Chapter 28 | The Queen Who Ruled by Herself

Kiss My Hand

Sedra finally got rid of her sister by remarking on the time. "Holy Mother!" cried Ellika. "I have to get ready! I'll be back to check on you!" And she ran out of Sedra's rooms in a scurry of silk.

"Finally," sighed Sedra. "Camma, I desperately need some tea now, but help me out of this first, please." Camma slid Sedra out of her day dress, and quickly left to fetch a fresh pot. Sedra pulled her favorite dressing gown off its hook, slipped it over her underthings and sat down before her vanity.

There on the table top, next to her hairbrush, lay a letter she hadn't seen before. It was addressed to her, in unfamiliar handwriting. Was it from Brinnid? It'd be like him to somehow sneak a letter to her; she knew that much about him already. But Camma would never have delivered it in secret, especially for Brinnid. How could it have gotten into her rooms? She picked up the letter and briefly considered going to her mother with it before finally sliding her finger under the plain wax wafer and opening it. She began to read.

Sedra threw the letter down onto the vanity and stood up so quickly she knocked over the little tufted chair. She instinctively clutched her dressing gown closely around her throat, staring into her reflection. Was Connin watching her? She felt the blood rush to her face, and her temper rise along with her color.

Sedra picked up her hairbrush and briefly contemplated throwing it at the mirror before putting it back down. Staring deliberately into the mirror, she unfastened her dressing gown and let it slide provocatively down her shoulders. She slipped out of it, throwing it over one arm, and put her foot up on the overturned chair. Slowly she pulled her petticoats up, revealing her leg to the bare thigh above her stocking. She put one hand on her corseted breast, gave the mirror a smoldering look--and spat straight into it. With a disdainful motion, she threw her robe over the mirror and stalked out of the room.

"Camma, cover every mirror in my rooms," she said, pacing furiously back and forth in her underthings.

"Again?" said Camma, holding the tea tray. "Miss, will you please tell me why this time?"

"No," said Sedra, coming to a halt in irritation. "Oh, put the tray down, Camma, and get me a new dressing gown--and not the one over my vanity mirror!"

For once Ellika was dressed for an event before Sedra. She stood before her sister's door pounding her little fist on it and crying, "Camma! What are you about! Unlock this door immediately!" until finally the exasperated ladies maid unbolted it and stood back to let the princess in. "Well? Is she ready? How does she look? I'm so excited, you'd think I was the one meeting my future husband!" exclaimed Ellika, completely forgetting she'd resolved never to marry.

"Stop yowling, you're deafening the Gods," said Sedra, standing in the doorway between her study and her bedchamber. She was dressed in the indigo silk, cut in her usual spare style with little in the way of decoration but the beautiful fabric itself. At her waist was a little knot of dark red roses, not buds but still tightly furled.

Perhaps most remarkable to those who knew her well was that her lustrous dark hair was not in some form of knot. It spilled from a crown of roses, one fat curl sliding down her ivory shoulder to frame her elegant neck. She wore no jewelry but a pair of small golden hoops in her ears and their grandmother's signet ring on her right middle finger. For the first time in her life, Ellika felt overdressed.

"Well? Do I pass muster?" said Sedra.

Ellika ran up to her and gave her an impulsive hug, careful not to crush the roses at her sister's waist. "You look absolutely splendid--more than splendid! And you will never convince me you look this way just for me!" she said, kissing Sedra's blushing cheek.

"I just want to get this over with," said Sedra, disentangling herself.

"Well, come on then!" Ellika took her sister's gloved hand in her own and dragged her out the door none too elegantly.

What Sedra could see of the throne room from the antechamber was decked out in its best trappings--huge vases of flowers, Tremontine red hangings and curtains, every bit of gilt polished to a mirror finish. "Let go, Ellika!" she hissed, "we can't walk into the throne room hand in hand like a couple of schoolgirls!"

Ellika gave Sedra a last peck on the cheek, composing herself into the proper young princess she was expected to be, and Sedra pulled herself up to her full height. Winmer announced them, and they walked into the room. To Sedra's surprise, both sides of the aisle were packed with members of the court, all in their best. What else should she have expected? she thought to herself ruefully, and began to regret her choice of the already-worn indigo silk and no jewels. Ah well, too late now.

