Work-in-Progress Wednesday: The last chapters until June! (8-9)

Okay.

I know I owe you all an apology.

For a while, I’d been writing along at a nice clip, publishing new chapters for you every week.  Then I missed a week.  Then I caught up.  Then I missed… a lot of weeks.

Here are my excuses:

1) I got a new job!  I’m now a personal trainer at a commercial gym.  I love, love, love working with people towards their fitness goals.  Just because we’re a writing, reading, Stranger Things-watching, intellectual geek doesn’t mean we can’t also get into great shape!  [ As a matter of fact, I’m going to run my very first Spartan Race in SoCal this May!  If you’re going, too, ping me. ]

2) My personal life has been nuts.  The good news is I think it’s settled-ish for now.

3) The Sci-Fi and Fantasy Lesfic Preview freebie promotion took up a LOT of my time.

4) I have just finished proofing the audiobook version of Reverie!  You guys, it’s *awesome.*  You should totally give it a listen when it comes out.  My narrator, Liz Saydah, did such a great job.  I feel like she read Reverie *exactly* the way it was supposed to be read.  Honestly, even if you read the book already, you might want to listen to it when it goes live in a few weeks, just because it will give you a totally different experience than reading it on paper / screen.

But onto this week’s preview chapters.

Guys, a few things happening here to make you aware of.  First of all, these two chapters I’m providing you with today are the *last chapters* I’m going to provide.  My late-June deadline for this book is coming up quickly, and I need to devote every spare minute to writing.  Which means I’ve got no spare minutes for triple-editing and posting preview chapters.

Next, if you’ve been enjoying this story and you aren’t on my email list, get on it!  Seriously.  I will give a select number of people from my list a chance to READ THE WHOLE THING FOR FREE as I do my final edits.

PLUS, the very talented Clarissa Yeo of YoClaDesigns is working hard on my book cover at the moment.  She’s good — so good! — and I can’t wait to share with you what she comes up with for my book cover.  But I probably won’t be sharing by blog… I’ll be sharing by email.  So again, join my list, get yourself a free short story, and stay tuned.

And now… (Unedited) Chapters 8 and 9 of Princess of Dorsa, Book 1 of the Chronicles of Dorsa.

—

8

“And how was your training today?” the Emperor asked.  He leaned over his dinner plate to peer sideways at Tasia, looking past the young nobleman placed between them to get a better view of his daughter.  “Your skin is tanning from your hours on the beach.  You’ll look like you’re from Terinto yourself before much longer.”

Tasia dabbed at her mouth politely, gazing across the dining hall at the table of advisors and servants at the other end.  Indeed, just as Mylla had suggested, Joslyn sat beside Cole.  And he seemed to be asking her a question even at this moment.

“So I will,” the Princess said to her father, forcing a smile.

“What training is this?” asked the nobleman.

His name was Mace of House Gifford, and he was the latest suitor of the Princess who’d been invited to dinner.  He was, Tasia had to admit, somewhat less dull than the last five suitors.  Tall and dark-haired, like most men of the West, he had so far proven himself to be confident without being boastful, respectful without being sniveling, all while seated between the most powerful man in the realm on one side of him and his heir apparent on the other.

“The Emperor believes I need to be trained in basic self-defense,” Tasia said evenly.

Her younger sister Adela, seated on the Emperor’s other side, leaned forward.    She giggled and grinned at Mace.  “But so far, all her training has been horribly boring.  The only thing she’s done is carry rocks up and down a beach.  Joslyn won’t let her even touch a dagger or a sword yet.”

Mace took a sip of wine.  A cupbearer appeared to refill his goblet the moment he set it down.

“Moving rocks?” Mace said, glancing from daughters to father.  “Is that so?”

“My new guard seems to think I need to improve my strength and my endurance before my true self-defense lessons begin,” Tasia said, not bothering to keep the disdain from her voice.

“Forgive me if I’m being dense,” Mace said, “but why would a princess need to learn basic self-defense, when surrounded by such a competent palace guard?”  He nodded across the room at Cole.  “My father tells me that Cole of Easthook is one of the most distinguished military veterans in the Empire, and that he handpicks each member of the palace guard himself, and oft-as-not oversees their training.”

