Chapter Nine
Morning came far more gently than the evening had left them. Ina woke, though her senses seemed to take some time to join her. First there was warmth. Then there was the weight of blankets and the muffled green light of the marsh room. Then, the simple fact that she was not alone.
Derran lay on one side of her, still asleep, one arm flung half across the pillow as though he had meant to keep hold of her in the night and lost the argument somewhere near dawn.
Karai, on her other side, was awake already, though only just.
His eyes were open, but he had not moved more than a hand’s breadth.
He looked less composed than usual in the morning, which was one of the reasons she liked seeing him then.
No one spoke for a little while. It was too early for wit and too peaceful for duty.
Then Derran stirred, blinked once at the ceiling, and muttered, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Ina turned her head toward him. “What mistake?”
“I slept in the marsh court. This will certainly affect my reputation.”
Karai snorted, saying, “Only if anyone was hoping it would improve.”
Derran looked past Ina at him. “You wake up hostile.”
“I went to sleep hostile. It saves time.”
Ina smiled into the pillow at their banter, knowing it was meant more for her than for each other.
That was how the morning might have gone on, slow and easy, if not for the knock at the door.
All three of them became properly awake at once.
“Come in,” Ina called, after making certain the blankets were in a respectable state.
A servant entered carrying a tray with tea, bread, sliced fruit, and a folded note on a silver leaf-shaped salver. He bowed, averting his eyes from the fact that there was a queen and two princes in only one bed, and held out the message.
“For her Majesty.”
Ina took it, broke the seal, and read. Then she looked up from it, her face as neutral as she could manage it. “Eogan has invited us for a luncheon.”
Derran groaned as if struck.
Karai sat up quickly. “I have business in the burrow court.”
“You do?” said Ina.
“Yes.”
“What business?”
“The sort that’s improved by my presence there.”
Derran was already climbing out of bed. “A tragedy. I too have urgent matters in the sky court.”
“You don’t even know what day it is.”
“I know perfectly well. It’s the day on which I’m unable to lunch with Eogan.”
Ina looked from one to the other. “Cowards.”
“Princes,” corrected Derran, reaching for his discarded shirt. “We delegate suffering whenever possible.”
Karai, who had begun pulling on his own clothes with brisk efficiency, said, “You are the queen. You outrank us. It’s only customary that you bear more of the burden.”
She threw a pillow at him. He caught it and set it aside, hiding his smirk.
Even so, when they left an hour later, each after proper farewells and promises to see her soon, they looked faintly guilty about it.
Derran kissed her forehead with suspicious sweetness, which confirmed the guilt entirely.
Karai pressed her hand once before stepping away, and his expression suggested he would be willing to pay for his crimes later if she demanded it.
They all knew this was not abandonment in her time of need.
They had both shown her the night before that if she needed them, they would set aside whatever thoughts and feelings they had, whether toward each other or something else, and give her anything she asked for.
This was not that. It was not a night in a room that had once been her nightmare.
It was just a luncheon, though perhaps awkward and unpleasant, and she could handle it without them.
She knew that and had already forgiven their charming cowardice.
Ina let them go and dressed for the day, amusement on her lips.
Before departing for the canopy court, she went to bid farewell properly to Lugomir and Jasenka.
They received her in a smaller morning chamber at the edge of the marsh palace, where the walls opened through screened arches onto a long stretch of reed water. Ina gasped the moment she looked down at it.
Faces. So many faces.
“Our honored dead,” Jasenka said at her shoulder, amused. “The water preserves them eternally.”
Ina turned, palid, trying to steady herself enough to find something queenly to say. “I…”
“Come,” Jasenka interrupted before she could struggle much longer. “Before our appetite is ruined.”
She guided Ina to a table where breakfast sat – hot cakes made from marsh grain, a pot of dark tea, preserved figs, fresh butter, and a dish of salted whitefish.
The color in Ina’s face returned, and she noticed then that Jasenka was already dressed in an elaborate red gown.
At her throat lay Lugomir’s gift from the night before.
The necklace looked even more striking in daylight. The great diamonds caught every shift of morning sun. The red center stone, or diamond pretending to be ruby, held a darker glow that never quite left it.
Jasenka saw Ina staring at it and touched the necklace lightly. “I suppose I’m expected to wear it for the next seven days and seven nights without fail.”
Lugomir, appearing beside her with a cup in one hand, leaned over and kissed her neck. “At least.”
