Chapter 38
I n the end, only Driz wound up sleeping on my floor; Yenny was carried out by his trumpeters, and the others managed to stagger out under their own power, except for Calla, who stayed upstairs with me, talking late enough that the first hint of the dawn was creeping in through the darkness by the time we parted ways.
We haven’t really had a chance to catch up in years.
It was nice to talk to a friend. Bash had vanished at some point, I think supporting some prince or another in his wake, and I threw myself into my conversation with Calla so I wouldn’t have to think about him, or about Amaritha’s pronouncement about him.
Somehow, beneath the scents of wine and bacon sandwiches (courtesy of the inn’s kitchens), I could still catch the faint trace of sea salt and sand in the air, long after he had gone and even the owls had gone to sleep.
I went downstairs to my own room after Calla left and dropped heavily into bed, and slept soundly for the three hours I had to myself before the cat leaped on me and demanded breakfast.
Knowing what is likely coming at some point today—though not before noon, I suspect—I dress more formally than usual, in a dark blue dress with yellow and orange flowers embroidered up and down the full sleeves.
I’d stopped putting my hair into braids or buns every day: no princess of the Widdenmar is meant to be seen with her hair down once she reaches her majority, at age thirteen, but I’d found wearing it down, or only pulling some of it back into a braid, was rather freeing.
Today, however…I decide it’d be better not to leave myself vulnerable on that front, and spend a little longer than usual putting it up.
I haven’t got anything that bespeaks royalty to wear—not a jeweled necklace, not a ring, certainly not a tiara or any sort of sash or chain or medal—though I know it’ll be expected.
I slip the bookstore key from my neck and stare at it.
It’s really more a lucky charm at this point than anything else.
I hang the key—Mrs. Gooch’s key—on a nail by the door and then, feeling suddenly a little vulnerable, dig around in the bowl full of odd little things Bash has left and pull out one of the tiny shells.
There’s a hole through it, so I string it on the ribbon and put it back on, under my dress.
There; a good luck charm. It won’t be enough for what’s coming, but it’s a start.
I spend the day in a riot of agitation; every footstep outside makes me start, and my heart races every time the bell over the door tinkles, but by the time the temple bells toll three and Sasha and Amaritha come strolling in—hand in hand, I note—nothing has happened.
“We haven’t missed it, have we?” Sasha says, glancing around.
I shake my head.
“The Barn Pirate’s not here anyway,” Amaritha points out. “He wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good point,” Sasha says, and then the two vanish upstairs to go do whatever it is they’re going to do upstairs. Hold hands and talk about their feelings, I presume. I hope Sasha’s had her first kiss by now.
The door chimes again about an hour later, and this time it’s Bash. “I’m not too late, am I?”
I sigh. “No, you haven’t missed anything.”
“There’s a massive crowd outside the inn, so I assumed I hadn’t,” he says, then looks me up and down.
I groan. “The only thing that’s happened so far is young love, exploring their feelings upstairs.”
“Adorable,” he says, settling into his usual place on the staircase.
“It could be hours,” I warn him.
“I can wait.”
“What’s the point?”
He shrugs. “Each one of these kisses has been more interesting than the last. By that logic…” He stops and eyes me again. “Also, you look different today.”
I smooth my skirt down. “It’ll be easier with Astebaen if I’m dressed…a little more formally.”
“Easier,” he repeats, his question implicit in the word.
“You see, Astebaen is…” I begin, and then stop. “Maybe it’s better if you just see for yourself.”
“Who is this guy?” he says. “I don’t know anything about the palatinate of Astebal. I’ve never even met an Astebani. We tend to stay well away from the island. They have an enthusiastic navy.”
“They’re very formal,” I say.
He snorts. “More formal than a prince who travels with six fanfare trumpeters?”
“Significantly.”
He pauses. “Are you nervous?” He sounds almost incredulous at the idea.
“I am, actually,” I say.
“Fishballs, Tandy, why? What have you got to be nervous about? Do you…” He stops. “You don’t think it’ll actually work this time, do you?”
“No, not at all,” I rush to say. “It’s not that.”
He tilts his head, considering me. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see, then.”
I gesture broadly toward the bookcases. “You could pass the time by reading up on Astebani culture,” I suggest.
“Too much work,” he says, relaxing back into his usual half slouch.
“Honestly, how did you ever get by as a pirate captain with that attitude?”
“I may have been a terrible pirate captain,” he says.
“Captain of a rowboat; crew of three oysters and a bucket.”
“And a seagull,” he agrees. “My first mate.”
“That’s Sasha’s theory, anyway,” I say. “That you were bad at it.”
He shrugs. “There you go.”
I shake my head. “Suit yourself.”
“Don’t I always,” he says, and it’s not a question.
The girls come downstairs at sunset. “Do you think he’s going to come today?” Sasha asks, a little anxiously. “Mom is pretty strict about dinnertime. I could send her a note?”