“So he does,” the Emperor agreed.  “But the Empire has its enemies, Mace.  Every Empire does.  The House of Dorsa has always seen fit to train its sons in the art of self-protection and combat.  Since I have no sons, I have seen fit to train my eldest daughter in this art.  We’ve also expanded her education to include advanced political strategy and negotiation.”

The Emperor gave Mace a stare halfway between challenging and inspecting, an expression which Tasia immediately recognized.  She wondered if Mace understood its intent.  The statement the Emperor had made was clear enough to her:  Emperor Andreth was raising a daughter to do more than simply bear children.  He was raising a daughter who would be so intimately involved in the future of the Empire that she would need the same skills as a son.  In other words, he was giving the talents of an Emperor to a girl-child and actually expected her to use them one day.

All of which meant that Mace, should his quest for Tasia’s hand in marriage succeed, might never be the true power in the realm.  It would be something hard to accept for a young nobleman with an ambition for an Emperor’s crown.

But Mace nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and Tasia had the feeling the Emperor’s implication had not been lost on him.

“Of course,” he said.  “Very understandable.  The Princess will be the Empress one day, and will have need of all such skills.”  He raised his goblet, glancing from side to side.  “To the House of Dorsa.  Long may its wisdom protect the Empire.”

The Emperor gave a pleased nod and lifted his own cup.  “Long may its wisdom protect the Empire,” he repeated, and his daughters followed suit.

But Tasia’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Which fate was worse? she pondered.  To be the girl-child of an Emperor and have her role in life pre-determined by the mere existence of a womb?  Or to be a girl-child of an Emperor who had decided that, out of a group of poor options, she was the best choice to safeguard the Empire’s future?

Both fates Tasia little more than a piece in a game she had never consented to play.

She looked across the room, hoping to catch Mylla’s eye.  But the girl was laughing about something with Adela’s two handmaids, their attention far removed from the royal family.

A pair of dark eyes did catch Tasia’s, though.  Joslyn’s.  Her face was solemn as she watched the Princess, and for one eerie moment, Tasia had the uncomfortable feeling that the guard had heard her thoughts.  Joslyn nodded at the Princess, shifted her gaze back down to her plate, and the strange feeling passed.

Tasia returned her attention to Mace and the Emperor.

#

An hour or two later, having changed out of her evening gown and into her night robe, Tasia brushed her hair by herself at her vanity.  Mylla prepared Tasia’s bed for the night; Joslyn performed her nightly inspection of the Princess’s three adjoining chambers — the spacious antechamber, where Tasia entertained visitors and where Joslyn had recently taken up residence; the servant’s chamber, where Mylla slept of late; and Tasia’s own bedchamber.

Joslyn approached Tasia, standing behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“So my rooms are safe for the night?” Tasia asked.  “No assassins hiding beneath mattresses?  No goblins behind the tapestries?”

Joslyn permitted herself a half-smile.  “Goblins can be quite nasty, when provoked.”

Tasia set her brush down and turned on her stool.  “Was that actually a joke, Guard Joslyn of Terinto?”

Joslyn’s half-smile grew into a smirk.  “I would never joke about goblins.”

“I should’ve known better than to ascribe a sense of humor to you,” Tasia said, trying her best to cut Joslyn with a sharp tongue and sharp tone.

Joslyn’s smile disappeared, and the cold sobriety she usually wore returned.  “Yes, Princess, your chambers and the Lady Mylla’s chambers are both secure.”

But her stoic features shifted slightly at the mention of Mylla, and Tasia, who was only now beginning to differentiate one subtle expression of her guard’s from the next, quirked an eyebrow.

“What, Joslyn?” Tasia said.

The guard wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “It’s nothing, Princess.”

“Your mind seized on something when you mentioned Lady Mylla.  Speak to me freely.”

Joslyn hesitated.  “I shouldn’t, Majesty.”

“I insist that you do.  If you don’t, then you give me even more reason not to trust you.  So tell me:  What do you want to say?”

