” Jathan whirled her out onto the dance floor.

He was a very good dancer, making her feel as if she were
floating. Ailsa smiled. Dancing with Jathan was almost effortless, nothing at
all like the way she’d had to work to offset the stiffness that always
afflicted Sav whenever he was surrounded by a crowd. A twinge of guilt
assaulted her at that thought. She would have stumbled on the next step, but Jathan
saved her and swept her back into the dance, erasing her thoughts of Sav for
the moment. Ailsa let the music and the movement carry her, just enjoying the
moment.

Jathan grinned. “I knew you’d be a good dancer. At least
when your mind’s on what you’re doing.”

Ailsa smile wavered. “Sorry. I just had a stray thought
about . . . home. Balls there were never like this.”

Jathan tilted his head back and laughed. This time it was
Ailsa who compensated and saved him from a misstep. “If you think this little
ball is so grand, you should see one of the great balls up at the Imperial
Palace some time. Maybe I’ll just have to arrange that.”

The music faltered to a stop. All around them, dancers
halted. Rustlings and murmurs started to grow.

“They’re here,” someone whispered nearby.

“The princes came,” someone else said into the growing
silence.

Along with everyone else, Ailsa turned toward the door.
Three young men stood framed by the arch of the flowering vines. One was Prince
Arrigo and the others were clearly his brothers. All three were just a shade
taller than Jathan, but stockier in build and darker, with non-descript
brownish hair and eyes. Not a one of them had Jathan’s cheerful manner.

“Just like them to burst in and spoil everything,” Jathan
muttered.

The three newcomers scanned the room and then made straight
for Jathan and Ailsa. The one who appeared to be the oldest waved his hand and
the music started up again. A few people even continued dancing. Most just
stared.

“Well, well, so this is our fair cousin?” the oldest said.

Ailsa’s head was spinning faster than the dance music. At
the moment, she couldn’t recall the names of the other imperial princes or
which was which. “C-cousin?”

The oldest shrugged dismissively. “Well, not really, of
course. The family connection is quite a lot further back than that.”

“But, traditionally, we’ve always treated visiting royalty
from Far Terra as our cousins,” the next oldest continued.

“Of course,” Arrigo put in, “none of them have ever come as
real students at the Institute of Magical Arts, before. And a green mage, at
that.”

“Still, Father would have our ears if we didn’t bestir
ourselves to make you feel at home,” the oldest said.

“I was doing just fine at that without your help,” Jathan
put in sourly.

Arrigo sneered. “Relax, Jathan. One turn around the dance
floor—each—and we’ll be on our way. We only want to welcome Princess Ailsa to
Terranion.”

“I’m
not
a princess,” Ailsa protested out of habit.

The oldest prince raised his eyebrows. “Whatever they call
you back in Far Terra.
Here
, you’re a princess.” He held out his hand. “May
I?”

Ailsa looked to Jathan uncertainly.

He shrugged reluctantly. “Might as well. They won’t leave
until you do.” He grinned mischievously. “By the way, that’s Crown Prince
Artair.” He pointed at the next two in turn. “And that’s Prince Rishiart. You’ve
already met Prince Arrigo.”

Prince Arrigo struck his forehead with his palm. “That’s
going to earn us a month of remedial protocol lessons. Our apologies for not
introducing ourselves earlier.” He gave Ailsa a slight bow.

Crown Prince Artair’s hand was still outstretched to her. It
would be rude to ignore it and Ailsa knew better than most never to insult
power. With one last look back at Jathan, she swallowed hard and took Artair’s
hand.  

He led her into the dance. It wasn’t as effortless and fun
as with Jathan. He wasn’t quite as stiff as Sav, either. Still, the experience
took her back to trying to enjoy a dance with King Ewart’s paranoid eye
seemingly always on her. She had to force herself not to twitch her shoulders
against that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of being watched. She
completely missed whatever Artair had just said to her. This ball had been so
much fun, up ‘til now. That feeling had completely evaporated. Ailsa focused on
a spot somewhere in the middle of Artair’s chest.