“It’s political. The grefts of Dunmrogh have Reiksbaurg blood.”
“So? Our war with the Reiksbaurgs was over a hundred years ago.”
“Ah, to be young and naïve again. Turn, so I can get your face, dear. Enny, the war with the Reiksbaurgs will never be over. They covet the throne a thousand covetings for every year that has passed since they lost it.”
“But Roderick isn’t a Reiksbaurg.”
“No, Enny,” she went on, wiping the cool rag on Anne’s face and neck, “but fifty years ago the Dunmroghs sided with a Reiksbaurg claimant to the throne. Not with arms, so they kept their lands when it was all over—but support him they did, in the Comven. They still have a bad name for that.”
“It isn’t fair.”
“I know it’s not, sweet, but we’d better talk about it later. Change that shirt and put on your gown.”
Anne ran to her wardrobe and changed the sodden linen for a dry one. “When did you learn so much about politics?” she asked, shrugging back into her embroidered nightgown.
“I just spent two years in Virgenya. It’s all they talk about, down there.”
“It must have been terribly boring.”
“Oh—you might be surprised.”
Anne sat on the edge of her bed. “You won’t tell anyone about Roderick? Even if it is political?”
Lesbeth laughed and kissed her on the forehead, then knelt and took her hand. “I doubt very much it’s political for him. He’s probably just young and foolish, like you.”
“He’s your age, nineteen.”
“I’m twenty, meadowlark.” She brushed a curly strand from out of Anne’s face. “And when your sister comes in, try to keep the left side of your head away from her.”
“Why?”
“You have a love bite, there, just below your ear. I think even Fastia will know what it is.”
“Oh, mercifu—”
“I’ll comb your hair, like I was doing when the duchess came in,” Austra volunteered. “I can keep it pulled long over that spot.”
“That’s a good plan,” Lesbeth approved. She chuckled again. “When did this happen to our little lark, Austra? When last I saw her she was still dressing up in the stablejack’s clothes so she wouldn’t have to ride sidesaddle. When did she become such a lady?”
“I still ride,” Anne said defensively.
“That’s true enough,” Austra said. “That’s how she met this fellow. He followed her down the Snake.”
“Not fainthearted, then.”
“Roderick is anything but fainthearted,” Anne said. “So what’s your big secret, Lez?”
Lesbeth smiled. “I’ve already asked your father’s permission, so I suppose I’ll tell you. I’m getting married.”
“Married?” Anne and Austra said, in unison.
“Yes.” Lesbeth frowned. “I didn’t like the sound of that! You seem incredulous.”
“It’s just—at your age—”
“Oh, I see. You had me reckoned a spinster. Well, I had plenty of sisters, and they all married well. I was the youngest so I got to do something they didn’t. I got to be choosy.”
“So who is he?”
“A wonderful man, daring and kind. Like your Roderick, far from fainthearted. He has the most elegant castle, and an estate that stretches—”
“Who?”
“Prince Cheiso of Safnia.”
“Safnia?” Anne repeated.
“Where is Safnia?” Austra asked.
“On the shore of the southern sea,” Lesbeth said dreamily. “Where oranges and lemons grow outdoors, and bright birds sing.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Not surprising, if you pay no more attention to your tutors now than you did when I still lived here.”
“You love him, don’t you?” Anne asked.
“Indeed I do. With all of my heart.”
“So it’s not political?”
Lesbeth laughed again. “Everything is political, meadowlark. It’s not like I could have married a cowherd, you know. Safnia, though you ladies have never heard of it, is a rather important place.”
“But you’re marrying for love!”
“Yes.” She wiggled a finger at Anne. “But don’t let that put foolish ideas in your head. Live in the kingdom that is, not the one that ought to be.”
“Well,” a somewhat frosty voice said, as the curtain to the antechamber parted again. “That’s better advice than I expected you to be giving her, Lesbeth.”
“Hello, Fastia.”
Fastia was older than all of them, almost twenty-three. Her hair was umber silk, now bound up in a net, and her small features were perfect and demure. She was no taller than Anne or Austra, and a handswidth shorter than Lesbeth. But she commanded presence.
“Dear Fastia,” Lesbeth said. “I was just telling darling Anne my news.”
“About your betrothal, I suppose?”
“You already know? But I only just asked my brother Wil-liam’s permission a few bells ago.”
“You forget how fast news travels in Eslen, I’m afraid. Congratulations. You’ll find marriage a joy, I think.”
Her tone said otherwise, somehow. Anne felt a faint pang of pity for her older sister.
“I think I shall,” Lesbeth replied.
“Well,” Fastia asked, “is all in order here? Have you girls said your prayers and washed your faces?”
“They were praying, I believe, even as I entered the room,” Lesbeth said innocently.
Anne nodded. “We’re all but asleep,” she added.
“You don’t look sleepy.”
“It’s the excitement of seeing Lesbeth. She was telling us all about Shanifar, where her betrothed rules. A delightful-sounding place—”
“Safnia,” Fastia corrected. “One of the original five provinces of the Hegemony. That was over a thousand years ago, of course. A great place once, and still quaint from what I hear.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Lesbeth said, as if she hadn’t heard the condescension in Fastia’s tone. “It’s very quaint.”
“I think it sounds wonderful and exotic,” Anne put in.
“Most places do, until you’ve been to them,” Fastia replied. “Now. I don’t want to be the troll, but somehow the duty has fallen to me to make sure these girls get to bed. Lesbeth, may I entice you into taking a cordial?”
Hah, Anne thought. You can’t fool me. You love playing the troll. What happened to you? “Surely we can stay up a bit. We haven’t seen Lesbeth in two years.”
“Plenty of time for that tomorrow, at Elseny’s party. It’s time for the women to chat.”
“We are women,” Anne retorted.
“When you are betrothed, then you’ll be a woman,” Fastia replied. “Now, good night. Or, as Lesbeth’s Safnian prince might say, dena nocha. Austra, see that you are both asleep within the hour.”
“Yes, Archgreffess.”
“Night, loves,” Lesbeth said, blowing them a kiss as the two passed through the curtain into the antechamber. After another moment, they heard the outer door close.
“Why does she have to be like that?” Anne muttered.
“If she weren’t, your mother would find someone who was,” Austra replied.
“I suppose. It just galls me.”
“In fact,” Austra said, “I’m something glad they’re gone.”
“Why is that?”
A pillow hit Anne in the face.
“Because you haven’t told me what happened yet, you jade!”
“Oh! Austra, it was quite extraordinary. He was so—I mean, I thought I would catch afire! And he gave me a rose, a black rose—” She broke off abruptly. “Where’s my rose?”
“You had it when we came in the room.”
“Well, I don’t have it now! I must press it, or whatever one does with roses …”
“I think one finds them first,” Austra said.
But it wasn’t in the receiving room, nor on the floor, nor under the bed. They couldn’t find it anywhere.