NINE
Two weeks after the wedding, a Royal courier arrived at the house, in the graveyard. Alaia and Lorea received him in the front parlor, and with what seemed an excessive amount of bowing and empty compliments, he passed over a roll of crisp parchment, tied with a bow of crimson silk and sealed with wax embellished with gold leaf.
Zorion and Itzal were already at court, so it seemed strange to Alaia that whatever this message contained, it hadn’t been delivered to them personally. She regarded it like it was a snake that might bite her.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Lorea asked once the courier had been shown out the door.
“I’d rather wait for Zorion, or better yet, Itzal, to look at it,” Alaia replied. “Considering it’s from the king, I wouldn’t put it past him to poison the paper.”
“You can’t poison paper,” Lorea said. “At least, I don’t think you can. Let me open it then. I’m positively dying to know what King Greedyguts himself has invited us to. It could be important.”
“If something happens to you, I’m going to tell your brother it’s all your fault,” Alaia said, handing over the parchment with a sigh. She was curious too, but her one meeting with Imanol had been enough to convince her to avoid him and anything associated with him at all costs.
Lorea untied the ribbon and cracked the seal. “What a waste of money,” she grumbled as she unrolled the parchment. “Well, he’s not cordially inviting us to our own execution, so it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s an invitation to the Sunlight Gala. I’d nearly forgotten that there’s always a ball on the first day of summer. I don’t think we’ve ever been invited before. Or maybe we have, and Zorion has been throwing the invitations in the fire.”
“That sounds like him,” Alaia said with a smile. “I’m sure it’s painful to go back to the palace.”
Lorea nodded. “For him, more for than me. I mean, it’s not as if I don’t remember living there, but I was only nine, so most of my memories are of lessons and things like that. Our mother died giving birth to me, and our father was busy ruling the kingdom. He did his best, but he didn’t really have time to coddle a little girl.
It’s good that Zorion’s the oldest. I think if I had been the heir, I would have taken the out that Imanol gave him, and retired to somewhere warm with all my money and never worried about anything again.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Alaia said. “You wouldn’t want to see the people suffer any more than he does.”
Lorea shrugged. “I don’t think I would have even considered it.” The rest of the day was spent caring for the children and writing reams of thank you letters for all the wedding gifts. They had only invited fifty guests, for reasons of money and space, but that didn’t mean that others in the kingdom didn’t send gifts anyway, once they heard the news.
Plus, the news of the triplets had spread through the capital like wildfire, and the children were collecting their own pile of presents. Itzal and his lieutenants would have to examine everything before it was used.
Zorion and Itzal arrived just as the rest of the house was sitting down to dinner, not a formal meal, but a friendly and casual affair in the kitchen with Maude and Galena. Sometimes Markel was there, or the butler, Alain, or any of the few other members of the mansion’s staff.
Lorea had told Alaia that, considering the size of the house and the presence of the Crown Prince and his entire family, the number of servants here was unusually small, but Alaia preferred it that way. It was almost like a family.
The children were passed from lap to lap, and they were just getting old enough to be interested in what other people were eating. Maude showed Alaia how to make the ground rice porridge and mashed fruit and veggies that she had used to start Zorion and Lorea on solid foods. Although she agreed with the village wisdom that it was best to breastfeed until the babies were walking, at least, she also found that they were less picky about eating later if they were exposed to different foods early.
Alaia was not inclined to disagree. Breastfeeding had been a soothing ritual when they were newborns, but now the triplets had a tendency to pinch, and she shuddered to think what would happen when they had a few teeth.
When Zorion walked in, Markel was trying to convince Izar to eat some mashed turnip, but she smacked the spoon with a peal of gurgled laughter, and the food flew across the room, nearly hitting her father in the face.
“I feel as if I’ve stepped onto the battlefield,” he said, wiping turnip from his shoulder and picking up the spoon from the floor. Alaia rose to her feet and kissed his cheek. When he left every morning, she couldn’t help worrying that it would be the last time they saw each other.
“How was court?” she asked. He waved off Maude’s attempts to serve him and started filling his own plate.
“No assassination attempts today,” Itzal said with a grin. “None all week, in fact. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Imanol is going soft. He’s not getting any younger after all. The chance of him producing an heir of his own grows fainter and fainter.”
“I think he’s just running out of assassins. And the money to hire them,” Zorion said. Lorea scooted over on the bench to give him room to sit down next to Alaia. She was holding Zuzen in her lap, and he greeted his father with a gummy smile while continuing to bang his spoon on the table.
“We had our own bit of excitement today,” Lorea said, giving Alaia a prodding look.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” she said. She’d be worrying and wondering over it all day long, but the chaos of dinner had completely erased it from her mind. “The Royal courier delivered an invitation to the Sunlight Gala.”
