“Take care of these,” Alastair said, and handed the captain the knife from his sword-belt.
“I will indeed, sir. With my life.”
“Good.”
“And the second?”
“What?”
The captain nodded to the glint of a hilt peeping from the top of Alastair’s boot. Alastair flushed and removed it, tossing it into the guard’s arms.
“Thank you, my lord. My lady.” The guard’s eyes flickered dismissively over my surcoat, lingered for a moment with a hint of confusion on the brooch that did not contain Alastair’s lamia heartstone pinned to my bodice, and bowed slightly. “Herald?” he said, and the herald resumed his responsibility of us.
He motioned toward the open door. “This way, if you please. I shall announce you.” He took up his place to the side of the door, bowed to the occupants within, and tapped his staff of office. “Your Royal Majesty, Your Royal Highness, may I present Lady Catriona Daired, Lord Alastair Daired, Captain Edmund Daired, Lady Julienna Daired, and Lady Aliza Daired.”
Head held high, gripping Alastair’s arm like the last anchor in a storm, I followed the others inside.
Chapter 19
The Silent King
Courtiers and council officials in festive clothes swept aside to allow our party through. Candlelight glittered over earrings and necklaces, crests of office and heartstone brooches in every color imaginable. My eye snagged on one figure in plain gray robes, a jarring absence amidst the riot of jewels, and I nodded to High Cantor Tauren. He returned the gesture with a knowing look that took a measure of anxiety off my shoulders. Lady Catriona was right; we weren’t here without allies.
“Ah, Daireds!” King Harrold came forward, waving for Lady Catriona to rise from her curtsy. He seized her hand and kissed it. “My friends, welcome.”
The queen consort appeared at his side with a smile. Unlike her husband, who wore the traditional white-and-green robes of Arlean royalty, she had dressed in the style of her homeland, in the silk shawl and veiled headdress of a Garhadi-born noblewoman. The cloth shimmered in shades of emerald and peacock-blue. Queen Callina’s outfit was calculated, a subtle but meaningful acknowledgment of common ground between the Islands and Arle. I cast a sideways glance toward the tables to my left. Delicacies of half a dozen nations lay among wreaths of winter ivy, and around the tables clustered representatives from the Garhadi embassy. They watched us with expressions that, though not unfriendly, were decidedly cool. This is where the treaty negotiations begin, I thought. In the wardrobe and over the hors d’oeuvres.
“You honor us with your presence,” Queen Callina said, embracing Lady Catriona when the king released her. “You’re all most welcome.” She turned to Alastair and his sister. “You’re looking well, my lord. And my goodness, Lady Julienna, how you’ve grown since I last saw you!”
Julienna, blushing fiercely, ducked her head in a curtsy as embarrassed as it was elegant. King Harrold chuckled. “Lord Alastair, Captain Edmund, come with me. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”
Alastair gave me a meaningful look over his shoulder as he followed the king.
“And you must be Lady Aliza.”
Julienna’s blush had nothing on mine. I felt the weight of Queen Callina’s royal attention like some colossal gemstone, rich and heavy, and prayed my nerves would not get the best of me. My wits already felt scattered, my tongue thick. My knee creaked as I curtsied.
“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”
“And I you, my lady.” She studied me for a moment, lips curling upward in an enigmatic smile. “We’ve all heard such stories.”
There was a pause: expectant on her end, frantic on mine, as I realized she was waiting for me to seize the offered threads of conversation. Royalty or not, however, I had no desire to talk of old battles. “Your wedding gift was most generous,” I said at last, thinking of the beautiful Pelagian mares she and the king had sent us. “Thank you.”
“A gift deserved is a delight to the giver as much as the gifted. And this was well deserved,” she said, and paused again with that expectant gleam in her eye.
Lady Catriona saved me. “How is your family, Your Highness? Any word from the prince lately?”
“Oh, Darragh is quite caught up in his studies. Always forgets to write, but I can’t blame him. Stoneholm University is reputed to have a fascinating library.”
“Do you expect him to return soon?” Julienna ventured.
“Not until springtime. That is, springtime in Nordenheath. I understand that’s nearly summer for us.” She heaved a sigh full of maternal worry. “The dear boy has his father’s blood. Never minded the cold, either of them, but the thought of a nine-month winter makes me tremble. Ah! Halat, there you are.”
A Garhadi man in a silken robe dyed bright fuchsia turned from his contemplation of the food, particularly a pair of pixies made from spun sugar. He bowed to Queen Callina, then adjusted the monocle over his left eye and peered at us. “Twins preserve me, what an honor!” he said in crisply accented Arlean. “My ladies Daired, your humble servant.”
“The Honorable Master Hallam-Halat is the ambassador from the Islands,” the queen-consort explained. “Earlier this afternoon I understand Lady Catriona expressed a desire to bend your ear, Halat. Isn’t that right?”
“It is, and thank you, Your Highness,” Lady Catriona said and moved closer to the ambassador. Unthinkingly, Julienna and I did as well, but before they began to speak, a hand plucked at my sleeve. I turned to see a woman a few years younger than me, Arlean by her complexion but dressed in sweeping Garhadi robes in butter-yellow.
I caught the annoyed aye? on the tip of my tongue and reeled it back. “Yes?” I said in what I hoped was a gracious tone.
“Oh! It is you. Well, that’s a relief and no mistake.” She chuckled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “That ‘Charissong’ had me fearing you’d be some great and terrible shieldmaiden. Just shows, doesn’t it? It’s as I tell my boys: you should never trust everything you hear in Taleteller’s Circle. Of course, they’d rather—”
“Begging your pardon, madam. Have we met?”
“Leaf and Lightning, look at me! Run off again like the pixie that got into the mead.” She curtsied, a very pretty, strange curtsy that involved the corner of the veil she wore half wrapped around her glossy blond curls. “Neira Hallam-Halat, wife to that old pickle yonder,” she said fondly, gesturing with another crinkle-eyed smile to the ambassador, who was now deep in conversation with Julienna and Lady Catriona.
I returned her curtsy. “Aliza—”
“Aliza Daired, nakla bride of the great Lord Alastair, hero of North Fields and bearer of— Oh,” she said, eyes running over my heartstone-less bodice much as the Captain of the Guard’s had earlier. “Well, yes. Needless to say, we’ve heard of you! Even in the Islands the story of the War of the Worm is spreading.”
“You’re kind, Lady Hallam-Halat.”
“Goodness me, Neira, please. You’ll choke if you insist on saying that whole thing again.”
I smiled and allowed Neira to guide us to the opposite side of the food tables, closer to the windows and farther from listening ears. “Lady Neira, then. You wished to speak to me?”