We meet the Prince, his faithful manservant, and his family

Ten years earlier...

"I just don't know why we have to go to court," called Prince Temmin. "Why can't we stay at Whithorse?"

"Your highness knows very well why," replied his manservant Jenks over the noise of the train tracks. "And if you weren't a prince I'd turn you over my knee and end all this sulking with a few good smacks." Jenks walked up the length of the private car with the Prince's luncheon, swaying with the movement of the train. He set down the silver tray on the neatly set table before his young master and set out the soup course. For such a large man he was extraordinarily graceful. Not a drop mussed the tray or the white linen cloth. "Now, eat."

"And if you were anyone but you, I'd have you horsewhipped, the way you talk to me," muttered the Prince, tucking a pointless napkin into the collar of his already-stained shirt. "What makes you think you can get away with such impertinence?"

"Because," said the older man, leaning down to look into the Prince's face, "I am me, and you are you, young dolt. I mean, young sir." He grinned, and so did Temmin. "Besides," he said, straightening up and tugging down his neat black cutaway coat, "you wouldn't have anyone horsewhipped, not even a horse."

"Oh, especially not a horse! Father forfend!" Jenks swayed back to the galley car, leaving Temmin with his soup and his thoughts.

Court. There weren't nearly enough horses at court, he thought, only people and dancing and useless things like that. He'd be expected to keep his clothing neat and smile sweetly while old ladies bored him with stories of dead people. Cooped up inside. He groaned inwardly, watching the countryside scroll by the window as he slurped down the hot bisque. Every now and again he caught sight of a little clump of farm children, watching with round eyes as the royal train carriage clattered by. He envied them.

At least, he thought, wiping his sloppy mouth on his napkin, he would be with his sisters and mother again. He'd missed them since Ellika left for court a year and a half earlier, and Sedra nearly two years before her. Turn sixteen and give your whole life over to the royal rigamarole. He sniffed in annoyance.

Temmin got up, stumbling slightly with the rocking car, and rummaged in a nearby pile of papers he'd brought from Whithorse. He found Ellika's last letter and sat down to read it again.

Must remember to tell them not to call me that in public now, he thought--

Girls. Hm. Well, girls were interesting, especially pretty ones, but he always felt so awkward and bumbling around them. What was one to talk about with them? The few he'd met didn't seem to know anything about horses. And girls of any kind had been welcomed rarely at Whithorse; it had driven Sedra and Ellika to distraction. Sedra said Mama kept the children all at Whithorse until she absolutely had to let them come to court; Tremont Keep was "crawling with hussies," Sedra would mimic. Temmin wasn't exactly sure what a hussy was, apart from being female, but his mother's harangues about them had made him intensely curious.

Naughty? He would have to ask Ellika what she meant. He didn't know his father as well as he wished.

Well, then, perhaps Sedra would be a useful ally in his attempts to get outside and stay there. He wondered what the Teacher had done to make his egghead sister angry. Probably forgot to return a book.

Temmin had read this paragraph several times over every time he read Ellika's letter, and he did so again now. It troubled him. He'd never been afraid of any of his tutors, ever. He was bright enough, and was always able to bluff his way through lessons quickly enough to get back outside to the stables and paddocks he loved. And none of his tutors cared enough to push him further than he wanted to go.

He pushed the blonde thatch of his hair off his forehead. This tutor sounded completely different. He had a feeling there would be no bluffing, which meant there would be little riding. He would have to study. And go to parties. Damn.

Future hopes? For what, a new pair of earrings? He loved Ellika, but she was awfully frivolous.

The train took a lurch. He looked anxiously back at the cars curving on the track behind at the car holding his favorite gelding, and hoped he was faring well.

He wished Ellika hadn't talked so much about his new tutor. What if he couldn't do what this Teacher required of him? What if he wasn't smart enough? What if he couldn't bribe his way to the stables as he had with the last one?

And what was it about the Teacher that made his father scared?

Coming to court, with all the dancing and nonsense, was bad enough, but this almost put him off his food. Almost.

