She thought for a moment, then said, “Yes. I’d like to know what to look for in his behaviour. Otherwise I’ll offend him again, and I don’t want to.”
I couldn’t help but cast a glance over my shoulder, toward the stairs and my work. “Now?”
“No,” Cora said. “I want to sit here for a while. And I’ll do the same thing.” She saw my confusion and added, “Let you know. If I want to talk about it. My parents, I mean.”
Never in my life have I felt so self-conscious about having a healthy, loving family. I tugged my dress straight, even though it didn’t need it, and said, “Then—if you’re sure you’re all right—”
Cora shrugged, hand drifting back to her hair. “I’m not. But I will be.”
It was a clear dismissal, but not an unfriendly one. I went downstairs to join Kudshayn and the tablets, and we spent the rest of the day working very pleasantly together . . . but I have written this all down so I will not forget it. I am not as good at being considerate of people as Lotte is, but that’s no excuse not to try.
FIFTEEN YEARS PREVIOUSLY
From: Kudshayn
To: The Sanctuary of Wings
To the elders of the Sanctuary of Wings, I give greetings under the light of the sun, on the footing of the earth.
I lower my wings in shame. I am no fit diplomat to represent our people. Though my mother laid her clutch in a place that might allow her hatchlings to survive well beyond the Sanctuary, that only gives me the physical ability to travel in greater comfort. It does not make me skilled, or knowledgeable, or wise.
Today I faced my first test as an ambassador, and I failed.
I failed, and Teslit suffered for it.
Agarzt believes—or believed—that the time has come for me to begin attending official events, so that I can begin lifting some of the burden from those sisters who have carried it until now. In my pride, I agreed. We arranged with the emperor to have a formal meeting with some representatives from Scirland at his palace in Ongnan, and so I have been here for the last two weeks.
Teslit is here with me. She has no intention of participating in the meetings, but at this time of year the climate in Ongnan is no worse than at home, and the emperor’s physicians can care for her as well here as anywhere else. The journey tired her out, so she has been resting since we arrived. Today she was feeling well enough that she asked if we could go for a walk through the gardens, which the emperor has told us we may do. Since I will be busy with official matters beginning tomorrow—or at least, I was supposed to be; that may change now—I was happy to go along.
The Ongnan Palace is one built by an earlier emperor for the purpose of leisure. It is not heavily defended like the palaces in Phautan or Tho Giulio. But there are many guards here right now because the emperor is in residence, and they were patrolling the gardens, because the walls there are not very high and someone could easily climb in.
Someone did climb in.
I saw her drop out of a tree from a little distance away. A human girl, small and skinny, and at that distance I thought she was perhaps Kengumet, because she was darker-skinned than the Yelangese usually are, and her hair was very curly. I am fairly certain she hadn’t seen me and Teslit, because we were screened by a stand of bamboo; she turned the other direction and began to move through the garden, keeping behind bushes and trees where she could.
This was my first failure. I should have immediately told the guards there was an intruder. But because she was so small—I wasn’t sure of her age, but now I know she is eight—I thought there was no need.
Instead I asked Teslit, “Should we follow her?”
Teslit rattled her wings in amusement and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be an ambassador to humans? She looks human.”
My second failure is that I did not suggest Teslit should wait, or go back to our rooms. I don’t know if she would have agreed, but I should have thought to say it. I know how easily my sister can be hurt, but I didn’t stop to think that I might be leading her into danger.
We followed the girl. She was not as stealthy as she thought; the guards would have spotted her very soon. But none of them had come upon her yet when Teslit and I caught up and I said in Yelangese, “Greetings under the light of the sun, on the footing of the earth.”
My third failure is that I did not wait to say that until after she had finished skirting the edge of a fishpond.
The girl yelped and fell in. The ponds in the Ongnan Palace are deep enough, and she was small enough, that I was worried she might be at risk of drowning if she did not know how to swim. I cannot swim either, but I have grown a great deal these last six months, and am tall enough that I could stand on the pond’s bottom and be safe. So I immediately ran forward to help her.
It turned out the girl did not need my help. By the time I reached the edge of the pond, she had paddled over and hoisted herself out without reaching for my hand. I realized, too late, that seeing a Draconean leaning over and reaching for her might be frightening, but she didn’t seem intimidated at all. She only wiped her hair out of her face and said in Scirling, “You’re a Draconean!”
I am so used to people being either afraid of us or peculiarly fascinated, but she seemed to take my existence for granted. She looked past me to Teslit and said, “Two of you! Let’s see—your ruffs are different, and if I remember right, it’s the males that have the more interesting patterns on theirs. So you’re female, which means you’re Teslit?” Then she turned to me. “And you’re male, so that makes you Kudshayn. I think. Unless I got it backward.”
“You have it correct,” I said. My fourth failure: at this point I could not think what to say. I have spent days practicing for the official meetings, but had not made any preparations for speaking to a small wet girl on the edge of a fishpond.
“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you. Grandmama said this is a fairly small palace as palaces go, but it looks big enough that I could have missed you pretty easily. And I wanted to meet you before tomorrow, because it will be stuffy and boring and we won’t have any chance to talk.”
She spoke Scirling rapidly enough that I had trouble following her words—I need to practice more with that language. The girl noticed my confusion . . . and promptly repeated herself in our tongue.
At that point I lost all proper courtesy and only said, “Who are you?”
“Audrey Camherst,” she said, as if that should have been obvious. “I’m Lady Trent’s granddaughter.”
Failing to guess her identity was my fifth failure. Agarzt and I were given a list of everyone who would be attending the meeting, and Audrey Camherst was among them; I knew she would be young, and I have met both of her parents, so I knew she would be half Scirling, half Erigan. Up close, she did not look Kengumet anymore. And what other human child would default to speaking Scirling, then repeat herself in our language without so much as a pause to think?
But these are my small failures. My great one had yet to come.
I was about to suggest she come with the two of us back to our rooms, where we had towels she could use to dry off, when a shout came from the direction of the palace. Three of the guards had seen us. And while Teslit and I were permitted to be there, Audrey was not.