“Your orders, Princess?” he asked.
“You may send the mages to the barracks,” Esofi said. “Tell them that I thank them for their service. And find me tomorrow morning, before I meet with Her Majesty.”
“Of course, Princess,” he said.
With the departure of the mages, the hall became significantly less crowded. Esofi turned her attention to her ladies. There were three of them, and all had come with her by choice. The first was Lady Lexandrie, the second daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Fialia and Esofi’s second cousin, who had been her waiting lady since they were thirteen. She was a tall woman with a cascade of golden hair and a regal demeanor. If Lexandrie had any faults, the foremost one was stubbornness, followed closely by an innate belief that no person in the world had ever worked as hard or suffered as desperately as she had in her eighteen years of life at the marble palace of Rho Dianae.
Next was Lady Mireille, daughter of the Baron and Baroness of Aelora. With six older siblings, her prospects in Rhodia had not been high—but her ambitions were. Esofi was still not entirely certain how the young woman had managed to win herself a place on the royal procession, but that didn’t matter now. Mireille’s traveling papers had proclaimed that she was sixteen years old, but her youthful face could have passed for twelve.
Mireille’s presence had been welcome on the long journey. She was a bright, cheerful young woman, desperately eager to please and only occasionally prone to simpering. She would rush eagerly to complete any task Esofi set them to, and Lexandrie was always happy to let her work in solitude until the assignment was minutes from being complete.
In some small way, Esofi felt that she and Mireille had a sort of kinship between them. While Lexandrie was certain to return to Rhodia someday, Mireille and Esofi never would. There was nothing left for them back there. Ieflaria would become their world now.
And last was Lady Lisette of Diativa, who was in actuality not a Lady, nor of Diativa, nor even named Lisette. She was a tiny woman with black eyes and hair the color of moonlight who could go days at a time without uttering a word. Esofi did not know for certain how many blades, lockpicks, and poisons Lisette had on her person, but she felt quite sure that the number was absurdly high. She was an unnerving girl until one became accustomed to her, but Esofi’s mother had insisted upon her presence in the royal carriage.
“Such a lovely welcome,” said Lexandrie in a bright and vapid tone. “Didn’t you think so, Princess?”
“Yes, of course,” said Esofi in an equally cheerful tone—she knew perfectly well that there could be any number of people listening in, waiting for some word against the co-regents or a sign of weakness. The fact that they spoke in the language of Rhodia was no protection against that. “I will be glad to rest my feet at last, though, and for a cup of tea.”
“Princess Esofi,” said a woman, emerging from the throne room behind them. She looked to be around the same age as Queen Saski and wore a lavender gown decorated with pearls. In keeping with the Ieflarian fashion, her long hair was in coiled braids. “I am Countess Amala of Eiben, waiting lady to Queen Saski. Her Majesty has asked me to show you to your new rooms.”
“Oh! Of course,” said Esofi, stepping aside so Amala could take the lead.
Amala walked down the lamp-lit hallway with rapid, purposeful footsteps, speaking candidly as she went, naming each room as they passed it. Esofi glanced back at her ladies, and Lisette had a particularly intense expression upon her face. Esofi knew she could trust her to remember everything they were being told and was glad for her presence.
They continued through a maze of stone halls, servants and nobility alike stepping aside to stare at the foreigners in their castle. Esofi kept a practiced smile at her lips the entire time, until finally Amala came to a stop in front of a large door, ornately carved with a depiction of a unicorn in a meadow.
Amala withdrew a key from the purse at her belt and unlocked the door. “These will be your rooms, Princess. You will find adjoining rooms for your ladies, and Her Majesty has already assigned servants to see to your needs.”
Amala gestured to her, and Esofi stepped inside. The first room was an elaborate parlor, furnished in the Ieflarian style, all intricately carved dark woods and jewel-toned carpets and tapestries. Glass oil lamps cast the room in a golden glow, and a small fire burned in the stone hearth.
At the center of the room stood a middle-aged woman, large-boned and silver-haired with a nose like an eagle’s beak. She wore the uniform of the castle staff, but Esofi could tell from just a moment’s glance that the woman was not a maid.
“Mistress Abbing is the palace housekeeper,” explained Amala, and the woman curtsied. Esofi nodded at her.
“If there is anything you require, Princess,” said Mistress Abbing, “tell any of my girls. If you catch them lazing about, send them directly to me and I’ll sort them out. We’ll come in to clean once a week while you’re at the sunrise service.”
Esofi nodded again. There was never a day that the Temple of Iolar did not perform a sunrise service or the corresponding sundown service in the evening. But most people only attended on the first day of the week. In some circles, that first service was considered mandatory.
“That room will be yours, Princess,” Amala explained, gesturing to a door on one side of the room. “You will find the servants are already unpacking your things. They should be gone within the hour. And for your ladies, their rooms are through that other door. If there is anything you require, Her Majesty has ordered it will be given to you.”
And with that, Amala excused herself. Mistress Abbing went into Esofi’s room to yell at the servants, and Esofi immediately sank down onto the nearest sofa, only to pause in wonderment at the softness—after three months at sea and another in a carriage, she had almost forgotten what proper furniture felt like.
“Well—” began Lexandrie, only to be cut off by Lisette raising one thin, pale finger into the air.
“Not yet,” said Lisette, and embarked on a rapid search of the entire room. Esofi sat very still as Lisette examined everything and anything, turning over cushions and pulling books off the shelves and even tapping at the stones on the walls. After a few moments, Lisette seemed satisfied.
“Nothing in here, at least,” she said.
“May I speak now, then?” asked Lexandrie. Then, without waiting for a reply, she went on. “Esofi, have you realized—?”
“That they mean for me to marry Princess Adale? Yes,” said Esofi.
“And you will agree to it?”
“It makes no difference to me, does it?” asked Esofi. “I shall marry someone at the end of the mourning period. Or would you have me return home and tell my parents that I rejected the heir to the throne of Ieflaria?”
“Of course not,” said Lexandrie. “But you’re not a peasant. You need heirs. And I know you can’t hold on to a Changed body long enough to—”
“But maybe the Crown Princess Adale can!” interrupted Mireille.
“Perhaps she can,” Esofi agreed. “Or perhaps there is a sizable list of heirs already, and so Their Majesties are not concerned. Until I speak with Queen Saski tomorrow, we will not know, and I will not spend any more time worrying about it, not while there’s a fresh bed and a warm fire waiting in the next room.”
Fortunately, none of her ladies seemed to be in the mood to argue, and the four sat in exhausted silence until the servants were herded out by Mistress Abbing, who bid them a good night and reminded them to only ask if they required something, no matter the hour.