Jenks roused him from his thoughts. "Sit. Eat your turbot, or I won't bring you your pudding." Temmin folded Ellika's letter, tucked it in his waistcoat and sat down. The valet quirked a brow at him. "If I didn't know that was from your sister I'd swear it was a love letter, you've read it so many times."

"How long do we have before we get to Tremont, Jenks?"

He pulled out his battered but beloved cavalry-issue pocket watch. "Another four hours, your highness." Temmin dug into the fish on his plate and tried not to think about it, but his effort was short-lived. "And when you're through," added Jenks, "I'm getting you out of those filthy clothes and into something presentable if I have to hogtie you to do it." He cracked his knuckles menacingly and grinned, but one glance at Temmin's glum face brought him up short. "Ah, well, I'll go and get your pudding, shall I? Don't worry, your highness, court's not so bad, you'll see. Lots of beautiful girls, all wanting nothing more than to impress you. And their maidservants, wanting nothing more than to impress me. We'll have a time, I promise."

"I think you fell off that cavalry horse onto your head one too many times, Jenks."

"With all due respect, stuff it, your highness."

Temmin toasted him with his glass of watered-down wine and went back to not thinking about the last remaining hours of relative freedom remaining to him.

Temmin knew his doom was near when the countryside gave way to the brick and stone houses of the great capital. The train slowed down to a near-crawl, and crowds of people began appearing along the sides of the tracks waving tiny Tremontine flags. He waved back, especially when he saw children jumping up and down or rosy giggling girls.

He'd been turning the idea of girls over in his mind since he'd re-read his sister's letter. There had been maidservants at Whithorse, of course, but most of them were old enough to be his mother, and not at all attractive. The one girl who hadn't been--when was that, so long ago it seemed, he thought--she had been let go not long after his father had come for a visit. But oh, she'd been a pretty one, bright hazel eyes and a saucy lilt to her step. He remembered thinking of her sometimes in the night, wondering what she'd look like without the severe black and white yards of fabric that made up her uniform. Then that time in the garden, just before she'd been let go--he felt a soft twinge between his legs--

A sharp whistle brought him back to the present.

Jenks was there, waiting with his best suit coat. He put it on and Jenks fussed with his dark blue silk tie. "You will keep it on, your highness. Your mother is out there waiting, and I'll never hear the end of it if you aren't well turned out." He went to push his fingers through his hair and Jenks stopped him with a clack of his tongue. "None of that!"

"You do realize," said Temmin, straightening, "that I'm taller than you now if I don't slouch?"

"You do realize," said Jenks, pulling himself up until he was almost as tall as the rangy prince, "that I've killed men in battle? And that you have no chin whiskers?"

"Hmf," said Temmin, scratching his already-plentiful golden sideburns.

The train pulled to a stop, and he felt his spirits droop.

The station was artificially empty, every entrance blocked by the palace guard in their best dress uniforms. Tremontine flags hung from the high curving iron rafters and fluttered listlessly in the slight breeze. Around the station, kept well back by the guard, were hundreds, maybe thousands, of people, more than he'd ever seen in one place in his life. Temmin realized that they were there to see him, even a small glimpse of him. When he stepped from the car, a roar went up. He heard bits of speech poking through the wave of sound: "Your highness! Prince Temmin! The Heir! It's the Prince!"

He looked around him, grinning a bit at quite this much attention. When he waved tentatively at the throngs the roar redoubled, and so did his grin. He waved with his whole heart, until he saw his family waiting for him--his mother, looking as always like a blonde china doll, alongside his sober dark-haired sister Sedra; Ellika, nearly their mother's double but for being brown-eyed and excitable; and his father the king, tall, handsome, powerfully built, and dark like Sedra.

"Temmy!" cried Ellika, bouncing on her toes. The queen put out a gentle hand and Ellika quieted, but she couldn't keep from bouncing just a bit.

