“Oh, I don’t remember,” Mylla said, waving a dismissive hand. “Hubert or Herbert or Humphrey or something as boring as he is. I’ll end up lying beneath him while he ruts and I’ll try to imagine he’s you.” She got up abruptly, her back to Tasia as she gathered the dirty plates. “So what is your schedule for the day? Lessons with Wise Man Evrart at half-past, then moving rocks up and down the beach with the nomad after that?”
“Not today,” Tasia said with a sigh. “Today the spring council meetings begin. Though honestly, I don’t know which is worse — the council meetings, listening to Wise Man Evrart go on and on about the way ancient folklore has infiltrated modern literature, or having to run up the beach in boys’ trousers carrying rocks. They all seem like varying degrees of torture to me.”
“And remind me again what carrying rocks has to do with self-defense?” Mylla asked, brushing crumbs from the table.
“Mother Moon bless us if I know,” said Tasia. “Apparently, Joslyn thinks I have to get stronger before I can be trusted with actual self-defense techniques.”
“I have no love for the nomad,” Mylla said, “but I must admit that I am glad you will be learning to defend yourself. The situation certainly seems unusual, but I would never have recovered if that fake Wise Man had killed you that night.”
Tasia grew quiet. Her brush with death wasn’t a memory she liked to go back to.
“I’m sorry,” Mylla said. She came up behind the Princess and kissed Tasia’s bare neck. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It’s alright,” Tasia said. “I know you only said it because you care for me.”
“I care for you more than you’ll ever know, Tazy,” said the handmaid, and she kissed the Princess’s neck again, this time letting her lips linger a moment. “I want you to be safe, no matter what it takes. Even if you have to be shadowed by that woman for the rest of your life.”
“Mylla?”
“Yes, sweet Princess?”
“They’re still out there,” Tasia said. “Whoever wanted me dead, I mean. I can just… I can feel it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of the lords who’s here for the spring council meetings. Maybe he’ll even be in the room tomorrow. Maybe he’ll — ”
“Stop that,” Mylla said. She draped one arm around Tasia’s shoulders and sat in the Princess’s lap. “You’ll give yourself nightmares, talking like that. You’ll give me nightmares, for that matter.”
“You’re right, but… why would someone want to kill me? I’m not special.”
Mylla threw her head back and laughed. “Not special? You’re the eldest child of the Emperor. You’re the first female heir to the crown in a thousand years. How can you say you’re not special?”
“But I wasn’t heir until just a few days ago,” Tasia argued. “Hardly anyone outside the palace Wise Men and you even know yet.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Mylla said, shaking her head. “You’re still the daughter of the Emperor, and you’re his favorite. No, don’t argue with me — you are. You always have been, even when Nik was alive. If someone wanted to strike at the Emperor, they would strike at you first.”
“Maybe,” Tasia said doubtfully. It still didn’t make sense that someone would try to kill her. “I wish the assassin hadn’t died before we got more information out of him. He gave us absolutely nothing to go by. Unless you count that knife…”
Mylla snorted. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re humoring the nomad’s theory?” She waggled her fingers and mocked a menacing face. “Is the Cult of Culo coming after you, my little princess?”
Tasia chose to ignore the jest. “It all just seems so strange.”
“Come on, Tazy. You’re a smart girl; can you truly not think of any reasons why someone might try to have you killed?” Mylla said. “To begin with, there is the simple fact that you are the Princess and the eldest child of the Emperor, which makes you a target out of jealousy or vengeance if nothing else. Do you think your father has no enemies?” She paused a moment after the rhetorical question, then answered it herself. “House Harthing allied with your father during the Western Rebellion, but I know — and you know — that there are Western lords who still give the Empire only grudging loyalty. I’m sorry to be the one to say this, sweet princess, but there are definitely lords in the West who would kill you just out of spite, if they thought they could get away with it.”
Tasia blanched, but she knew Mylla was right. Living in the palace as she did, with every lord who met her dropping to a knee and kissing her ring sycophantically, it was easy to forget how many of them still probably hated her father for putting down their rebellion. She knew that Norix and General Remington both thought he should have executed more of the Western lords than he did. But Father argued that his mercy was the only thing that kept the Empire together after the rebellion was over. That was why they called him “Andreth the Just” — he was fair instead of cruel after the rebellion ended.
“But that is just spite and vengeance,” Mylla went on. “Don’t forget there is also political expediency. Who knows what schemes may be afoot to pressure your father through you or through Adela. After all, your father has only two blood heirs.” She cocked an eyebrow, looking puzzled. “Though why your father won’t simply take another wife and make new heirs is beyond me. I’m sure he could find a highborn woman he found pretty enough to bring his soldier to attention. Then he and his member could simply make another son, and he wouldn’t have to name a daughter heir to the — ”
“Could you please not speak so coarsely?” Tasia said. “They may be just the House of Dorsa to you, but for me, Father and Adela are the only family I have left. Especially if Lord Hermant is cutting ties with Father.”
Mylla stopped, genuine remorse showing in her eyes. She leaned down, gave Tasia a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re right, Tazy. I’m sorry.”
She leaned closer and kissed Tasia again — a real kiss this time. Tasia resisted at first, but then relaxed, parting her lips to permit Mylla’s tongue to meet her own. They sat there like that for a long few minutes, Mylla with her arms wrapped around Tasia’s shoulders, Tasia’s hands finding their way beneath Mylla’s dress.
A knock sounded on the bedchamber door. Mylla hastily hopped out of Tasia’s lap, smoothing down her dress. Tasia tucked back a few errant blonde curls.
“Enter,” the Princess called formally.
Joslyn walked into the room and gave a short bow. She was dressed in her palace guard blacks, the leather gleaming with fresh oil. “Are you ready for the council meeting, Princess?”
Tasia rose from the table and walked to her vanity, checking her braid, straightening her necklace. Today everything needed to be perfect.
She turned to Mylla. “Well. Wish me luck.”
Mylla put her hands on her hips, smirking. “A princess at the spring council meetings. Some of the older lords will probably die of a heart attack.”
Tasia smiled, but her stomach churned.