“It’s a start.”
“A start.” Dauneth sounded somewhat dazed. He plucked at the fabric of her woolen traveling frock. “If I am being honest, would you also like me to tell you that gray really isn’t your color?”
Tanalasta swatted his hand away. “I said honest, not brash!” she chuckled. “After all, I am still a princess, and I expect to be courted.”
2
Tanalasta bustled down the Family Hall of House Marliir, one hand tugging at her gown’s brandelle straps, the other holding her skirts off the floor. The corridor seemed a mile long, with an endless procession of white pillars supporting its corbeled arches and a hundred oaken doors lining its walls. On the way down from High Heath, she had stopped so often to restore blighted fields that the journey had taken an extra day, and she had arrived just that morning to discover that the ball gown she’d had sent up from Suzail was a size too large. There had been no chance to see to her father’s birthday gift. She could only trust that Harvestmaster Foley had been able to arrange things on his own.
At last, Tanalasta came to a door with two Purple Dragon guards standing outside. They snapped to attention, clicking their feet and bringing their halberds to their shoulders. Tanalasta stopped and raised her arms over her head.
“Anything out of place, gentlemen?” she asked, executing a slow twirl. “Loose threads, anything showing that shouldn’t?”
The guards glanced at each other nervously and said nothing.
“What’s wrong?” Tanalasta looked down. The gown was an amethyst silk with a tapered bodice and a scooped neckline, and she could imagine something peeking out that a modest princess would prefer to keep hidden. “Tell me.”
The youngest guard extended his arm, shifting his halberd to the stand ready position. “Nothing’s wrong, Princess.” The glimmer of a smile flashed across his lips. “You look… well, stunning. I’d be careful about, showing up the queen.”
Tanalasta’s jaw went slack. “What?”
The older guard shifted his halberd to the stand ready, then stammered, “B-beg your pardon, princess. Lundan meant no offense. It’s just that we haven’t seen you in Suzail for quite some time, and a lot has, er, changed.”
“Truly?” Tanalasta broke into a broad smile, then kissed both men on their cheeks. “Chauntea bless you!”
She pulled the ribbon from her brown hair, setting her long tresses free to cascade down her back, then nodded.
The dazed guards opened the drawing room door, and she entered the chamber to find Dauneth Marliir standing at the marble fireplace with her father and Vangerdahast. The three men were deep in conversation, each sipping a glass of spirits and chuckling quietly at some joke that Tanalasta hoped did not concern her tardiness. Surprisingly, Vangerdahast had made a special effort to dress for the occasion. He had combed his long beard into a snowy white mass, and his ample girth was cloaked in an indigo robe with yellow comets’ that actually seemed to streak across the silk. Dauneth wore a gold-trimmed doublet that was a perfect complement to Tanalasta’s amethyst gown-a coincidence she felt certain had not been left to chance. King Azoun wore a linen tunic and velvet cape in the Royal Purple, with Symylazarr the royal Sword of Honor, hanging in its bejeweled scabbard at his side. With stony features and piercing brown eyes, her father looked as handsome as ever-even if the royal beard had a few more gray streaks than a year ago.
“By the Morninglord!” The gasp came not from the fireplace, but from the wall left of the door. “Can that be my Tanalasta?”
The princess turned to see her mother rising from an elegant chair with gold-leafed spindles. Despite the guard’s warning, Tanalasta saw at once that she did not need to worry about upstaging the queen. Wearing a simple violet dress that only served to emphasize her exquisite carriage, Filfaeril was as stunning as ever. With ice-blue eyes, alabaster skin, and hair the color of honey, she always seemed to be the most beautiful woman in the room, even when she was not trying-and today she was trying.
The queen took Tanalasta by the shoulders and studied her. “The mountains agree with you, my dear. Dauneth said you had changed-but he didn’t say how much!”
The princess feigned disappointment. “No? And I had so hoped to smite him with my dusty traveling clothes.” Tanalasta hugged her mother, then whispered, “And speaking of the good warden-what is he doing here? I thought only the family was to gather in the drawing room.”
“Vangerdahast’s idea, I’m afraid.” The queen’s whisper was sympathetic, but she stepped back with a cocked brow. “Is that a problem?”
Tanalasta sighed. “Not really-but I had hoped to have a few words with you and the king. There’s something I must tell-“
“Princess, you look absolutely bewitching!”
Tanalasta looked up to see Dauneth leading her father and Vangerdahast away from the fireplace. Giving up any hope of a private moment, she smiled and presented her hand.
“Thank you, Dauneth, but what did we say about my name?”
The warden blushed and kissed her band. “Forgive me, Tanalasta.”
The approving glances that shot between Vangerdahast and Azoun did not escape Tanalasta’s notice.
She curtsied to her father and said, “I apologize for being tardy, but we made a rather alarming discovery on the way from Huthduth.”
“Yes, yes, Dauneth has told me all about the blighted fields.” Azoun took his daughter’s hand, then gave her a gently reproachful smile. “A princess really shouldn’t trouble herself with such things. That’s why we have wizards, you know.”
“Oh?” Tanalasta looked to Vangerdahast, who was eyeing her up and down, appraising her as a man might a horse. “The royal magician has determined the nature of the problem?”
“The royal magician has more important things to do than watch barley grow,” Vangerdahast replied, “but Merula the Marvelous has assured me that this ‘blight’ is not serious-certainly no reason to keep the king waiting.”
“Merula? What does that wand waver know about farming?” Despite her tone, Tanalasta was secretly relieved. Had the royal magician already discovered the nature of the problem, the value of her gift would have been less apparent. She smiled at her father. “If you want to know what’s happening, you must ask Harvestinaster Foley-“
“As I certainly will,” Azoun interrupted, “if you will be good enough to introduce us-after the party.”
“Of course,” Tanalasta said, secretly delighted. Even for her, it was not easy to arrange an introduction without first winning the consent of the royal magician, and the king’s willingness to meet Owden Foley without Vangerdahast’s approval bode well for her gift.
“I doubt the blight will overrun Cormyr during the celebration,” she conceded. “I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”
The king’s smile broadened. “Are we running late? I really hadn’t noticed-and even if I had, the wait was well worth it.” He turned to Vangerdahast, “Don’t you think so, old wizard?”
The royal magician regarded Tanalasta sourly, then said, “She has lost weight, though I don’t find it healthy for a woman to be so bony especially not at Tanalasta’s age.”
Filfaeril slapped the wizard’s shoulder. “Vangerdahast! Tanalasta was hardly large when she left.”
“There’s no need to defend me, Mother,” Tanalasta said. She forced a smile and patted the wizard lightly on his ample belly. “Vangey and I understand each other, don’t we, Your Portliness?”
Vangerdahast eyes widened. “I see you have gained in cheek what you have lost from other places. If you will excuse me, I have an important matter to attend to.”
The wizard retreated across the room to sprawl on a burgundy settee, where he put his head back and closed his eyes. Filfaeril smiled approvingly, but the expression on Azoun’s face was more pained.
“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize him, Tanalasta. He is going to be your-“
“My Royal Magician
I know.” Tanalasta took a deep breath, then launched into a prepared response. “While it would behoove us all to remember that it is the magician who serves the crown and not the reverse, there is no need to lecture me on Vangerdahast’s virtues. My regard for him is as deep as your own-even if I no longer choose to quietly abide his slights.”