Temmin quickened his step. He would have run but for everyone watching him. He longed to sweep his mother up into a fierce hug, but instead did what he knew was the right thing. He shook his father's hand, bowing briefly, kissed his mother quickly on both cheeks, and then kissed Sedra the same way. As he kissed Ellika, she whispered in his ear, "You're here! I'm so very happy, Temmy!" And though he missed his beloved Whithorse, the nearness of his sisters and mother made his heart swell with love and happiness.

Once inside their carriage, Ellika and Sedra chattered away at him, one on each side, each holding one of his hands affectionately. Ellika had described Sedra as doing nothing but reading and going on walks, but you'd never have known it from the animated way she described life at court.

"Temmy, you'll be amazed at how much there is to do in the capital!" Sedra cried. "Wonderful salons, such brave young artists, plays that you'll think about for days and days!"

"Oh, pooh," said Ellika, "who wants to go to some stupid salon? Dancing, Temmy! Such beautiful dances, and not like the little ones we'd have once a year at Whithorse, but proper ones, with so many musicians and oh so many beautifully dressed people! And the opera, everyone goes and the parties afterward are--"

"Girls," said their mother quietly. "Temmin has just come from a two-day trip by train, and while our car is quite pleasant, it's an exhausting journey. He will be with us from now on, there will be time to talk. It doesn't all need to be said in the first ten minutes." She smiled at her son, and for the first time, he noticed how tired and sad she looked in spite of it. He looked over at his father, sitting next to her. He was looking absently out the window in deep thought.

His father met his eyes. "Temmin," he said, "I expect you've heard you shall have a new tutor here." The prince nodded. "It is very important to me that you pay attention to the Teacher. I myself studied with the Teacher, and still take, eh, take his counsel."

"Are you sure it's wise--" his mother began.

"We have had this discussion, Ansella, and we have made our decision," replied the king coldly. "If I left it to you, the children would all still be at Whithorse. They have responsibilities. It is past time to teach Temmin his."

"Of course, you're right," said his mother humbly.

Temmin looked sideways at Sedra, who looked down at her lap. The rest of the short ride to the Keep passed in silence, and when the carriage passed through the enormous doors in the great stone walls, Temmin looked out the rear window to watch them close with thudding finality.

Once inside the Keep, the excitement of his arrival and the long journey overtook the prince, and he begged off dinner. The king nodded and walked off without a word. Ellika pouted but kissed his cheek. Sedra pressed his hand while extracting a promise from him to walk with her the next day. His mother walked him to his suite of rooms, and once inside his new study he finally was able to give her the hug he'd so longed for. His hands could feel her sharp little bird bones beneath the fine wool of her bodice.

"Mama, are you well?" he said, pulling back and searching her drawn face.

She looked up at him and stroked his cheek. "I am healthy as ever, sweetheart. Never worry. Oh, Jenks, there you are!" she said, her face lighting up as the door to the bedchamber opened. "And how fare my friends below stairs at Whithorse?"

Jenks took her hand and bowed low over it. "All of them mere shades of their former selves since you left, your majesty. Off their tucker to the last bootblack and scullery maid with grief."

"I refuse to believe they haven't eaten in a year and a half," she laughed. "Nevertheless, I shall send them a hamper! I miss them, too, more than I can say." And indeed, her eyes suddenly filled with tears, the prince noted, and much went obviously unsaid but understood between the valet and the queen. "Well," she said, laughing slightly, "I shall leave you to it, Temmy. Jenks, draw him a bath and have dinner sent up while he's soaking. Then to bed, my boy. You may not want to go dancing with Ellika or to the plays with Sedra, but there is still much to do, son." Her gaze turned inward. "Much to do. Good night!" She recovered her smile, kissed him on both cheeks and left the study.

Temmin walked through the bedchamber into the bath, already getting steamy from the hot water flowing into the tub. "Something's not right, Jenks."

"There's always something not right, young sir," he sighed. "And that's the secret of adulthood. Off with the duds and into the tub. Your highness," he added.

Temmin sunk into the hot water up to his chin. He tried to let it soak away the tension he'd felt since he'd gotten word he would have to come to court. But all it succeeded in doing was making him hot and wet and tense. And sleepy.