Tasia steeled herself, expecting to hear another insult like the one the guard had given her on the beach.

“Only that… if the Lady Mylla wishes to accompany you in your bed, or if you wish to join her in her chambers, you need not fear that I will say anything to Commander Cole or the Emperor.”

Tasia’s heart froze for a moment.  How had the guard known…?  She and Mylla had been so careful in Joslyn’s presence, never so much as brushing against one another without first ensuring that the guard’s back was turned.

Tasia’s eyes flitted to Mylla across the room, but the girl was still busy turning down the bed and didn’t seem to have heard the exchange.

“Joslyn.  I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your safety is my duty, Princess,” said the guard.  “Which means that… Unless I perceive a threat to your person — or unless you place yourself in danger — I have no reason to pass any information to my superiors.”

She held Tasia’s gaze steadily, and finally it was the Princess who had to turn away.

“I know you don’t like my presence here,” Joslyn continued.  “I can’t say I blame you.”  She waited a moment, but Tasia said nothing.  “And I know you hate the drills on the beach.  But I promise you, Princess:  My only motivation is ensuring your safety.  That is why I am here.  So I hope you will come to trust me, and believe me when I say that everything I am doing, even the things that I say, are always aimed at protecting you.”

“So you say,” Tasia replied grumpily.  She refused to meet the guard’s eye.

But then she remembered her lesson from the morning with Wise Man Norix, the teaching on defeating enemies of the Empire through befriending them.  “The lion can become as placid as the deer,” Norix had said, “when his stomach is full and his attention has been drawn away to pleasant frolics.”

Tasia finally looked up.  She attempted a smile.  “But perhaps you will surprise me.  And perhaps I will surprise both of us by coming to trust you.”

“I’m only a simple soldier,” Joslyn said.  “Nothing I ever do should surprise you, because everything I do has the same goal of protecting you.”  She reached forward; Tasia leaned away from her instinctively.  Joslyn hesitated, but tapped a small blister on Tasia’s palm anyway.  “Even these are for your protection, Princess.”

Tasia scoffed.  “You have an odd way of providing service to your betters.”

Joslyn’s lips pinched slightly.

“You have more to add?” Tasia said.  She was getting better at reading the guard, and she was sure the frown was a sign the nomad had just bitten her tongue.  “As I said:  speak freely.”

Joslyn seemed to gather her thoughts before speaking.  “This is my first time serving in the palace.  And other than General Galter, I have spent very little time around the highborn, but…”

“But what?”

“But where I come from, men and women rule because they are the strongest members of their tribes, not because they are born to other leaders.”

Tasia narrowed her eyes, her attempts at diplomacy already forgotten.  “Are you insulting me yet again?  Telling me I am not fit to lead?”

“No, Princess, that’s not — ”

“Then what are you trying to say, Joslyn of Terinto?” 

She placed extra emphasis on Joslyn’s place name, hoping to remind the guard that her region was conquered by Tasia’s father when she and Joslyn were both still small.  And not just conquered — despite fierce resistance from the nomads, several of the desert tribes had eventually been completely wiped out.

But the unflappable Joslyn didn’t respond to the barb.  Instead she said evenly, “I’m saying that I wish to provide you with the very best service I can, even if it is not the kind of service you’re used to.”  She paused.  “I am sorry for your position.  But I will do everything in my power to make sure you can execute your duty safely.”

Tasia snorted.  “Sorry for my position?  A soldier sorry for a princess.  Now you do surprise me, guard.”

“I am a soldier because I chose to be a soldier.  You have had no choice in being a princess.”

Tasia’s brow furrowed as she studied her guard.  Every time she exchanged more than a few words with Joslyn, something unexpected happened.  Whether it was veiled insults on the beach or the frank and correct assessments of Tasia’s own reluctance, Joslyn was unlike anyone, servant or otherwise, that Tasia had ever met.

It made the guard hard to predict.  And therefore hard to control.

And yet…

Yet Tasia had to admit that she at least believed Joslyn’s assertion that she wanted only to protect the Princess.  The guard seemed completely sincere.  So there was that, at least.

