Chapter 22
Autumn might have been reluctant to arrive, but winter showed no such hesitation. By Fintrus, snow blanketed the castle grounds more days than not.
In the weeks since Percy’s funeral, there was an unusual sense of peace.
While one head of the hydra had been cut, more had not appeared to replace it.
I took this as an opportunity to avoid the prince, no longer bound by any of his vile requests; beyond simple greetings and polite exchanges, I managed to keep our interactions at a surface level.
I spent an increasing amount of time with my steadily growing circle of allies within Castle Altaigne.
Almost every day now, I made time for the Lady’s Chamber, horseback sessions or mentoring games of chess with Viscount Quinn, and, in the small hours of night, lessons of magic with Maitre Florence.
No longer were the lessons a subject of dread.
In fact, after my initial introduction to the Lord of Night, I hadn’t experienced the full brunt of his presence again.
I still felt him, always, but now the power coursing through my veins was almost comfortable, benevolent.
Small magics became easier now, little blessings and charms that Florence guided me through with patient instruction.
Sometimes the thought struck that the prince might have been right: my voice, as much of a burden as it was, had been a doorway to something more. If I’d been granted the opportunity to meet the witch Laetitia, I might have slapped her and kissed her in the same breath.
Beyond curses and blessings, my voice had also become somewhat of a social tool.
Ever since I first decided to perform a song for the Lady’s Chamber, I’d made a spot for myself alongside the other entertainers.
Thanks to my upbringing, I was versed in a number of Gallaean folk songs, but today, influenced by one drink too many, I had composed a bawdier performance.
Angharad’s irreverent influence ushered me on as I performed the opening to my shanty:
“Well I lost my husband out at sea,
What a terrible place for a man to be,
I warned of the dangers, but no one heard me, What would I know? I’m a noble lady.
So, I took a boat, and I gathered a crew,
And I sailed out to prove that my point was true. We sailed past the sirens and the kraken too, And then I fucked the kraken.
The maiden and the monsters fair,
A man’s got a sword, but a woman’s got a snare,
No I didn’t kill the creature but I did take care,
And my poor late husband could never compare.”
The ladies’ approving uproar carried out into the halls, shrill and shrieking with laughter. Encouraged by their response, I carried into the next verse, clapping out a rhythm for my audience to participate in. Only when they fell in line did I resume.
“I remarried that year to a young upstart,
He wasn’t a sailor so I thought him pretty smart, But he went to the caves with an old oxcart, For there was gold in the mountain cavern’s heart.
But no gold did my second late husband find,
I warned him of the dragon but he paid me no mind,
I set out whence the mighty dragon was confined,
And then I fucked the dragon.”
From her alcove, Winnie sighed and covered her face in embarrassment. She shook her head, but I kept going through the chorus, raising a leg onto the low table for verse three.
“My third dear husband set out in the night,
To investigate the source of a lycan’s bite,
He and his men did the monster smite,
So, I found him in the woods and waited for moonlight.
But the beast heard of me in a cautionary tale,
He got a look at me and he ran like hell,
So, I charmed the man and the wolf as well,
And then I fucked the ly—”
The heavy doors to the Lady’s Chamber swung open with such force that they struck the walls.
Every head in the room whipped toward the entrance where Queen Adelaide stood, her presence commanding immediate silence.
My voice died mid-word, leg still propped indecently on the table as color drained from my face.
For a moment, no one moved. The queen’s gaze swept the room, taking in the flushed faces, the empty wine goblets, and finally settled on my compromising position.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Queen Adelaide said dryly, though it was clear that interruption was precisely what she intended.
I lowered my leg and smoothed my skirts. Around me, the ladies scrambled to their feet in belated curtsies. Winnie looked as though she might faint.
The fashion in the castle changed since my return from Hadria.
Jewel tones had become all the rage, adorned with metallic threading and ornaments.
Necklines were low, trimmed with fur for winter, and skirts offered glimpses of legs clad in thigh-high stockings and jeweled garters.
Castle Altaigne was a middle ground between Gallae and Hadria, with me leading the way with a blazing torch.
If I braided my hair with woven ribbons and small bells, every other lady made the adjustment within an evening.
