Fairest (14 page)

The servant put down the porridge, curtsied, and left. Sir Enole began to roll bandages. I stood at the window. My mind wandered to beauty spells.

“At the council session …”

I came alert.

“… all they talked of were droughts and trade delegations and ogres. It was too dull to endure. They said the same things over and over.”

She rested her forehead on the king's chest. “So I dissolved the council.”

Sir Enole's hands stopped their work. I choked back a gasp.

“I don't see why I need a council. Ijori can tell me what I must decide.”

Dissolved the king's council!

Ayorthaians were proud of their council, the oldest in our region. There were only five members, including the king or queen, but one member always had to be a commoner. We'd fought a civil war to put a commoner on the council. Council matters were discussed all across the kingdom.

“My lord, you will thank me when you are well.” She recited, “‘Powerful monarchs need no parliaments.' I wonder you—”

This was tyranny! I burst out, “Your Majesty, everyone will be furious. The king's council—”

“Oh, Aza, leave statecraft to your queen. Leave it to me. You are not to worry.” She gestured for me to approach her. I did, and she whispered in my ear, “My advisor assures me that it will come right.”

Obviously offended at her rudeness, Sir Enole retreated to his study.

She added, reciting again, “‘Powerful queens rule happy kingdoms.'”

I returned to the window, half wanting to assassinate her for the good of Ayortha.

She told her husband the dishes she hoped would be served at dinner.

Later, on my way to my chamber after Ivi had bade me leave her for the night, I saw Ijori and Oochoo in the Great Hall. He was tossing a wooden ball, and she was dashing among the pillars in hot pursuit. When I happened along, she rushed to me, tail wagging, ball in her mouth. She let me have it, and I skimmed it across the tiles.

He approached. “I hoped you'd come. The moon is out. You haven't seen Ontio Castle by moonlight.”

I followed him outside, amazed he'd waited for me, amazed he wanted to show me anything. He seemed unaffected by my ugliness, but it gnawed at me. At least at night I was less visible.

We passed under the leaves of the Three Tree and across the courtyard. I breathed in the scent of obirko blossoms.

He started down a steep stone stairway. “Hold on to my shoulders. I don't want you to fall.”

Joy. I grasped his shoulders. He felt sturdy under my hands. I heard Oochoo, scrabbling down the slope on our right.

The steps ended in a pebbled path, almost as steep as the stairs.

“Careful. This is treacherous at night.”

I didn't see why. Every pebble stood out under the bright full moon. The path leveled, and the moat opened up before us. The water was low. I saw a fox's footprints on the banks.

Ijori stopped and turned. “Look up.”

I did, and there was the castle. If the earth tilted a degree, it would come crashing down.

He sang, “What do you think?”

The glossy leaves of the castle's ivy caught the moonlight. I sang, “It glows.” I wanted to add something memorable, something to rival the castle's grandeur. “It's … It's enormous. It blocks out half the sky.” Not memorable.

“It's indescribable, although I've tried innumerable times.”

I felt better and found the words I'd wanted. “It makes me think of the sound when a chorus sings full voice.”

“Ah. Yes.”

We began to walk again. A cloud crossed the moon. Ijori stood still, and I did too. The world was dark. All I had were the warmth of him next to me and the noises of the night—Oochoo panting, frogs chanting, a breeze in the bushes.

The cloud passed. We went on.

“We can circle the castle along the moat.”

“Where are the swans?” I asked.

“Asleep.”

We walked in silence. I thought if I concentrated, I might hear the stars serenading each other.

He said, “Do you hear Oochoo?”

“Not anymore.”

“Where is she?” He called, “Oochoo, come.”

Silence.

He whistled and called again. In the distance we heard her. A minute later she was jumping up on Ijori and then nuzzling into my skirts.

“Good, Oochoo. Good, girl.” He fed her a treat from his pocket. “Stay with me.” For a moment he held her by her jeweled collar. “She won't stay. She never does.”

He let her go, and she ran off again.

“I never thought to have a friend like you.” He resumed walking.

He and I were friends? “I never thought to have a prince for a friend.”

“Princes are cut from good cloth for friendship. Silk is as strong as burlap, although no one thinks so.”

“I think so.”

“Thank you, Aza.” He paused. “I have a cousin who's a friend, but she's entirely different.”

What did he mean?

“It's because I'm a commoner. You can put a
lady
before my name, but at bottom I'm burlap.”

