Lord Simon smiled charmingly then, gave a quick bow, and said at a normal volume, “Alas, fair Princess. If only I had the time to stay longer. But my carriage leaves tonight back to House Brundt. My Wise Man is staying behind for the remainder of the council meetings. I do hope you will find the time to pay a visit one day. My House isn’t as grand as some, but we would make you feel most welcome.”
Tasia renewed her smile. “Of course you would, my Lord. I will visit as soon as Empire affairs allow it.”
He nodded and strode away, leaving Tasia to wonder at his cryptic message.
Tasia turned, facing her guard. “Did you hear what he said, Joslyn?”
“I did, your Majesty.”
“And what did you make of it?”
But Joslyn didn’t answer. Her eyes looked past the Princess, and she nodded curtly.
Tasia pivoted to see another lord walking her way. She found her smile once more. “Ah, Lord Galen of House Harthing,” she said to Mylla’s father. “It is always such a pleasure to see you.”
Lord Galen, who in his fifty-fifth spring seemed as fit and spry as a man half his age, kneeled before the Princess and kissed the ring bearing the emblem of House Dorsa. She could feel the callouses on his fingers, callouses that Mylla said came from two daily hours of swordplay each morning. It was unlikely Lord Galen would ever see a battle again, but he was the kind of man who kept his fighting skills honed for the sheer exhilaration of it.
He rose. “And you are more beautiful than ever, Princess Natasia. Quite the surprise for all the lords and ambassadors last week to hear that you will be succeeding your father, wasn’t it?”
“Believe me, my Lord, no one was more surprised than me.”
“Oh, come now, Princess,” said Lord Galen with mock chastisement. “I was not surprised. In my daughter’s letters, she always praises how clever you are.”
“I doubt she meant the kind of clever that can guide an empire,” Tasia said, and they both laughed.
“And speaking of my daughter,” said Lord Galen, “is she caring for you well?”
“Of course she is,” Tasia said. “I don’t know what I would do without the Lady Mylla.”
“You’ll have to learn to live without her soon,” said the Lord. “She accepted a marriage proposal a fortnight ago.”
Tasia’s smile faltered. “Is that so? I thought Lady Mylla was still meeting with potential suitors.” Unable to stop herself, she asked, “Who is it?”
Lord Galen chuckled. “No, she only met one suitor. They were quite taken with one another from the start, I must say. She dines with him almost every chance she has, as his grandfather has been staying in the Ambassador Quarter for the council meetings.”
“Who?” Tasia repeated, trying her best to feign polite and curious inquiry.
“Umfrey of House Farrimont,” said Lord Galen. “So I said ‘his grandfather,’ but I suppose I might as well have said ‘yours.’”
“Umfrey?” Tasia repeated, and now the smile faded from her face completely. “But Umfrey of House Farrimont is my…”
“Your first cousin,” Lord Galen confirmed with a nod. “And I must say, a proposal from a House tied so intimately to your own is quite a victory for House Harthing. Between me and you, however,” he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially, “I think my daughter worries that she’s grown too accustomed to the capital’s warm climate. I believe she’s thinking of delaying the wedding simply to avoid moving to the Zaris Mountains during winter.”
Tasia tried to match Lord Galen’s smile, but her mind was spinning.
Umfrey of House Farrimont. Her first cousin. Her uncle’s oldest son. Umfrey who would become the Lord of House Farrimont once his — their — grandfather died. Why didn’t Mylla tell her? Was she afraid of how the Princess would react? And why would Lord Hermant permit such a marriage? House Farrimont was strong, with long-standing ties to House Dorsa. House Harthing, though… there were few noble Houses smaller in the entire Empire.
“Quite a victory for House Harthing, indeed,” she said woodenly.
Lord Galen winked. “You know first-hand how charming my daughter can be. I think she simply won the young man over before he knew what was happening to him.”
Tasia regained control of the muscles around her mouth and forced her lips to smile again. “I am sure Lady Mylla will want a marriage as soon as she comes of age. A union between House Harthing and House Farrimont will doubtless be beneficial for both families.”
“Yes, I believe so.” Lord Galen took Tasia’s hand again, raising it to his lips and kissing the seal of the House of Dorsa on her ring. “Perhaps you can convince her of that for me.”
“I will certainly try, my Lord,” Tasia said.
“Good day, Princess.”
She watched his receding back as he threaded through the crowd.
A light touch on her elbow brought her mind back into the room.
“Princess?” Joslyn said softly in her ear. “Are you alright?”
“I will be.”
“Would you like to stay longer? Or shall we return to your chambers now?”
Tasia felt her head nodding. “Yes. Returning sounds like an excellent idea.”
She allowed Joslyn to lead her from the ballroom.
15
“She’s getting married, Joslyn,” Tasia said as they walked back through the long palace corridors.
“Yes, that’s what young women tend to do,” Joslyn said wryly.
“But she didn’t tell me. The proposal came two weeks ago — two weeks! She’s known for weeks and she hasn’t told me. She’s let me believe she’s met multiple suitors, and doesn’t like any of them.”
“Given all the changes you’ve gone through over the past several weeks, perhaps she didn’t want to add to your burden,” suggested the guard.
Tasia shook her head. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand what Mylla and I… you don’t understand what we are to each other.”
Joslyn was quiet for a moment. “Tasia,” she said gently, “I sleep in the anteroom next to your bedchamber. I know quite well what the Lady Mylla is to you.”
Tasia felt her cheeks burn. She’d suspected that Joslyn understood that the relationship between Princess and handmaid extended beyond mere friendship, but she supposed she’d preferred just suspecting and not knowing for certain.
“I feel like… I feel like I might shatter,” she confessed to the guard. Tears threatened, but she held them at bay. “My ascendency, the trip to the Eastern war front — why did I agree to that so easily? And now Mylla… and she isn’t marrying just any ordinary lord, Joslyn. She’s marrying my cousin. My mother’s nephew. The heir to my grandfather’s House.” She watched her feet move forward down the smooth marble of the hallway, wondering how they kept moving even when it felt like she wanted to collapse. “It’s too much. It’s all too much.”
“It’s not,” Joslyn said. “You just need to rest. That is what my ku-sai used to say to me: ‘When you face a problem with no solutions, rest and look again.’”