“Altaignian Fashion”, it had been dubbed by visitors (or so I was told), and I was at the forefront.
Indeed, it seemed the only figures who refused to bend the knee were Winnie, who still shook her head at the changing times, and Queen Adelaide, whose own fashion was incomparable at any rate.
She swept into the hall draped in a floor-length robe of midnight blue velvet, so dark that it seemed to absorb light itself.
The entire garment was embroidered with harts, and by the way it glinted, each individual hart was spun from actual gold.
Her shoulders were wrapped in a cape of pure white ermine, the black-tipped tails creating an intricate pattern that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of snow.
From head to toe, her ensemble was almost certainly worth more than most nobles’ annual income; it was a stark contrast to the revealing Altaignian fashion that surrounded her at every turn.
She seated herself at the center of the commotion. Her lady-in-waiting pulled up a footstool for the queen to prop her feet upon, then seated herself behind the queen.
“At ease, ladies,” the queen ordered. Everyone drew breath on her command, though we could not force ourselves to find ease in her presence.
She fixed her eyes on me, folding her hands together.
Oh, gods.
“Lady Alana,” Queen Adelaide began, “I trust you have been using your time wisely. In these slow winter months, there is much of it to spare. Time for poetry, perhaps, or other creative pursuits… but you will need to be prepared for the duties that await you.”
I blushed with a fury, wondering just how much of my song had been heard. Hopefully it hadn’t carried further than the door, though surely if it had, there would be men watching from the entrance now.
Bringing myself back into the conversation, I nodded slowly, uncertain of where the queen was going with this. The eyes of the other ladies bored holes into me, mounting with an anticipation I did not fully understand.
“I have made a decision regarding your…nuptials.” The queen measured the room with a gaze, knowing well that she had the attention of every woman present. “The wedding shall take place at the beginning of spring—the first week of Vernus, to be precise.”
Undeclared energies rippled through the chamber. The blood drained from my face as the reality struck; not quite three months from now, I’d be married. To him, of all people.
“Spring represents new beginnings, and the pleasant weather will permit travel for our distinguished guests,” Queen Adelaide continued, reading and ignoring my shock.
“I’ve already sent word to your parents in Finn’s Hollow, who will naturally attend.
Additionally, we expect representatives from the royal families of Rividinya, Aduran, Leyne, Dreden, Baselia, and the northern empires of Sala and Korosa… ”
The queen’s eyes remained on me, watching for even the slightest reaction.
“This is not merely a wedding, but a statement to the world about Antier’s strength and unity. You will not only represent yourself, but our realm, Lady Alana.”
My mouth went dry. I kept hearing it in my head: three months. Three months!
“I trust,” the queen added, “that you will comport yourself accordingly in the weeks to come. There is much preparation to be done.”
A sharp pain in my ribcage came from Angharad’s nudging elbow. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
Queen Adelaide waited with a pointed stare, then sighed, rising to her feet. She turned to her audience. “Then you’ve heard it here, ladies. Alana is officially your princess. Come, Deirdre.”
Her lady-in-waiting nodded, following her queen from the room. As the doors shut behind her, the ladies erupted with contained squeals, their bubbling enthusiasm acted out with gratuitous hugs and applause.
“Our princess!” Angharad cheered. “Oh, how marvelous!”
Winnie came from her usual spot in the alcove, swatting the women away like flies. “Have a sense of decorum, ladies! Your familiarity will get you into trouble.”
“To hell with you, Winnie Balden!” Lady Diamond protested, smashing her face into my arm. “Let us celebrate.”
My mind reeled. While there was much to digest—my parents’ arrival, how long it had been since my last letter from them, how the castle would soon be filled with unfamiliar faces and, undoubtedly, new dangers—my thoughts continued to snap back to the fact that I was now confirmed to be engaged to the man I’d purposely avoided for weeks now.
“Do tell us, my fortunate friend: how exactly do you plan to comport yourself for the wedding night?” Angharad asked, spurring an uproar from the other ladies. “Have you gotten to know His Majesty on a more intimate level?”
Winnie gave up on stopping the women, taking a seat nearby. I started to sweat. “I’ve kissed him on the cheek.”
“On the cheek?!” Lady Diamond guffawed. “Good heavens! Send for a priestess!”