Joslyn inclined her chin when Tasia didn’t respond.  “Sleep soundly, Princess.”

“And you, guard.”

Joslyn left the room, exiting into the antechamber and closing the door softly behind her.  The Princess watched her go, wondering if she found the antechamber comfortable.  She slept on a narrow cot in one corner of the room, her only privacy a few rice paper screens, her only possessions stored in a small footlocker.

What was in that footlocker? Tasia wondered.  A spare uniform, extra undergarments?  A brush? — the guard’s straight black hair was always well-kept; surely she brushed it each morning when she rose.

Perhaps the locker held mementos of Joslyn’s desert home — a sketch of her family, a trinket of some sort.

Mylla walked over to the vanity, breaking Tasia out of her musings.

“Well?” the handmaid said.

“Well, what?”

“What did that woman do this time?”

Tasia shook her head.  “She is the strangest palace servant I have ever met.”

Mylla let out a laugh.  “Why?  What did she say?”

That she understands me perfectly, Tasia thought, and the idea was unnerving, the same way the moment at dinner had been, when she got the feeling that Joslyn had known exactly what she was thinking.

But Tasia waved her hand dismissively.  “Nothing important.  Just an earnest soldier’s pledges of loyalty.”  She stood, reaching for Mylla.  The girl stepped forward, and Tasia pulled her close, lacing her fingers in the small of Mylla’s back.  “The chambermaid says she’ll bring you a new mattress tomorrow.  Come sleep in my bed tonight.  Your room must be chilly.”  Tasia slid her hands down, squeezing Mylla’s firm behind.

“My, my.  Feeling a bit frisky, are we?”

Tasia grinned.  Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek against Mylla’s and whispered, “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

But the handmaid pulled back, glancing at the door leading to the antechamber.  “What about the nomad?”

Tasia thought for a moment, weighing just how much she believed her new guard.  “She won’t be a problem.”

Mylla cocked her head skeptically.  “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

Mylla smiled then, gave Tasia a long, slow kiss.  “My lips have missed yours,” she said when it ended.

“My lips have missed your whole body.  Every part of it.”

Mylla put her hands on Tasia’s shoulders.  “If you’re serious about inviting me back to your bed tonight — ”

“I am.”

“Then let me switch night robes,” said Mylla.  “This one is constructed for warmth, not for… convenience.”  She turned away from Tasia, heading towards her bedchamber, swishing her hips suggestively as she went.

“Mylla?”

The handmaid stopped, looked over her shoulder at the Princess, her long dark hair draping across her shoulders in a way that Tasia found lovely.

“Yes?” Mylla said.

“Don’t forget the contraption.  Come back wearing it.”

A cat’s sly grin grew on Mylla’s face.  “Be careful what you ask for, Princess.”

The words sent a thrill down Tasia’s spine.  She shrugged out of her night robe, letting it fall into a heap on the floor.

She walked naked towards the large bed.

—

9

Tasia stood before the ornately carved double cedar doors that led into the council chambers.  She put her hand on the handle, then let it fall again.  She took a deep breath, letting it out again slowly.

“Princess?” Joslyn said behind her.  “Shall we enter?”

“Give me a moment, please.”

Tasia traced the relief carvings on the door with her eyes.  From top to bottom, left to right, the carvings on the door told the origin story of the royal lineage.  According to legend, the Empire began with a man on the run — when a simple mountain chieftain named Reynald, who led his small tribe south as they sought to escape bloodthirsty half-man, half-beast creatures in the north.

Legend had it that the tribe journeyed from the northern mountains to the steppe, the steppe to the Endless Wood, the Endless Wood to the lowland swamps.  They kept running until they reached the coast, the beasts pursuing them the entire way, picking the tribesmen off one by one until only a dozen of them remained.  Pinned by monsters to their north and ocean to the south, Reynald and the remainder of the tribe made their last stand.  It was there that the first Wise Man, Qulos, who was really more a sort of sorcerer than true man of learning, worked together with Reynald to trick the beasts and drive them into the ocean, where a storm Qulos conjured washed them out to sea.  At that spot, Reynald and Qulos founded the city of Lorsin, a word that meant “victory” in the ancient tongue.