“I’m sure they’ll be along by the end of the day.” I pause. “Night. Before midnight, in any event.”
“Apparently they’re formal,” Bash adds.
Amaritha and Sasha exchange a look, one which expresses far more than words ever could. “I could just risk it,” Sasha says, musingly. “Get grounded for a week if I’m home late.”
I pull out my stationery and dash off a quick note, and hand it to her.
“Run this home, will you? If Astebaen shows up before you’re back, I’ll delay him.
It’ll take quite a while before the actual kiss anyway, once they’re here.
Do you need a note?” I ask Amaritha, as Sasha grabs the letter and takes off running.
“Nah, my parents are like, We totally trust you; just don’t stay out all night. I’m fine.”
“Lucky.” I smile.
She smiles, affectionately. “They’re such weird old hippies, honestly.”
Sasha’s back in less than a quarter of an hour, out of breath and grinning.
“Mom says it’s a good experience for me and she’d be here herself but that, uh, from everything she’s ever heard about the Astebani…
I don’t know; she was like, you go and tell me all about it.
” She pauses, thoughtfully. “Hey, why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?” I say.
“You know, kind of more…princessy than usual.”
I pat my hair self-consciously. “I don’t look that odd, surely.”
“You look more formal,” Amaritha says. She turns to Bash. “Right?”
He shrugs.
“Don’t ask him,” I sigh. “He already told me I look different.”
“Not, like, bad different,” Sasha says. “More like you looked when you first came here. You know, stiffer.”
“Less relaxed,” Amaritha adds. “Did you dress this way because of this prince?”
“Oh my gooooooddddsss, I am dying to meet this guy,” Sasha says.
“I heard Astebanis sleep standing up!” Amaritha says.
“I’ll just go make some tea,” I say, rising.
“What if you’re downstairs when he shows up?” Sasha says.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “It’ll be fine.”
Between the four of us we’ve drunk ten cups of tea by the time someone finally knocks on the door. I am something approaching a nervous wreck by this time, and the sound makes me jump. Before I can do anything more than stand, Sasha is on her feet and running to the door to pull it open.
“Uh, hi?” she says, and steps aside as a tall elf in high-necked formal clothes steps inside. He glances at her, then looks up and spots me, and sweeps into a long, elegant bow.
“Princess Tanadelle. I am Garain, high steward of the house of Astebani, speaking on behalf of Astebaen, prince of the palatinate of Astebal, greatest and most bountiful of the eight kingdoms of the Shining Realm.”
I curtsy, my lowest and most courtly, the one that requires a plié nearly to the floor. It took me months to master it.
“I welcome you, Garain, high steward of the greatest and most bountiful kingdom of Astebal.”
He stands and looks about. “I must make arrangements before His Serene Highness may set foot in…your…abode,” he says a little doubtfully.
“You are most welcome, High Steward Garain. My facilities are at your disposal,” I say, not daring a glance at Bash or the girls. I don’t need to look at them to know they’re staring at the two of us, jaws almost certainly hanging open.
The steward bows again. “Is your secretary present?” He glances uncertainly back at my motley crew gathered on the stairs, staring at him. “Unless Madam Brambling is no longer in your employ and one of these…fine…people…now fills the position?”
I hear the unmistakable sound of someone choking back a laugh.
“Madam Secretary is with Their Most Serene Highnesses at the palace by the sea,” I say.
“They are exploring alternative solutions to the curse currently afflicting me. Please consider yourself welcome to discuss your preparations with me in her absence, and I shall see to it that they’re carried out. ”
The faintest trace of uncertainty crosses his face, but it’s gone after a moment.
“As you wish, Your Royal Highness,” he says, dropping into another bow, and proceeds to request that I remove every bookcase and book from the ground floor, dust, sweep, and lay down the Astebani rugs that he’ll be supplying. I have an hour.
Once he’s gone and the door is shut firmly behind him, I sink into my chair behind my desk and put my head in my arms, while Sasha and Amaritha howl with laughter on the stairwell. An hour. Surely it can’t be done.
After they’re finished laughing, I send them off to the inn to collect whoever can be coaxed into moving a lot of furniture very quickly, and start using whatever of my little household magic I can to send books flying up the stairs to the first floor; I’ll rearrange tomorrow.
I drop Household Magic into Bash’s lap and tell him to look for anything that might be helpful; he spends the next hour amusing himself by folding my beautiful stationery into paper birds and spelling them to chase after the bluecaps.
By the time the bells strike the hour, the ground floor is empty, sparkling clean, and carpeted with Astebani rugs with their deep pile and rich, dark geometric patterns.
I banish my friends, three princes, and four curious trumpeters to the stairwell and tell them not to step on the rugs, on pain of death and/or potent pustule curses.
Straightening my hair and my gown, I stand in the center of the suddenly very empty room and wait.
Mere moments after the last bell has tolled, the door opens.