Chapter Five #3
Though she had vowed never to do so, Ellie had once again donned her green dress and her mother’s bridal chemise, hoping that it would bring more luck this time than it had the last. Her mother had helped her put up her hair in a soft, flattering style of curls and intricate plaits, held down by a set of long-toothed ivory combs.
She wore no jewelry. She had none. But Kieran of the Fey had presented her with a girdle of delicate gold links and a sheath for Belliard’s knife, decorated with six small, lovely jewels that shone red, blue, green, white, black, and lavender.
The knife fit the sheath perfectly and now rested snugly on her right hip, pressed against the folds of her green gown.
Belliard had said nothing when he saw it, but his eyes had flickered for a moment and she knew he was pleased.
An important-looking little man in elegant clothes met them at the top of the palace stairs.
He greeted them with a gracious bow and introduced himself as the Right Honorable Ser Taneth Marcet, Undersecretary to the Minister of State.
“If you and your family will follow me, please, Master Baristani.”
He led them into the palace, down several marble-floored hallways, and into a luxurious antechamber.
Ellie had never seen such wealth. Massive portraits of royal Celierian ancestors adorned the walls, their painted eyes looking down with imperious detachment.
Gorgeous ivory brocade chairs overflowed with tasseled ice-blue and deep rose pillows.
A rich, exquisitely carved sideboard of solid burlwood rested against one wall, its lustrous top covered with silver trays bearing all manner of fruits, comfits, tiny finger sandwiches, and delicate pastries.
On a nearby cart rested a three-legged silver urn with eggshell-thin porcelain cups, tiny silver spoons, and a selection of sugars and creams elegantly presented around it.
After a brief investigation of the antechamber, the Fey settled themselves into the four corners of the room, and Belliard stood beside Ellie.
The Undersecretary gestured to the food and drink. “The refreshments are yours to enjoy,” he told them, and he backed out of the room.
“Ser! Wait! Can you please tell us—” Sol’s voice died off as the doors closed.
Lillis and Lorelle made a beeline for the comfits and had already jammed three or four of the delicate candies in their mouths before Lauriana noticed and rapped out a sharp order to desist.
“But, Mama,” Lorelle objected around the mass of sweets in her mouth, “the man said we could help ourselves.”
“And have powdered sugar and chocolate stains all over you as a result? I think not. And don’t talk with your mouth full, Lorelle.”
The twins pouted, but as soon as their mother turned her attention back to Sol and Ellie, they each snatched another handful of comfits and hurried to plop themselves down on one of the large chairs facing away from their parents, where they proceeded to furtively nibble their purloined treats.
Ellie shook her head and noticed that the Fey named Kieran was smiling again.
“Well,” said Lauriana. “It looks as though they intend to keep us in suspense. As it’s obvious we’re being treated as guests rather than prisoners, you would think someone would tell us what’s going on.”
“I imagine we’ll know soon enough,” Sol replied in a distracted voice. Ellie cast him a surprised glance, only to smile fondly as she recognized the cause of his distraction. His attention was riveted by the carving on the burlwood sideboard, and he crouched down beside the piece to inspect it.
“Exquisite,” he breathed, running a hand over the intricate designs that had obviously been worked by a master.
“Laurie, my dearest, come look at this workmanship. I’ve never seen finer.
I wonder who did this. One of the old masters, no doubt.
Probably Centarro. It looks old enough, and the amount of detail—amazing!
—is right for the period. Maybe Purcel .
. . but no, he was never one to work with burlwood .
. .” Completely absorbed, Sol pulled a small magnifying glass from his suit pocket and began looking for the tiny master’s seal that was sure to be hidden somewhere on the carving.
Ellie, having skipped breakfast in the morning’s rush, reached over him to help herself to a buttery fruit-and-nut-filled pastry, then moved to the cart to pour a cup of dark, steaming keflee into one of the delicate cups provided for that purpose.
Holding the warm cup to her nose, she breathed deep of the spice-scented aroma and sighed happily.
She poured a healthy dollop of honeyed cream into the bittersweet drink and took a sip, closing her eyes in bliss.
Nothing should taste so lovely as this. Rich, creamy, sweet, spicy, with just enough bitterness to make it full-bodied.
She rolled the flavors around on her tongue and nearly moaned in pleasure.
“The gods’ blessings on whoever discovered keflee,” she murmured, opening her eyes to find all the Fey watching her in fascination. Her chin came up in defiance of the blush warming her cheeks. “Well, surely some of the Fey must like it too?” she challenged.
“Aiyah.” That came from the blond-haired warrior named Kiel. “Many do. But few who . . . enjoy it . . . so well.”
Before Ellie could respond, the doors at the far end of the room opened wide and the doorman announced in ringing tones, “Her Majesty, Queen Annoura of Celieria.”
Lauriana gasped and fell into a deep, awkward curtsey while beside her Sol bent nearly double in a bow.
The twins froze in the process of stuffing the last of the comfits in their mouths, then, in a flash of petticoats and pantalets, they tumbled off the chair and hid behind it, only their quivering bows visible over the stuffed arms of the chair.