The chieftain, who was little more than a brutish barbarian himself, had no way of knowing at the time that Port Lorsin would one day become the center of civilization for the known world, or that his descendants would one day sit in an opulent palace built on the site of his simple log fort, discussing the fate of more than a million subjects spread out across the entire southern half of the continent.

“Reynald and Qulos?” Joslyn asked, stepping forward to stand beside Tasia as the Princess continued to stare at the cedar doors rather than open them.

“Yes.  And here — ”  She pointed at the door on the right, towards the figure of a woman in a long gown, its sweeping train merging with ocean waves behind her.  “The Empress Adela, founder of the House of Dorsa before it had such a name.  My sister is named for her.  And my sister couldn’t be any more different from the Empress.”  Tasia sighed.  “Empress Adela… She ruled.  Truly ruled.  Her husband was Emperor, of course, but she was the real ruler.  It was the last time a woman ruled the Empire.  But of course the Empire was much smaller then.  Fewer people.  Fewer wars.  Less complication.”

Joslyn leaned forward slightly, getting a better look at the Empress.

“Ruling an Empire is always complicated, Princess,” she said after a moment.  “No matter the size.  Because people, by nature, do not wish to be ruled.”  The guard turned, facing Tasia.  “When your time comes, you will be ready.  Your father is seeing to that.”

“You sound awfully confident in my abilities, for someone who told me only a week ago I couldn’t dress myself, let alone order soldiers into battle.”

Joslyn straightened, studied Tasia for a moment.  “May I see your hand, Princess?”

“My… why?”

The guard reached forward, turned Tasia’s hand palm-up.  She ran her thumb across the top of it lightly and nodded her approval.  “Callouses.  In my experience, not many highborn — outside Terinto, that is — have them.”

Tasia snatched her hand away.  “I know.  They’re terribly unsightly.  And they are entirely your fault.  You with your ridiculous beach drills.”

Joslyn shook her head.  “Callouses are an accomplishment.  They mean you are learning.  And you haven’t complained about the beach drills since the day you and Mylla conspired to find ways to have the Emperor disapprove of me.”

Tasia blanched.  “You were listening to our conversation.  Insubordinate.”

Ever since Mylla had returned to Tasia’s bed a week ago, Tasia had wondered how the guard had known.  Now she supposed she had her answer — the guard’s insolence hadn’t been the only thing the Princess and her handmaid had discussed at the beach that day.

“I didn’t listen deliberately, your Highness,” Joslyn said.  “I simply happen to have very good hearing.  You couldn’t imagine Commander Cole of Easthook choosing me for this position if I didn’t, could you?”

Embarrassed, Tasia held her tongue.

The guard gestured at the door.  “Are you ready to go inside?  Or is the aim to continue your education by standing outside and studying the doors?”

Tasia rolled her eyes.  “Insubordinate and insolent.”

“Yes, your Highness.  So I’ve been told,” Joslyn said, and the corner of her mouth twitched in the direction of a smile.

Tasia ran sweaty palms down her dress.  She should’ve been angry with her guard’s revelation that she had overheard Tasia’s very private conversation with Mylla, but now wasn’t the time to think about it.  Maybe she would grow angry later.  For now, she was glad that she was walking into the council room filled with ambassadors with the guard at her back.  At least Tasia would have one person in the council room who at least seemed to believe she had a place there.

“Very well,” Tasia said, composing herself.  “Let us enter.  And see if another woman of the House of Dorsa can learn to rule.”  She reached for the door handle, but Joslyn side-stepped around her.

“No, Princess.  Allow me.”  The guard gave what Tasia assumed was a sympathetic smile and opened the door.

“ — resources and lives and yet another border war while Empire citizens within our own borders starve!” an ambassador said as Tasia stepped into the council room.  He banged his fist on the table for emphasis.  The ambassador seated next to him nodded vigorously, but stopped when Tasia and Joslyn entered the room.  He did a double-take and then hastily got to his feet, bowing in the direction of the Princess.