She continued down the carpet to the dais, where her parents sat in state. Temmin was already standing next to their father, trying hard, she could tell, not to tug at his stiff collar. How he could manage to look both four years old and very grown-up at the same time remained a mystery to his sister, and she smiled at him fondly. He returned her smile with a solemn wink, and next to her she heard Ellika suppress a giggle.

Ellika took her place beside Temmin, and Sedra stood by herself next to their mother. Ansella reached out to her oldest girl and took her gloved hand; she noted it was shaking, and she gave it a squeeze. Sedra returned the pressure and held her head that much higher.

The sound of many footsteps in the antechamber caused all the heads to turn once more toward the door. Winmer called out in his clear, high voice, "His Majesty Brinnid the Ninth, King of Sairland and the Far Isles and all its Protectorates, Duke of Ammahome, Earl of Maccal, Lord of Deneen, Comfort of the People, Consort on Earth of the Bloody One and Defender of the Mother!" Brinnid strode into the hall, followed by a small retinue of Sairish lords and ladies; Sedra counted four pairs in all before her attention returned to the man at their head.

King Brinnid was entirely different from the Earl of Maccal.

Where "Maccal" had been open, grinning and amused, the king was shielded, formal, unsmiling. Somehow, he seemed even taller. Perhaps his ruthlessly shined boots had higher heels than his dancing shoes, she thought, though it probably was just his ramrod-straight stance.

Brinnid suddenly looked straight at her, a piercing gaze that brought an unwanted blush to her cheek. She dropped her eyes for a fatal second, far more than she'd intended to give away this quickly; she cursed herself inwardly, and raised her eyes again. To her astonishment, a telltale flush of color showed under his own tanned cheeks, but his eyes were now on her father.

Sedra felt an unbearable tension in the room; why was Brinnid so stern? Harsin stood up, equally stern, and stared down at Brinnid from the dais. Brinnid stared back. It seemed to Sedra to stretch on forever, but then her father's face broke into a smile. "Welcome, brother king! Please accept the hospitality of my hall!"

"I thank you and accept your kind and generous invitation, brother!" replied Brinnid, smiling back.

Sedra realized that what had felt like minutes had been seconds, and the tension was entirely her own.

Harsin took Ansella's hand and raised her from her throne, and they descended the dais. Brinnid and Harsin clasped hands. "May I present my wife and consort, Ansella, Queen of Tremont," said Harsin. The Sairish king took Ansella's hand and kissed the air above it, then gave her a charming smile. "May I present my children," said Harsin loudly.

Temmin started. It was his cue; he remembered that much of Winmer's hurried explanation of who was doing and saying what to whom. "I'm a man, I think I'm a man, I can pretend I'm a man, at least I can't embarrass Seddy," he thought to himself, holding himself straight as he descended the dais, face serious.

"My son, Temmin, Heir of Tremont," said Harsin. Temmin and Brinnid exchanged bows, Temmin's a little deeper and a little longer. "My daughter, Sedra, Princess Royal of Tremont," he continued.

Sedra descended the dais. She would not tremble, she couldn't let him feel her emotion when he took her hand, she had to keep herself under control, she was not going to give in. Give in to what? What was she feeling?

She dipped a formal if shallow curtsey. Brinnid raised her by her gloved hand, and outwardly she was as calm and collected as he was. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the air so closely to her fingers she could feel the heat of his mouth, and yet she kept herself serene and smiling formally. He released her hand, and her heart beat again.

She vaguely heard her father introducing Ellika, and then Brinnid's voice introducing his attendant nobles to her father, but she wasn't listening. She kept her face composed and smiling. She felt herself nod at the Sairish nobles as if she had an idea who they were.

Her father took her hand, shaking her from her blank state. "We will dine together in the great hall," called Harsin, "as Sairish and Tremontine nobles have done since the beginning of time. Sedra," he added quietly. "you will go in to dinner on his majesty's arm." He placed her hand in Brinnid's, took the highest ranking woman of the Sairish delegation on his own arm, and led the company into the great hall.