Jasenka gave him a look of practiced patience. “You see how new marriage prospers. Expectations rise immediately.”
“We’ve been married a long time!” spluttered Lugomir with a laugh.
“Certainly, and now you behave as though your opinions carry special authority.”
“They do,” he chortled indignantly. “I placed part of my heart in a jewel. Surely that entitles me to some minor privileges.”
Ina laughed. It was easier, in the morning light, to take the strangeness of the gift with good humor. Strange or not, it plainly pleased Jasenka, and that mattered more than Ina’s unease with marsh customs involving internal organs and gemstones.
They spoke pleasantly for some time. The conversation wandered in the comfortable way that follows a successful gathering.
Lugomir complained about the number of ceremonial toasts still awaiting him before the marsh festivities finally ended in several days.
Jasenka said he deserved them for scheduling a week of celebration without consulting her and considering the survival of the hosts.
Ina thanked them both for the invitation and for the room, adding with care that they had shown her kindness in a place where once she had known the opposite.
Neither of them answered that carelessly, both murmuring kind regrets.
At last Ina set down her cup. “I should bid you adieu. Eogan has summoned me to luncheon, and if I delay too long I may have to hear about canopy court punctuality.”
Lugomir and Jasenka exchanged a look. It was brief, but it held enough that Ina noticed.
Jasenka turned back to her. “You know, I’ve been meaning to visit the canopy palace and see dear Eggy.”
“You have?” Ina blushed a little at how hopeful her voice came out.
“I have. And I would be delighted to accompany you now, if you’d have me.”
Lugomir put down his cup. “I regret that I cannot come myself. The marsh court has several more traditions to survive today, and my absence from them would be discussed for years. But you ought not have to face Eogan alone unless you choose to.”
Ina smiled, properly grateful and also somewhat relieved. “I would be glad of the company.”
Jasenka finished her tea and rose, which told Ina that the idea had not occurred to her only in that moment. “Excellent. I shall gather my ladies.”
Lugomir stood as well and kissed Jasenka’s hand with more affection than ceremony. Then he bowed to Ina. “Travel safely.”
“Survive tradition safely,” replied Ina in kind, and with a wink, added, “Try not to place any more organs into jewelry while I’m gone.”
Lugomir looked amused. Jasenka shook her head and walked out with the air of a woman long accustomed to leaving men behind to their own lowly frivolities.
Her ladies joined them shortly after in the marsh court’s outer hall, and Ina had little doubt about why Jasenka had chosen them.
They were all beautiful. Not in some dull uniform way, but each with her own clear kind of grace.
Shayna was golden-brown and broad-eyed, with a smile that came quickly and made people trust her too soon.
Matilde had pale hair braided with little green stones and the composed look of someone who missed nothing and said little about it unless necessary.
Then there was Zuri.
Ina tried not to stare and failed a little.
Zuri’s hair fell in black curls all the way to her waist, and not one of them seemed to have made a poor choice in its life.
Her skin had the smooth, cool perfection of carved porcelain.
Her eyes were the color of amethyst, deep violet with a sparkling brightness to them.
She reminded Ina of Karai, though not in feature exactly.
More in impression. As if both of them had been cut from the same rich stone by the same exacting hand, determined to grace the world with supernatural beauty.
Jasenka noticed where Ina’s gaze had gone and said, with faint dryness, “My newest lady, just joined us a week ago. Yes. She is aware of it. We all are.”
Zuri inclined her head in acknowledgment of this burden. “I try to bear my face modestly.”
Shayna laughed. Matilde did not, but her mouth broadened into a toothy smile.
Ina liked them at once.
They set out not long after, five figures lifting from the marsh court into the bright late morning.
The air was good for flying, steady and not too warm.
They rose above the reeds and dark water channels, over swaying islands of rushes and mats of broad-leafed plants where white blossoms opened to the sun.
Jasenka flew near Ina, while her ladies spread in an easy formation around them.
They spoke as they traveled, mostly of topics unrelated to the ongoing celebration.
Of dressmakers, old marsh tales, the absurdity (and the sense) of certain court customs.
Shayna told a story about a burrow ambassador who had once mistaken fermented reed paste for dessert and been too proud to admit it.
Matilde, in three dry sentences, improved the story considerably.
Even Zuri, who at first seemed the sort to remain lovely and silent, had a humor quick enough to surprise.