The other lords and ambassadors did the same, all of them out-of-sync and awkward as they realized the Princess had entered and required proper recognition.

Tasia smiled graciously, glancing around the room of powerful men, meeting the eyes of the ones she knew and giving them a friendly nod.

Her father, seated at the head of the long, heavy wooden table, indicated an open chair to his left, and Tasia picked her way through the throng of cupbearers, guards, noble-born sons, and other attendants who stood in a messy ring behind the chairs of their masters.  Keenly aware that all eyes were on her, Tasia was careful to keep the smile plastered to her face, and prayed that no one would be able to hear the hammering beat of her heart.  She settled into the chair next to her father.  A few feet behind her, she could feel Joslyn’s presence, situating herself a respectful distance away.  They were the only two women in the room, and for once, Tasia felt glad to have the guard with her.

“Lords, Ambassadors,” said the Emperor once Tasia sat down.  “From now on, the Princess Natasia will be joining us during our daily meetings.”

A soft murmur rippled through the room.  Tasia made sure her smile didn’t falter, even as her stomach twisted into knots.

A Wise Man standing on the far end of the room took a step forward, whispered something into his Lord’s ear.  Tasia didn’t recognize the Wise Man, but she knew the Lord.  He was a haughty man whose family’s estate wasn’t far to the north of Port Lorsin.

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” the Lord began, “the Wise Man Talmadge informs me that it is unprecedented for a princess to join in on council meetings.”

The Emperor nodded as if he’d been expecting such a comment.  “Yes.  It is unprecedented.  As is the Princess Natasia herself.”  The murmur grew in volume, until finally the Emperor raised his hand to silence the room.  “Enough.  My daughter is joining us from now on.  If I had a son who was of age, he would be joining us.  I do not have a son.  The Gods saw to that.  But I do have Natasia, and you will respect her right, as my eldest child and heir, to be here.”

At the word “heir,” the gentle waves of murmuring grew into a full-scale sea of discussion.  Lords and ambassadors variously looked offended, shocked, amused, enraged.  The servants and sons and guards behind them took to talking, gasping, arguing, and snorting their disbelief.

All the while, Tasia sat frozen in her chair, the smile still upon her face.

“Enough,” the Emperor said, the word ringing through the room.  The rafters seemed to echo with the remnants of his voice even as the men grew silent.  Only when the last whisper had disappeared did the Emperor speak again.  “We have more important things to discuss than the presence of Princess Natasia.”  He looked from face to face, reminding each man that only one of them bore the title of Emperor.  “Now, Ambassador Lorent.  Before the princess entered, I believe you were making your argument against further expansion of the war in the east?”

Ambassador Lorent, a sour-looking man with a long face and drooping mustache, the same man who’d been banging his fist against the table when Tasia and Joslyn first walked in, now nodded slowly.  “Yes… Yes, your Majesty.  I was.  I was pointing out that we have sent enough resources and human lives to the East to last us an entire lifetime.  It is time that we abandon our fruitless fight with the barbarians and bring our men home — especially now that the harvest season is almost upon us.  They are needed in the fields.”

“If we fail to secure the eastern border,” Wise Man Norix said from his position on the other side of the Emperor, “they will have no fields to go home to.”

A lord across from Ambassador Lorent spoke.  “I can understand why the war in the East seems so impractical to you, Lorent.  From the steppe, it must seem that the barbarians are a distant threat.  Almost a mythical one.  Let me assure you:  The barbarians are not mythical.  If we do not secure the East, they will pour over the mountains and into the Empire.  Into my lands, where my villagers will be the very first to lose their lives.”

The men continued to argue about the ongoing war on the eastern edge of the Empire.  As Tasia listened, she tried to imagine herself in her father’s position, since he was the one who would ultimately need to make a decision about withdrawing the Empire’s forces or committing even more troops.

She understood Wise Man Norix’s statement that securing the eastern border was a priority that, once achieved, would make the entire Empire safer.  Perhaps, however, she tended to agree with him simply because he was the palace’s head Wise Man, her personal tutor since the age of four, and her father’s most senior advice.