Ellie looked at the cup of keflee in her one hand and the pastry in the other, and spent a frantic moment searching for a suitable place to set them.
Belliard came to her rescue, taking the cup and pastry so she could sink into her own curtsey.
“Please rise.” If the queen found their blatant nervousness amusing, she didn’t let on. Her voice was pleasant and warmly modulated. “Master Baristani, a pleasure to meet you at last.”
As her father replied, Ellie rose to her feet, clasped her hands tightly together, and stared in wide-eyed fascination at the woman who was queen of all Celieria.
She was a tiny woman, with delicate features and large blue eyes in a lovely heart-shaped face.
Pale hair, so fine it looked like spun sugar, was piled high in an elaborate cascade of curls threaded liberally with ropes of pearls and gold.
About her throat she wore a gold necklace dripping with sapphires and diamonds that must have cost the yearly wages of the entire West End.
She was a walking testimony to the privilege of the upper class, and Ellie was suddenly very conscious of her own humble dress and even humbler beginnings.
“And you must be Ellysetta.” The queen was standing before her, smiling, her delicate, milky white hands outstretched. “My dear, I have heard quite a bit about you.”
Ellie stared at those perfect, satin-skinned hands and reluctantly placed her own much rougher ones in them. “Your Majesty,” she blurted, hoping to draw attention away from her chapped skin and ragged fingernails, “I am honored to meet you. Though I am still not certain why we were summoned.”
The queen patted her hand. “Patience is a virtue, my dear. All will reveal itself in good time.” She flashed a small, conspiratorial smile. “In truth, I’m not supposed to be here myself, but I simply couldn’t stand the curiosity any longer.”
“Curiosity, ma’am?”
“About you, dear. About you.” The lovely blue eyes narrowed a bit.
“I would have thought the Fey would have seen to your dress before bringing you to the palace. Well, pay no mind to the gossiping tongues.” She walked around Ellie, inspecting her from all sides.
“You are quite a bit younger than I would have imagined. And not much to look at, though you show definite promise. Skinny. And very, very tall. Dear me, a veritable giant. Please tell me you’ve stopped growing. ”
Taken aback by the unexpected attack delivered in such sweet tones, Ellie stepped away from the queen.
Had the woman brought her here merely to insult her looks?
Surely a queen should be above such cruel entertainment.
Ellie’s hands fell to her sides, and the right one brushed the hard metal sheath housing Belliard’s knife.
Her fingers clasped around it with sudden need.
The feel of the cool metal, the tiny pebbles of the six stones, the sturdy hilt of Bel’s Fey’cha dagger, made Ellie’s nervousness fade.
She, Ellie Baristani, tall, skinny, not very attractive Ellie, was the woman Rain Tairen Soul had declared to be his shei’tani.
Her spine went stiff. She straightened to her full—and quite considerable—height. Her shoulders squared, her eyes flashed, and she lifted her chin, staring down her nose at the tiny queen. “Come to think of it, Your Majesty, I believe I must still be growing. Either that, or you are shrinking.”
“Ellie!” Lauriana and Sol gasped her name together.
Kieran burst out laughing, and Belliard—too-solemn Belliard—actually smiled.
Queen Annoura’s limpid blue eyes sharpened, and she eyed Ellie with new respect. “Very good, my dear,” she purred. “I see you are not without claws of your own. You may just survive the coming days after all.”
Ellie smiled, showing her teeth. “You may count on it, Your Majesty.”
The queen inclined her head, and Ellie returned the gesture warily.
“Enough of my little entertainment.” Queen Annoura glanced at Belliard.
“The Feyreisa and her parents will remain here until they are called. I will send someone for the children. I’m sure they would much rather play in the palace garden than stay cooped up in this room.
I trust you have no objection, Madam Baristani?
No? Good. Nurse will be eager to have such pretty little charges in her care, and I’ll be sure she knows not to feed them too many more comfits. ”
In a swish of perfumed skirts, she was gone.
Ellie sank into the nearest chair, covering her face with shaking hands.
“Ellysetta Baristani!” Lauriana flew across the room to stand before her daughter, hands on hips, the light of maternal outrage in her eye. “What were you thinking, speaking like that to the queen? I never raised you to be so rag-mannered!”
“I don’t know,” Ellie groaned. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“The tairen, I think,” Belliard replied, his cobalt eyes gleaming bright rather than dark.
“I made a fool of myself. I spoke rudely to the queen.”
“You spoke like the Feyreisa. You brought pride to this Fey.” He glanced at his Fey brethren and cried, “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa! Joy to the Feyreisa!”
“Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!” the other four shouted back.
Then the very walls seemed to shake with an echoing roar as nearly two hundred Fey voices shouting in unison rose from all parts of the palace.
“Good sweet Lord of Light!” Lauriana exclaimed.
Ellie just stared at her quintet in dismay and prayed her queasy, lurching stomach would settle soon, before she humiliated herself beyond all hope of recovery.