Zorion pursed his lips. “Tempted as I am to pretend I never received it, this could be an opportunity for us. The troops should be close to the city by that time.”
“I see what you’re thinking,” Itzal said with a mischievous grin. “With all the fuss surrounding the gala, we might be able to sneak a bunch of troops into the city proper, maybe even into the noble’s quarter, without the king suspecting a thing.”
“Aren’t you concerned that it might be a trap?” Alaia asked. “If the king has never bothered to invite you before, why would he do so now, unless it was going to benefit him?”
“You’re absolutely right about that,” agreed Itzal. “But he’s not nearly as clever as he thinks he is. The Gala is an extremely public venue, and we have over a month to prepare. I’ll make sure everything is safe. You’ll have plenty of other things to worry about. Dance lessons, for one.”
Alaia sighed. “I suppose there’s no getting around it. But who’s going to do the teaching?”
“We all will,” Lorea said. “I think between Zorion, Itzal and I, we have enough experience so you won’t embarrass yourself. I think Maude and Alain can dance a bit too.”
Of all the things she had to learn in the process of marrying Zorion, this seemed the least objectionable. So, it was decided that they would practice dancing for a few hours every evening, and Itzal and Zorion would make a special effort to be home early enough to participate. Meanwhile, Maude would find a local seamstress to make Zorion and Alaia new clothes for the ball.
This was, in many ways, their debut as a couple, and a chance for the nobles who weren’t already backing Zorion to see the contrast between Imanol and those who planned to replace him. Unfortunate though it was, having the support of the nobility often didn’t depend on whether or not you were a better ruler. This was probably their only chance to capture the hearts of the people who were primarily impressed by appearances.
*************************
The house didn’t have a ballroom, for obvious reasons, but since they usually had dinner in the kitchen, the great hall would do nicely. When Alaia came down with Lorea and Maude, Galena, Maite and the triplets in tow, she found Itzal already there, speaking to Markel and Alain in the corner. He turned and grinned at the ladies as they entered. “Zorion will be along in a moment. He just wanted to change clothes.” Alaia’s brow furrowed briefly; she must have just missed him. But no sooner had she registered this disappointment than his arms snaked around her waist from behind, and she felt a kiss on the back of her neck.
She reached a hand up to brush his cheek. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away from court.”
“How could I miss a chance to spend the evening dancing with my beautiful wife?” he asked, smiling against her neck. “Besides, Imanol is in a foul mood lately, which I hope has something to do with me, so he hasn’t been forcing the nobles to dance attendance on him quite so late.”
Itzal rapped his knuckles on the mantel to get everyone’s attention. “So, the first dance we’ll be doing is the waltz, the basis for most of the dances currently popular at court. It’s a simple three-step maneuver, to the beat of three. I thought we’d do a demonstration first, if you’d be so kind as to join me, Lorea.”
Zorion’s sister smiled. “I don’t mind at all,” she said, but Alaia could see a flash of color on her cheeks and wondered, did Lorea have feelings for her brother’s best friend? It was something to ask about later. They clasped hands, her right in his left, and Lorea rested her left hand on Itzal’s shoulder while he placed his right hand on her waist.
“Gentlemen, if you would give us a song?” Itzal said, and Markel and his men picked up some instruments—a reed pipe, a fiddle, and a skin drum—and began to play a slow, almost mournful tune. Alaia knew it was nothing like the music they would hear in the palace, but Itzal and Lorea danced quite gracefully to it, nonetheless.
It did look fairly simple, at least to start out with, but it was obvious that they had both been doing this for years as they started to add spins and flourishes without even having to speak. By the end of the song, they both looked out of breath, but everyone was clapping.
“That was unfair, Itzal. You set too high a standard, and now I’m going to look clumsy in front of Alaia,” Zorion said, but he was grinning.
“Considering everything you’ve put her through, and she still consented to marry you, I don’t think a little clumsiness is going to put her off,” Itzal retorted. “But let’s not stand around. Since this is just a refresher course for everyone but Alaia, I think I will partner with her, and you all can switch off as you see fit.”
“Why can’t I dance with my wife?” Zorion complained. Alaia covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
“Because you won’t correct her form. You’ll just stare calf-eyed until she steps on your foot, and then you’ll blame yourself. You can dance with her after she learns to waltz,” Itzal said, and not even Zorion could argue with that truth.
He grumbled, but in the end, he agreed to dance with his sister. Alaia took her place with Itzal, her main fear being that she would be so far behind what the spymaster was used to that he would become frustrated. But the first thing he did was show her the steps again, without music, walking her through each one slowly, and then gaining speed as she grew more confident.
