Chapter 1 | The Queen Who Ruled by Herself

Ruffled Feathers

Farrday, the 38th Day of Spring's Beginning, In the Year of Our Kings 990

When the afternoon post arrived every day at half past three at Tremont Keep, Affton the butler stopped whatever stern lecture he was giving to the unfortunate footman he'd caught doing something dunderheaded and attended to it personally. He and the King's secretary Winmer would sort through it, dividing the letters and packages into neat stacks for each member of the royal household and any guests.

Morning and afternoon mail sorting were the only two times of the day when the two men weren't in active competition with one another. They were both of a height--small, compact men--but where Affton's face and demeanor were cool and removed, Winmer's were animated and warm. Winmer found the butler condescending, and Affton found the secretary overly familiar, and each felt the other interfered in his proper domain. But at mailtime, they took pride in processing the post together efficiently and having the stacks of packages, magazines, newspapers and letters ready to be delivered with the afternoon tea.

The largest stack by far was for Winmer himself to deal with: Sealed diplomatic packets (by separate courier directly to his own hands, but still arriving around post time); unsealed dispatches from Inchar; budgetary forecasts; and love notes from King Harsin's current mistresses, which he would tuck discreetly into his waistcoat away from discerning eyes. It would never do if someone were to recognize the handwriting of a leading socialite or wife of a lord.

As four o'clock approached, the tea things were readied and loaded as they were called for onto the big dumb waiters that ran from the kitchens to the landing of the living quarters for the royal family and their guests. One by one, the ladies in waiting, maids and valets would see their charges settled before their teas, and then would trot briskly below stairs to the workroom and back up bearing the post on silver salvers.

"A package for you, your highness, and please open it, I'm positively dying of curiosity!" said Camma as she bustled into the Princess Sedra's tranquil study with a pile of periodicals and a single box on the salver next to a small stack of letters.

"A package? Addressed specifically to me?" said Sedra, looking up from her tea cup. "Is there any indication who it's from?"

"I couldn't say for certain, miss, but the frank looks diplomatic, from inside the capital." The maid set the tray down on the table before her mistress and took a step back.

Sedra took up the package and frowned. "Very odd, Camma, did Winmer say anything to you about it? He normally opens such things himself."

"No, your highness, he simply gave it to me without a word."

"Then he knows what it is and where it came from--ah," she said, holding up a little pair of magnifying spectacles to her nose, "the frank--it's from the Sairish Embassy." She sat back among the couch cushions.

"Already!" exclaimed the maid. "Aren't you going to open it, miss?"

"You open it, Camma," she replied faintly. "I find myself uninterested."

"Nonsense, begging your pardon, your highness, of course you're at least curious. Very well, then, give it here." Camma took the proffered box, carefully undid the string and opened the brown paper to reveal a box covered in fine-grained buff goatskin. Camma raised an eyebrow at Sedra, who nodded; she opened the box. Inside, nestled in dark green silk velvet, was a pair of sturdy but elegant gloves of the same buff goatskin, their wide gauntlets finished with a dark green silk tassel.

Sedra sat up a little straighter. "Let me have the box, Camma." Camma set the box in her lap, and Sedra lifted the gloves from it. Beneath them were two compartments. In the first, she found three round golden bells, intricately engraved and studded with tiny emeralds. One was larger; the other two were a smaller matched pair. Each was attached to a slender leather strap.

The second compartment contained a little mass of iridescent dark green feathers, gathered into a sort of tassel. Sedra picked it up and examined it carefully. "Is it a powder puff, d'you suppose, miss?" said Camma doubtfully.

"No," said Sedra, putting it back in its compartment. "I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's not for that." She picked up the gloves again, and a letter, sealed with a wafer of dark green wax, slid out of the topmost into her lap. Sedra froze. "I do not think this quite proper, Camma, what do you think?"

"I think you'd best go see the queen with all this, your highness," said Camma, her round eyes wide.

"I agree completely." She re-wrapped the package and tied it perfunctorily with the string. "Please clear up the tea things, I shall have another cup with Mama. Oh--and Camma?" she said at the door. "By 'clearing up,' I mean finish off that cream cake yourself." Camma grinned and gave her a wink, and Sedra headed around the landing to her parents' side of the floor. A quick knock and she was ushered through the formal receiving room into Queen Ansella's pretty little sitting room, all done up in cream and blue and filled with spring light, spring air and spring flowers.

"A package?" said her mother, putting down her tea cup and patting the couch beside her. "From whom? Why didn't Winmer deal with it?"

"I don't know, Mama, that's why I brought it to you. I thought there'd be no harm in opening it, but then I found a letter inside, and I thought I'd best come to you before I broke the seal. It doesn't seem proper to me to be communicating in this way."

"You were always a wise and cautious girl, Sedra," murmured the queen as she undid the package string and opened the brown paper. She ran her fingers across the goatskin-covered box, unlatched it, and carefully picked up the gloves. "Hm," she said, and set them aside. She picked up each bell, smiling faintly as they jingled in her hand, and put them back, and then examined the odd little poof of feathers. "Pretty things. I have a suspicion. The letter?"

Sedra reached into the glove and pulled the letter out. "Mama, what are these trinkets for?"

"A gift," Ansella answered, "a very Sairish gift, and one that I suspect will ruffle a few feathers. I wonder if that's why Brinnid chose to send it to you directly rather than through diplomatic channels. I rather question his sense of humor."

