When the noblewoman dipped into a low curtsy, all Rayne could see was the brightly colored plumage on the woman's hat, so large it nearly brushed Rayne's chin. The period of mourning had just ended, and these nobles acted like they had been starved for color, pulling out all the stops for the gathering. Rayne leaned away to avoid a feather in the face, but her father's hand on her back kept her in place.
“Congratulations to you, Highness,” the woman said.
“Thank you, Lady Saurtail,” Rayne said. Her father had made her learn the names of all the Hail noble houses. These were the people who would support her against the rebels, who would send men to fight and supplies to see them through the war. He couldn't tell her the name of a single slave or servant in the castle, but he could name every noble by looks alone and tell her how large their holdings were.
Lady Saurtail moved away and was replaced by an older man in a jewel-toned tunic. The fox brooch pinning his cape identified him as Lord Corentin. The lord bowed low, showing the shiny bald spot on the top of his head, and then thrust a boy forward. He was Rayne's age or younger, with a stubby half-beard and ears too large for his head. His stringy hair was tied back in a knot with a bright blue ribbon.
“May I present my son and heir, Arnaud.” Rayne knew from her father's teachings that the Corentin family held the largest portion of land of any of the noble families and that their fighting force numbered in the thousands, compared to the hundreds that other families provided. Many of Danyll's bound wielders had fled to Shade, and with their loss, Hail needed all the help it could get. Her father had not made any mention of arranging a marriage. He seemed still surprised by Danyll's death and the loss of the Ashsky ally. But she knew he would soon be back to his plotting, and no eligible boy would be safe. But what did that mean to Lord Corentin? Would he hold his troops hostage while his son courted her?
Rayne swallowed her disgust—not at the boy but at the idea in general—and nodded her head. “Thank you for coming, Lords Corentin. Please.” She gestured to the dining hall to her right. The men bowed again and were hustled away by the steward.
All she wanted was to sit, but the receiving line stretched all the way to the doors. Everyone wanted to get into the good graces of the soon-to-be queen. After the meal was the coronation, and her father had turned the gathering into the celebration of the century. It was his attempt to put the horrible events of the last several months behind them, and a way to show his supporters that he was still in control.
The first week after Edlyn’s death had been the hardest. They had expected her to act like a princess even while Edlyn's blood had still been on her hands. Her father had hauled her out of bed every morning and taken her to the great hall where they sat vigil over Edlyn's decaying body. Rayne was there behind her black veil, but her mind was not. She didn't hear a single prayer muttered by the ever-present almoner, or a single condolence said by well-wishers. It had been a gruesome version of this very same receiving line.
It wasn't until her mother and Rin arrived on the seventh day and Emory Evensoar had taken her daughter into her arms that Rayne had finally cried, the tension unwinding into streams of tears. Her mother, who looked as young and beautiful as she had five years ago, had held Rayne tight and spoken in soothing tones while they left the great hall.
Stone-faced Rin had taken over the vigil without a word, his own way of silently supporting her. She hadn't recognized him at first. The Crowheart children had looked so similar in their youth, but his face had hardened. His nose was still too big, and his ears too small, but he had full lips that Rayne heard some of the servants tittering about, and an ever-present worry line between his eyebrows. He was changed in numerous ways, but when he had leaned over Edlyn and pressed his lips to their sister's forehead, Rayne had known him at once.
The rest of the mourning period had been easier for their presence, and the Crowheart family began to heal. Rayne had walked in on her parents in her father's solar, heads bent together, hands touching. Rin had fetched Rayne every morning and escorted her to vigil or to her father's solar where he forced her to learn everything that Edlyn had been learning all her life—the politics of Hail, its regions and families, the intricacies of its trade systems and financial situation. Numbers and names swam in her head, all the time pushed out by the memory of Edlyn's last moments, by the shame of what she had almost done and what she had let happen.
But the period of mourning was over, and custom dictated that she was no longer to fret over her sister's death. To do so would be to disrespect Enos and condemn Edlyn to a half-life between worlds. Rayne had to let her go, and so now, at the head of the receiving line, she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, graciously greeting her subjects. Her father was to her right, her mother beside him, while Rin mingled with the guests, playing the part of a foreign dignitary to the gushing nobles.
In spite of her determination to be the perfect princess, she was unprepared for the person who appeared next. A broad-shouldered woman from the southern region of Lueland moved aside to continue down the line, and Rayne found her gaze drawn to the back of the room, over the feathered heads of those still waiting to greet her. There, they fell upon a familiar figure.
Tierri had been woefully absent. She had told him to go, and he had obeyed. Now there he was, speaking in quiet conference with a guard at the back of the room, resplendent in a clean burgundy coat buckled up the front and a leather belt that held his sword at his hip. He wore traveling gloves, and his cloak was slung over his arm. His beard was fuller than she had seen it before, and he had cut his hair short enough that he could no longer tie it back and it fell instead in waves across his forehead and neck. Her fingers twitched with the desire to brush it away.
Rayne absently greeted yet another noble, only briefly glancing away from Tierri, but when she looked back, he was shaking the guard's hand in a way that looked strangely final. Then he turned and gave a small salute to the man before disappearing through the door. Her breath stuttered. Her father wasn't paying attention, and the next noblewoman, one of the last in line, was already dipping into a low curtsy, her eyes on the floor. Making a split second decision, Rayne jumped from the dais, landing beside the woman who pressed her hand to her chest in surprise as she hurriedly straightened.