“Now, I think we’re ready for the music again,” Itzal said. Markel and the others started to play, and Alaia heard one of the children laugh in response. The dance started off well; Alaia felt like she was getting the hang of things.
“Ouch, Lorea. That was my foot,” Zorion said from behind her.
“I know,” his sister replied. “I did it on purpose. Pay attention to your feet, instead of Alaia, nitwit.” Alaia smiled, but the second she started paying attention to her own feet, she tripped.
“Sorry, Itzal,” she mumbled, and he shrugged. But it seemed to keep happening, and even if he wasn’t frustrated, Alaia was certainly getting there.
“May I cut in?” Zorion said, suddenly appearing at her side. To her relief, Itzal released her immediately.
“Actually, I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t we slow down the tempo a bit?” The song mellowed as Zorion took her right hand and she placed the other on his shoulder. The tension of her muscles eased at his familiar touch, and she found herself smiling.
“Don’t worry so much about what your feet are doing,” he said. “My first instructor told me that dancing is ultimately a conversation between two people. It works best when you keep your eyes on your partner.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said, smiling up at him. Humor and love glimmered in his amber eyes.
“Then let’s show them how this is done,” he said, and he led her into the first steps. It actually was hard to keep from looking at her feet, at first, but she held Zorion’s gaze. When she looked at him, she didn’t worry quite so much, and her body seemed to know what to do, taking cues from the music and from his touch.
He held her much more closely than Itzal had, and every time they made a turn, his hip pressed into her, a brief but alluring point of contact. She almost forgot they were dancing, and then the song was over. Her heart was pounding, and Zorion’s eyes held a promise of later.
“Very good,” Itzal said. “Now it’s time to add some flourishes!”
**************************
The other important part of Alaia’s first true appearance as the Crown Princess was her outfit. Maude had found a seamstress to take her measurements, and there had been many long discussions about fabric, cut, and style that had mostly gone over her head. But today the dress was nearly finished, and it was time for the final fitting.
Lorea’s excitement was contagious. “I wish Zorion would let me go too,” she said, practically dancing on her toes as they waited for the seamstress to arrive. “I mean, I know it’s a safety precaution. It would be foolish to hand the king so many tempting targets in a place where we can easily get separated, plus I’ll be one more person to guard the children. But I’ve never been to the Sunlight Gala, and your dress is going to look so amazing.”
Alaia smiled. “If it’s even half as lovely as you say it is, I’m afraid your brother won’t let me got to the ball either. He’ll want an unimpeded view.”
“He does do an awful lot of staring,” Lorea agreed. “It’s a wonder he gets anything done.” There was a knock on the door, and Maude appeared with the seamstress, an older woman with the speech of someone who’d grown up in one of the villages, just as Alaia had. This had immediately put her at ease the first time they met, and it was the same now. They chatted about the weather while her assistant carried the dress into the room, carefully protected from the elements by an oilcloth bag.
“Everyone at the Sunlight Gala dresses in sunny colors to honor the theme of the night, but that would hardly complement your complexion,” the seamstress said. “I think you’ll like what we’ve come up with.” She pulled the bag off the dress and Alaia made a soft sound of wonder at the navy-blue satin and taffeta.
“Hurry up and put it on!” Lorea said, squealing with glee. Alaia went behind the screen, having already prepared for the dress by donning a loose corset and several voluminous petticoats. She dropped it over her head, a sleeveless underdress first, and then the main gown, and laced up the front. When she stepped out from behind the screen, Lorea nearly swooned “This dress is gorgeous. My brother is going to faint when he sees you.”
“I hope not,” Alaia said with a half-smile. “That would be inconvenient.” But even from the less than perfect vantage point of looking down at herself, she could tell the gown was a masterpiece. Navy blue satin fell to the floor, embroidered with stars in gold and silver thread.
The skirt was split down the middle in the front to show the pale yellow underdress, the hem of which was stitched with a rising sun made with hundreds of tiny beads. The sleeves of the dress were long, draping elegantly over her hands, and made of fine lace so that her arms showed underneath as if through clouds.
“We’ve made a matching outfit for the prince as well,” the seamstress said as she began checking the fit, “in a reverse color scheme to suit his warmer skin tone. My son will be by this evening to do his fitting.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Alaia said. She could just imagine how handsome Zorion would look in gold.
“You guys are going to blow the nobles away,” Lorea said. “We have to find just the right jewelry. I think I might have a tiara of mother’s that’ll be perfect.” Alaia knew there was no use arguing about it, so she nodded, and Lorea started to discuss ribbons.