And Ambassador Lorent had a point.  The war to expand the Empire’s eastern border across the mountains had been going on since Tasia was a girl.  Her father had only just finished putting down the Western Rebellion when he started the war in the East, which meant the war had been festering for over a decade now.  And when the first spoils of war came home to the capital after a few easy victories, the people were enthusiastic.  There were parades in honor of the brave soldiers; there were barbarian leaders shackled to public posts like human trophies.

In the time since those initial, optimistic months, the fighting had sometimes waxed and sometimes waned.  Occasionally, the barbarians would overtake a mountain post and pour into the Empire’s easternmost lands, terrorizing villages and farmlands in the mountain’s foothills.  Then her father would send fresh soldiers, the barbarians would be beaten back to their side of the mountains, and the cycle would begin again.  The latest plan was to take the lands immediately on the other side of the mountains, the lands currently claimed by the barbarians, and in this way create a buffer zone between the Empire and the most dangerous of the mountain tribes.

But Tasia couldn’t help but have a certain foreboding about the war in the East, because it not long after the war’s beginning some eleven years ago, her mother died.  The death had seemed an omen.

It was the eve of Tasia’s seventh birthday.  Her brother Nik was five; her sister Adela was still an infant.  It was hard to say what killed her mother.  Norix said her humors had been affected by the especially cold and wet winter, and that once her system had been weakened by childbirth, she had never quite managed to regain enough strength to fight off the sicknesses that followed.

But Tasia never believed that.

She had always believed, even as a girl, that her mother died of a broken heart.

The Empress Bonila had never been happy being the Emperor’s wife.  It had been a political marriage, strategically orchestrated by Norix to tie the northeastern lands where she came from closer to the capital.  The first few sparks of rebellion in the West had already started to kindle, and the young, untested Emperor Andreth needed the unconditional support of the wealthy lords in the north.  All the Empire’s mines were in those northern mountain; there wasn’t a copper, silver, or gold coin that didn’t come from the region.  With the West rebelling, losing the support of the wealthy northeast would’ve been catastrophic.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tasia watched her father as he listened to the ambassadors and lords argue with one another.  He looked calm — a northern mountain himself — but the subtle, occasional ripple of his jaw muscles beneath his thick beard gave him away.  The Western Rebellion ended years ago, but the Empire remained unified only through a tenuous combination of mutual need, historical ties, and her father’s careful maneuvering.  One wrong decision still had the power to unravel the delicate balance he had so carefully cultivated.

Tasia wondered sometimes if her father regretted the marriage to her mother.  If he had to do it all over again, would he have chosen a Western Lady instead of the unhappy but wealthy young beauty from the northeast?  He could’ve married Mylla’s aunt, for instance.  House Harthing was one of the only Western houses that had remained loyal to the Emperor during the rebellion, and a marriage to someone in the West would’ve signaled the Empire’s willingness to hear the Western Realm’s needs.

Her father’s voice suddenly cut into the argument at the council table, pulling Tasia out of her recollections and into the present.

“Ambassador Lorent, Lord Albert, I thank you both for your input,” the Emperor said, cutting Lord Albert off halfway through his sentence.  The table fell respectfully silent, all eyes on the Emperor, waiting for his final decision.

“I will consider both of your points and discuss them with my advisors,” he said.  “At tomorrow’s meeting, I will outline my final decision about the future of the war in the East.”

Ambassador Lorent, whose face was sour enough already, frowned unhappily at the Emperor’s words.

“For the time being,” the Emperor continued, “we will compromise by not committing more troops until after the harvest season.”

“Even if we don’t commit more troops,” Ambassador Lorent said, “the ones who have already been away from home for some months — ”

“Enough, Lorent,” said the Emperor.  “As I said:  I have heard your arguments.  I do not need you to repeat them.”

The ambassador pressed his lips together tightly, as if it took great effort for him to keep silent.

The Emperor stood from his place at the head of the table, triggering a wave of standing, shuffling lords and ambassadors.