"So this is directly from Brinnid?" said Sedra.

"Well, let's open this and find out for certain." The queen slid her opener under the green wax and spread out the letter so that Sedra could read along with her.

"He's certainly silver-tongued, I'll give him that," chuckled Ansella quietly.

"A partial gift? I don't understand," said Sedra. "What's the other part to be?"

"There is a Sairish custom of hunting with birds. I suspect the rest of your gift is also feathered," Ansella answered, stroking the poof, "but still quite alive."

"A bird? A captive bird?!" Sedra gasped in horror. "We can never allow it!"

"My practical girl, superstitious?" smiled her mother.

"Not superstitious," snapped Sedra, "mindful of tradition and the law. Selling and owning captive birds apart from livestock is illegal and has been for 800 years."

"Not in Sairland," said Ansella. "And both the Tremontine and Leuteflossian nobility kept hunting birds themselves, long ago. I'm not entirely sure why we stopped, though I can't say I'm interested in the idea myself."

"I know why," murmured Sedra with an inward look.

"Oh? Why?"

"Just a story T--Papa mentioned once." Sedra blushed. "Apparently a Leuteflossian princess was held captive at one point and it wounded her so deeply she couldn't bear to see wild birds in cages afterward. When she married Warin the Wise, he ordered all wild bird sellers to end their trade, and he released his own hunting birds as well. It became both law and tradition that wild birds never be caged or confined. I'm sure if you asked Papa he'd tell you all about it."

"No, that's enough for me," sighed Ansella. "Your sister takes after me when it comes to history. I'm not terribly interested."

"D'you suppose Winmer knew what the gift was?"

"No, I'm sure he didn't."

"Well, then," said Sedra earnestly, "what do I do? I don't think I can accept it, but rejecting it would offend Brinnid."

"And you don't wish to offend him?" Ansella said mischievously.

"Mother, I have to marry him," Sedra answered sternly. "Why would I offend him before I've even met him?"

Her mother toyed with the tassel on one of the gloves. "Some men enjoy that sort of thing, you know--a snub. It sets them that much more eagerly on the chase."

"I don't want to be chased," said Sedra impatiently, "I'm not a doe to be hunted." She got up and walked slowly up and down. "I'm not a doe," she repeated softly, "I'm part of a greater bargain. He'll either want the bargain or no."

"Your conduct is part of the negotiations, my dear, as you well know. Perhaps, if he wants you badly enough, he will meet your demands as well as your father's."

"I don't like to hear you talk like this, Mama," said Sedra, frowning. "What demands did you place on Papa?"

"That our children be raised at Whithorse and that they not be put out to nurse. Other than that, I made no demands at all. It was a great honor to marry your father, Seddy, and while we haven't always had an easy time of it, I don't regret it--especially when I look at my darlings." She smiled and held her hands out to her oldest, who took them and sat back down close to her mother. "You never know, sweetheart, you may come to love Brinnid in the end."

"Do you love Papa?"

Ansella was quiet for a long time. "Yes," she finally said, "I do. Not in the way that most women would say they love their husbands. We rarely share a bed--haven't for years, but you know that. And we enjoy different amusements. But he's never shamed me with his mistresses. And he's let me have my way with you children, and that's what was most important to me. We share an affection and regard for one another. I know that this sets back your relationship with him, but don't think poorly of your father, Sedra. He is a better man than you know."

"I shall never think well of a man who would give his daughters away so callously," said Sedra bitterly.

"Your father doesn't do this callously, to the contrary, he has hopes that Brinnid will be a good husband for you. Your fate is not the fault of your father but of your birth," said Ansella gently. "I made sure you belonged to me while you were small, but now that you are grown, you belong to Tremont." Ansella stroked her daughter's cheek, and Sedra struggled to calm herself. "I wish you hadn't inherited my temper, sweetheart. My temper and your father's intelligence--a dangerous combination in a woman."

"I suppose that's one good thing," murmured Sedra. "Sairish women are held in higher regard."

"Yes!" said her mother, clasping her hands together. "Yes, that's very true! Oh, Sedra, this may turn out to be a very good match for you indeed, and I hope you are happy in it, truly!"

Sedra raised her eyes to her mother's, brushed a tear from the corner of one and smiled. "I hope so too, Mama. I will do my best, I promise. Now. What should I do with these things?"

Ansella sighed. "If you were Ellika, I'd say send them back. But you are not the coquette your sister is. She could make such a thing quite flirtatious."

"Elly could make falling off a horse flirtatious," snorted Sedra.

"In which case," said her mother, ignoring the remark, "I think we had best go with your strengths, which are intelligence, propriety and sincerity. It was very improper for him to send these things directly to you, as you know, but Winmer is complicit. We could ask your father directly, but he's so impatient with things like this. We could ask the Teacher--"

"No," said Sedra firmly. "I will not listen to the Teacher's counsel."

"More fool you, then," sniffed her mother, and Sedra scowled. "Very well. When you received the package, what were your thoughts?"

"I was intrigued, both with the contents and the letter, I confess."

"All right, reply to him that you have received his gift, that you are rather shocked at the impropriety of his approach, but that you are intrigued. That seems to me to be the best course of action."

"That seems rather flirtatious to me," said Sedra doubtfully.

"But it's the truth, isn't it?" smiled her mother.

"Yes," she answered, blushing, "it is."