“A fair afternoon to you,” he said, arresting their motion to rise with the tiniest movement of his hand. “How may I assist?”
Princess Leodhild briefly explained, and carefully handed the puppy over. Falinis again raised his head, making Eluned feel as if the puppy had understood every word said, and was politely making eye contact.
“By no means an ordinary animal,” Prince Jiang said. “But not on first examination inimical. Instead, this seems to be a true gift, a valuable companion. You wish for him, then, child?”
“Very much, Father.” Princess Celestine’s response was restrained and measured, all sign of her previous restlessness smoothed away. “There are strings, I am sure, or at least mischief intended. But I will not hold his marking against him.” She hesitated, and her careful formality fell away as she exclaimed: “It would hurt him.”
“Then I have no objection,” Prince Jiang said, and smiled at the effervescent delight his daughter attempted to contain, before inclining his head again to Princess Leodhild. “Forgive me, I must return. My staff are enjoying a minor crisis.”
With the ceremony that seemed imbued in his every action, Prince Jiang handed Falinis to his daughter and departed. The blue and white triskelion ceased whirling around the ceiling of the pavilion and dropped down to I‑i‑EE? at its mistress. It was joined by its red and gold companion, whirling up with an O‑o‑O! that by its very tone announced success.
Eluned’s relief as she looked around for her brother faltered immediately when she spotted him on the path to the tower belonging to the Sulevia Sceadu, talking animatedly to a striking woman with pale skin and wavy dark hair. It could only be Crown Princess Aerinndís.
Working to hide her dismay, Eluned glanced at Eleri, but her sister hadn’t yet noticed the approaching pair. Princess Aerinndís had a forbidding reputation, and was not smiling as she listened to Griff burble on—no doubt telling her all about her own tower, and the unusual gaps left in a structure that looked as if it had been braided rather than built.
Aunt Arianne stood up, and Eluned surreptitiously tugged Eleri to join them in making their bows. Princess Leodhild may have abandoned formality, but Princess Aerinndís did not seem so disposed, studying them expressionlessly before inclining her head a bare fraction in acknowledgement.
“My apologies, Highness,” Aunt Arianne said, after Princess Leodhild had made brief introductions. “I was not paying enough attention.”
“No matter.” Princess Aerinndís’ husky voice held a note of indifference. “Our mutual acquaintance has presented himself for a conference.”
“Comfrey’s here?” Princess Iona was not at all awed by her older cousin’s glance. “Can you send him to us when you’re finished with him? Tete wants him.”
Tete—Princess Tethané—hadn’t spoken at all. She was Griff’s age, and was considered a not very ‘satisfactory’ princess. Rumour had it she couldn’t talk at all, and had to be carefully controlled, but all Eluned could tell of her beneath the floppy yellow sun hat hanging over her eyes was that her hair was cloudy like Melly’s.
“Perhaps you younglings would enjoy a small performance while we see what Comfrey has to say?” Princess Leodhild asked, then added to Griff: “Or would you find that uncomfortable?”
Griff, who had been subdued once again by the near presence of a chancy animal, looked from puppy to the triskelion whirring above, and fascination won over caution. “I’d like that awfully much, thank you.”
They were being tidied away, but Eluned was no more minded to object to the distraction than Griff. Though she could not understand Eleri following along without a word as Princess Iona led them toward the Sulevia Leoth’s residence, the two triskelion in warm escort, Princess Celestine dancing ahead, hugging her puppy close, and Prince Luc and Princess Tethané bringing up the rear.
“Sorry,” Eluned said, stepping uncomfortably into the role of spokesperson as Griff positioned himself by her side to watch for puppy attacks. “We’re interrupting you now.”
“No, this is perfect,” Princess Iona said. “We were due to go to afternoon lessons, and that tutor is so dreary. Your arm looks very complicated. What can you do with it?”
Prince Luc said quietly: “Not a performing animal, Io.”
Princess Iona pulled a face at her brother, then said:
“My mouth does run along by itself sometimes, and I say positively awful things. Then Luc points it out to me. Was I being obnoxious?”
“It’s all right,” Eluned said, glancing worriedly at her sister, since it was rare for Eleri not to intervene during such questions. That was how their family worked: Eluned and Eleri would shield Griff from animals, Eleri and Griff would deflect noxious curiosity, and Griff and Eluned would keep Eleri from killing herself during her inventive streaks, when common sense tended to desert her.
It had to be the plans for that flier: Eleri’s imagination had been sparked, and she was lost to anything but possibility. Reluctantly accepting that she was on her own so far as conversation was concerned, Eluned offered a brief demonstration of how she could control her right elbow by lifting her shoulder, and could trigger her hand functions with her left elbow, using switches on the harness beneath her clothing.
“But what happens when you shrug?”
“Embarrassment, usually. I try to only use my left shoulder for that, or I get some odd flailings.”
“Is it strong? Can you bend metal? Stop a rampaging horse?”
“The mechanism’s too delicate. And it’s still attached to the non-mechanical bits of me, which would not stop any horses.”
“How did you lose your arm?” Princess Celestine asked, drifting closer. “A birth injury?”
People rarely asked directly. These children of the Suleviae were clearly used to people competing for their attention, willing to tell them anything. Their curiosity at least seemed straightforward, not weighed down by globbish pity, but this was a story that Eluned hated to tell. And yet Eleri was still silent, not even noticing when Eluned threw her an urgent glance. There was nothing for it.
With a firm grip on her glass shield, she began: “There was a kitten.”
“One of the folies?” Prince Luc asked unexpectedly.
“The folies?” Eluned turned to stare. “What do you mean?”
“The guardians of the Deep Grove. Foliate cats.”
Griff roused to say: “Those are cats? They look like little round bushes.”
“That’s what the records say.”
“Little round bushes with cats inside, it seems,” Princess Iona said. “But if Dama Seaforth’s family has only recently come to Forest House, it’s not likely to be folies. And you tut at me for interrupting people unnecessarily, Luc. So there was a kitten. And then?”
The idea of those clusters of leaves being cats was not enough to distract Eluned from the difficulty of her story, but it did make the shield a little lighter, and so she went on, pacing her breathing.
“We weren’t allowed to keep him, but did. We called him Jasper, and we had him for two months without our parents ever realising. But he hated being shut up, and loved exploring, climbing, and one day he climbed through the ventilation window of the main workroom. I saw him go in, but the door was locked and the red flag up, which meant there was a timing test running. I could hear the machine.”