“You're not burlap,” he said gallantly.

I chuckled. “We do have a bit of dimity here and there at the Featherbed.”

“Now I have a confession. The shocking truth is I've never spent a night at an inn.”

“Never? Then how do you travel?”

“From castle to castle. Or, if I'm riding against ogres with Uncle, we sleep in tents.”

Riding against ogres. Terrifying.

“An ogress almost killed me when I was fourteen.”

“Oh!”

“She persuaded me that my father was alive. I knew he was dead, and yet she convinced me in only a few words. I believed she could lead me to him. Uncle saved me.” He laughed. “For a moment I was furious with him.”

“How did he save you?”

“He was on his charger, singing so loud he couldn't hear the ogress, and he snatched me up.” He shook his head. “Sometimes in nightmares I still hear her sweet voice, and I still believe her. Ogres are the ultimate deceivers.”

I ranked just below them.

I heard voices in the distance. People were singing in the garden.

“Aza … If I may ask, I'd like your opinion of Her Majesty—the opinion of an innkeeper.”

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what
his
opinion was. I searched for something safe. “She's inexperienced.”

“I shudder to think what she'll do when she has experience. How could she have dissolved the council?”

“She doesn't understand what it means to us.”

“How could she not—” He stopped himself. “I'm being indiscreet.” He sang, “You must despise me.” He whistled for Oochoo again, and this time she came quickly.

“No. I don't.” He was confiding in me, but I was hiding everything from him.

“You're too kind to despise anyone.”

Such a compliment! I despised Ivi.

Not entirely. Sometimes I had sympathy for her.

How I wished to unburden myself! How I wished to be frank!

He added, “I'm candid because I need someone to assess my judgments. You and I know her better than anyone here, excepting my uncle.”

I was uneasy even about sharing my complete opinion of her. “She's headstrong, and we know she has a temper, but it's perhaps because she's so lively.”

“Yes. My uncle loved—loves—her liveliness. He said her moods made him feel young again. He said she made him think he could do anything.”

“I believe she returns his love.” I told Ijori that she'd spent the night at the king's side.

He was surprised and pleased.

“She's generous, too.” I told him she'd paid for my wardrobe.

This failed to impress him. “The crown is rich enough for such generosity”—he touched my arm—“but I suspect you'd find goodness in an ogre.”

“I detest ogres! I detested certain guests at the Featherbed.”

“What did they do?”

“Oh … they were rude.”

“Rude?” He paused. I could feel his thoughts go round. “I see.”

He probably did. I wished he didn't.

“Which guest did you like best?”

I told him about the gnome zhamM. “And I like the duchess of Olixo.”

“That's tantamount to liking an ogre.”

“It isn't! She loves cats.”

“And ogres eat them. I see the difference.”

I laughed.

He circled back to Ivi. “At least she spent last night at the king's side.”

“Yes.”

“And at least she has a first-rate voice.”

A
WEEK PASSED
. T
HE
mood in the castle was bleak. The corridor troubadours sang of pain and grief. Whenever I illused for Ivi, I was sure the word
trickster
would appear on my forehead. I feared sneezing or hiccuping or fainting. I felt dizzy and feverish.

At the beginning of the following week, I received two letters, one from home and one from Areida at finishing school. I opened them in my chamber before dressing for dinner, sitting at my window, reading by the light of the sunset.

Areida's letter contained mostly questions, paragraph after paragraph of questions about the royal family, the court, and the castle. Then she wrote:

Darling Areida. I was glad she didn't know the truth. I patted her letter and smoothed out its creases. I put it aside and turned to the letter from home, which had been penned by Mother, the family chronicler. First came the family's distress over the king, then her joy over the change in all our fortunes. I basked in her excitement. Because of our wondrous wealth, a new roof had been decided upon and a new wing was under consideration.

She wrote,

Evidently word of the council's dissolution hadn't yet reached home.

The tone of her letter altered.

I had to catch my breath. I looked out the window, where the green of the oak leaves and the brown of the branches were saturated with dusk. The colors swam, and I realized I was weeping.

The woman who'd borne me and the man who'd sired me had been rich enough to keep me if they'd liked, but they'd wanted nothing to do with me. They hadn't even made sure I lived.

I wondered if Areida and my brothers knew of my high birth. Probably not. They wouldn't have been able to keep the secret.

I wiped my eyes and read on.