“Good day to all of you,” the Emperor said simply, and turned his back on the room, heading for his private door in the rear of the room as the attendees bowed their heads and mumbled a hasty round of “Good day to you, Majesty,” “Thank you, Emperor,” and “Yes, Sire”s. 

Tasia was eager to make her own exit, but a handful of the nobles hung back to smile, bow, kiss her ring, and express their “deep gratitude” for her presence at the council meeting.

Deep gratitude.  Coming from some of the same men who had been aghast at the presence of a princess at their council meeting.

But she played along, thanking them for their kindness, for their service to the Empire, smiling when they smiled at her, even though she knew it was all false.  They only spoke to her with respect because they thought doing so might further their own positions.  And for her part, she only smiled because smiling graciously was one of the most important duties of a princess.  No sooner did one lord release her hand than another one would take it, planting a fresh kiss on her ring and paying her some fatuous compliment.

“It is so wonderful to see you here, Princess,” said a lord on her left, dropping into a deep bow and kissing the seal of the House of Dorsa on her hand as Tasia turned her head.

“Lord Galen,” Tasia said.  “It is so good to see you again.”

“Is my daughter caring for you well?” Lord Galen asked, rising from his bow.

He smiled broadly as he released her hand, and it occurred to Tasia that he must’ve been rather dashing in his youth.  No wonder Mylla was so beautiful.  Lord Galen had aged well; his salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, held at the back of his head by a tasteful, thin black ribbon.  The greying hair and crow’s feet sprouting from the corners of his eyes hinted at his age, which must have been at least sixty winters.  That made Lord Galen of House Harthing older than Tasia’s father by more than a decade, but unlike many of the older lords Tasia knew, he maintained the slim, muscled figure of a much younger man.  And when he gripped her fingers, she’d felt the callouses of his daily sword work, which Mylla said he still engaged in for two hours each day before dawn.

“Of course she is,” Tasia said.  “I don’t know what I would do without Lady Mylla.”

“You’ll have to learn to live without her soon,” said Lord Galen, broad smile still firmly in place.  “Her first marriage proposal just came last fortnight.  And her first might very well be her last, if she’ll have the young man.”

Tasia’s own smile faltered.  “Is that so?  But Lady Mylla isn’t of marriageable age yet.”  Unable to stop herself, she added, “It seems somewhat inappropriate for some young lord to offer a proposal so soon.  Who is it?”

Lord Galen chuckled.  “So protective of your handmaid’s chastity,” he said, and Tasia couldn’t quite tell if his tone contained a hint of sarcasm.  “You shouldn’t worry.  They haven’t even met yet.”

“Who?” Tasia repeated, trying her best to feign polite and curious inquiry.

“Umfrey of House Farrimont.  I assume you know him, Princess?”

“Umfrey?” Tasia repeated, and now the smile faded from her face completely.  “But that’s my…”

“Your first cousin,” Lord Galen confirmed with a nod.  “Indeed.  A proposal from a house tied so closely to your own is quite a victory for House Harthing.  Between me and you, though,” he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially, “I think my daughter worries that she’s grown too accustomed to the capital’s warm climate.  I believe she’s thinking of rejecting the proposal simply on the basis that it will require her to move to the Northern mountains.”

Tasia regained control of the muscles around her mouth and forced her lips to smile again.  “I am sure Lady Mylla has greater wisdom than that.  A union between House Harthing and House Farrimont would be beneficial for both families.”

“Yes, I believe so.”  Lord Galen took Tasia’s hand again, raising it to his lips and kissing the seal of the House of Dorsa on her ring.  “Perhaps you convince her of that for me.”

“I will certainly try, my Lord,” Tasia said.

“Good day, Princess.”

She watched his receding back as he threaded through the crowd and out the door, her feet apparently unable to move from their spot.

Mylla.  Soon to be married.  Why had she not said anything?

A light touch on her elbow brought her mind back into the room.

“Princess?” Joslyn said softly in her ear.  “Shall we return to your chambers now?”

Tasia felt her head nodding.  “Yes.  Let’s.”