Fairest (17 page)

The other gowns were as bad. Textures and colors stabbed at me.

“We hope Milady likes her new wardrobe,” the tailor said, smirking.

“The queen won't pay for these.” I wouldn't let them see me cry.

The tailor bowed. “Consider them a gift. They will adorn you as you deserve.”

I left everything. As soon as I turned away, my eyes filled. I wanted to be alone in my chamber. People stood aside as I rushed toward the staircase at the back of the hall.

I heard someone behind me.

“Aza!”

Ijori. I didn't want to see him now. I ran. I reached the staircase and started up.

He came after me. “Aza! What's amiss?”

I climbed as rapidly as I could, but Dame Ethele's skirts slowed me. He put his hand on my elbow. At least I was high enough to be out of sight of the Great Hall. I sank on a step and began to sob.

“What? What happened?”

But I was crying too hard to speak.

He sat on the step below me. He reached up to pat my shoulder and my back. He murmured, “Don't cry. What is it? Nothing's so bad. Don't cry, sweet. Oh, dear heart, don't cry.”

Sweet? Dear heart? I turned to him. What was he saying?

He rose and came closer and kissed my blood-red mouth.

H
IS LIPS FELT
so soft.

I'd thought I'd grow old and die without ever a kiss. A melody bloomed in my mind, high and clear and joyous. He was kissing me.

He drew away, a little away, and smoothed the hair from my face. He murmured, “You smell like a meadow.”

I touched his cheek. I hummed the melody my mind was singing. He smiled and listened.

After a while I stopped humming, but the tune continued in my mind.

“Why were you crying?”

“It doesn't matter anymore.” It didn't.

“It does matter. Someone was cruel.”

I shrugged.

“They don't know you.” He sang, “I know you. You're the finest, kindest, sweetest maiden in Ayortha.” He kissed me again.

A prince could judge ostumo.

Then Oochoo was there, sticking her snout between us, wagging her tail, licking Ijori's face and mine. We both stood, laughing. He returned to the hall and I proceeded up the stairs. My mind went back to singing.

The queen would expect me to be a while at the fitting. I could go to my room and calm myself.

I stopped climbing. Ivi would recognize that the tailor's behavior had been an insult to her. Without a doubt she'd imprison him, and probably Mistress Audra as well. They had been even more rash than Frying Pan. They'd known what the queen might do.

But I didn't want them imprisoned. I wanted my new wardrobe. They deserved punishment, but not imprisonment. I had to save them if I could. I started back down the stairs, considering how I might manage the tailor.

He bowed when I reached his stall. “Milady has returned for her finery.”

I snapped out, “Come with me.” I had never played the great lady before, but I'd watched the duchess.

He followed me behind a pillar, where we could have relative privacy.

I drew myself up to my full height, half a foot above his head. Ijori's kiss had fortified me. “You thought to have fun with the queen's favorite and be safe from the queen herself.”

“Milady—”

“Her Majesty intended to come with me. If she had, you and your seamstresses would be in prison now. Did you think of Mistress Audra and the others?”

“It was—”

“And, with you in prison, tomorrow the tailor from Ontio town will set up his stall in your place.”

His face reddened. “The tailor Emoree? That charl—”

I nodded. “Yes, that charlatan. Or perhaps Her Majesty will send for a Kyrrian tailor from her hometown of Bast.”

The tailor looked apoplectic.

“Did you think about that?” I sang. “Did you think at all? But”—I returned to speech—“if my wardrobe is finished, you will keep your stall and no one will be thrown in the dungeon.”

“We will make it up for you.” He didn't meet my eyes.

“Look at me!”

He looked up.

“I want it in time for the Sing, and I want the ensembles I chose, in the fabrics I chose.”

“You will have them, but—”

I barked out, “But what?”

“—there will be no time for a fitting.”

“Then see that everything is perfect.”

“Yes, milady. Milady?”

“Yes?”

“What will you tell the queen?”

“I'll tell Her Majesty that you are putting on the finishing touches.”

“Tell her, too, that she won't find a tailor of my quality anywhere in Ontio or Kyrria.”

“If I like my new ensembles, I'll certainly tell her that. Indeed, she'll see for herself. Good day, Tailor.” I strode away, feeling a thousand feet tall, and glad to be, for the first time in my life.

Kisses were better than potions.

When I reached Ivi's chambers, I told her the fitting had gone well, and everything would be ready in time for the Sing.

She clapped her hands. “Which will you wear? I know! Wear the blue brocade. No, don't wear it. Bring it here. Bring all your new finery. You'll wait on me and I'll wait on you. I'll be your lady-in-waiting, and you'll be mine. We'll look so splendid, the court will go blind from the sight of us. It almost makes me like Sings.”

In the Throne Room that afternoon she flirted with the two guards, but especially with the guard Uju. Ijori and I wrote our songs while Oochoo dozed. I wrote Ivi's song as well as my own. I'd asked her if I might, and, to my surprise, she'd said yes.

It was hard to pay attention to writing with Ijori only a few feet away. I sat near the fireplace and leaned on a slate I'd found on the hearth. He sat at the desk where, he said, the king penned his proclamations.

I wanted to move my chair closer to his. I wanted to do nothing but smile at him. Neither would be wise. Ivi wouldn't want me making sheep's eyes at her prince.

And she wouldn't want him making sheep's eyes at me, which I saw he was in danger of doing. I lowered my head and concentrated on my song.

I wrote about my feeling for beauty, for being beautiful.

This was my song.

But I no longer wanted the bright blue sky so much. I had something better.

Now for the queen's song. A sung apology would be received best. But she'd never sing—or mouth the words of—such a song.

Second best would be a song about missing the king. I knew the way she missed him. She missed his love for her. She missed being the reason for his laughter and his tears.

But her subjects wouldn't like that. The song should be about the way they would want her to miss him. I wrote:

“Do not write too long a song.” Ivi stood at my shoulder.

“I won't, Your Majesty.” I wished she'd move away. I couldn't write with her watching.

“Many Ayorthaian songs are far too long, don't you agree, Prince Ijori?”

He smiled noncommitally. “The composer and the hearer often have different opinions on that score.”

She returned to Uju. “Uju agrees with me. They are too long, no?”

He shrugged.

She quizzed Uju about his song and received the shortest of replies. In a few minutes she gave up and announced she was retiring to her chambers. She left, accompanied by the two guards.

Ijori put his writing aside and came to me. He sang, “Sing to me.”

I sang, “What shall I sing?”

“Anything.”

I sang, “Four thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight. Four thousand seven hundred and thirty-nine. Four thousand seven hundred and forty.”

He laughed. “It sounds marvelous when you sing it. I'll sing, too. Four thousand seven hundred …”

I joined in. “And forty-one. Four thousand seven hundred and forty-two. Four—”

A servant came in. Sir Uellu wanted the prince again.

Ijori conquered his laughter, touched my shoulder, and left. He could hardly do more with the servant there, but I wished for another kiss.

A noise woke me in the middle of the night before the Sing. I heard muffled banging. I thought of getting up to investigate, but I drifted back to sleep instead.

In the morning something was different. I threw off the bedclothes. I put on my shift and sang:

I stopped. I knew what the difference was. The birds weren't singing.

I
THREW ON
D
AME
Ethele's shawl and poked my head out my door.