Treacherous Witch

"To make a favourable first impression at court, one need only remember three simple rules. Be presentable, delicate, and unassuming in manner. Remember that a lord has many important matters on his mind; always let him speak first. Above all: smile, smile, smile!"

Lady Briony Bretton's Guide to Court Etiquette for Promising Young Ladies

She was glad to leave the chamber below the temple. The seal's power made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. What she hadn't reckoned on was how overwhelming the rest of the day would be.

First, there were the ladies of the court. As Lord Avon had instructed, Priska took her to meet them. The ladies were gathered by a lovely summer house in the walled garden, fanning themselves under their parasols. They stood up when she approached, and she had never seen smiles fade so fast, as if she carried a bad smell.

What had she done wrong?

"You must be Lady Valerie," one trilled. "Gosh, you're Maskamery? What a lovely surprise!"

Ah.

One of the five ladies was also Maskamery. Valerie gave her a desperate look in hope of solidarity, and she got what she thought was an acknowledging look back, but she'd have to confirm that later. She thought the other four were Drakonian until one proudly informed her that she was from Enyr. Valerie only knew of it from schoolbooks and Prince Bakra who had spent some of his time in exile there. This was going to be tough.

The first lady who had spoken introduced herself as Lady Melody, consort of Lord Gideon. She had dark hair, strong brows, and a beautiful liquid voice. Valerie wondered if her mother had predicted her singing ability when she named her. Lord Gideon though? Does she know what he does to his prisoners?

Next was Lady Rose, consort of Lord Merlon, the Treasurer, who possessed a joyful smile and the radiance of youth. Then Lady Mona of Enyr, consort of Lord Sandford, the Master of Foreign Affairs. Lady Amilia, consort of Lord Warren, Master of Home Affairs. And finally, her fellow Maskamery, Lady Flavia, consort of Lord Thorne, the palace's resident bishop. No family names given. Perhaps they didn't consider that important.

"Sit," Melody invited her.

She did so a little awkwardly, joining the ladies perched on the wooden benches arranged around the summer house.

"We've heard so much about you," said Rose, making her wonder how fast news had travelled when she had barely been here for a day, "you must tell us how much of it is true!"

"Well," she said, "what have you heard?"

"That you're a consort of Lord Avon," said Rose.

"I am."

Her cover story was already out there. All she had to do was go with it.

"I can't believe he finally chose a companion and you're Maskamery," said Amilia. "We've all been throwing ourselves at him for weeks."

"Oh..."

"No, it makes sense," said Mona, who seemed to be the oldest of the group and the most poised. "He wants to ingratiate himself with the locals. What better way to do that than have a Maskamery woman on his arm?"

"I heard that he asked to have breakfast with you alone this morning," said Rose. "He must be smitten—is that true?"

"Well, I heard that she's a criminal who agreed to come to court to repent," said Amilia, "is that true?"

"Amilia," Melody scolded her. "Don't ask such things."

Maska help me, she thought. These women were remarkably well-informed.

"Actually, Lord Avon asked me to meet with you so that you could help me learn about life at court," she said. "I don't really know how a Drakonian court works..."

She looked at Flavia as she said this, hoping for some sympathy. Melody noticed and shook her head.

"Oh, no, no, no, don't ask Flavia. She's new at this too, you'll be flailing around like two lost puppies. She was shocked to learn that two of us are married."

"You're what?"

Melody laughed, showing a silver ring on her finger. It's a marriage ring, Valerie thought. Then Lord Avon is married too?

"Amilia and I are army wives. I haven't seen my husband in six months. We Drakonian ladies have a saying: Only stupid women are only wives."

Valerie had no idea what any of this meant. "Is that unusual?"

"Maskamery don't marry," Flavia reminded the group. "The marriage rite is still new to us."

"Rite," Melody repeated, amused. "Of course. Never mind. Lord Avon chose you, and he has good judgement, so I assume you're more than just a pretty face. What can you do?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

She hoped her face wasn't going red. If she let slip her magic on her very first day at court, Lord Avon wouldn't be best pleased.

"Well, do you sing?" asked Melody. "Dance? Play an instrument?"

"No..."

"Gardening? Painting? I assume you're not a witty conversationalist judging by our talk so far."

Valerie blinked. If she hadn't been blushing before, she definitely was now.

"What did you do before you joined us, Valerie?" Mona asked. "Your family business?"

"I'm—I was a dressmaker."

"Sewing!" Melody clapped her hands. "Well, that's something. We can work with that."

"Actually," she said, finding her confidence again, "I made that dress you're wearing, Amilia."

Amilia looked down at her gown, a pale cream affair with delicate ribbing, a pink sash, and a subtle embroidery of pink roses and white lilies along the hem and sleeves.

"Oh!" she said. "Really? Gosh..."

"That's so exciting!" said Rose. "It's such a beautiful dress too. Do you know where it came from, Amilia?"

Amilia shook her head. "It was a gift from Lord Warren."

"That dress was made to order," said Valerie. "I worked on it for two months. It's hand-sewn, made to fit your exact specifications, and my own unique design. You won't find another one like it."

Amilia looked immensely pleased at this, which she had guessed would be the case. What she hadn't anticipated was the torrent of requests that then followed from each of the ladies who would love to get their own gowns made or perhaps altered, or perhaps a new necktie, and did she also make children's clothes...?

She held up her hand. "I'd love to continue my dressmaking here, but I don't have any of my tools..."

Her skills would be wasted on these ladies. Then again, trade was all about making alliances. If she ended up stuck here for a while, she ought to consider it.

"Oh," said Melody, "we're forgetting ourselves. Lord Avon asked us to help Valerie settle in. Shall I give you the tour?"

Melody rose, holding her hand out to Valerie, and she guessed this wasn't an offer she could refuse.

"Good," said Melody brightly. "Ladies, we'll see you at dinner."

The other ladies bid their farewells, and Melody took her arm with a firm grasp.

"I'll show you around the entire grounds and the palace," she said. "It's quite large but not so bad once you get to know a few shortcuts."

'Quite large' turned out to be an underestimation. There were over five hundred rooms in the palace, Melody was pleased to tell her, including accommodations for all the lords and ladies and their servants. She would see only a fraction of them. First the entrance hall, then the gallery, the ballroom, the library, various parlour rooms, a nod towards the residential quarters and the offices where the lords spent their hours during the day...

"And the kitchens?" she asked, thinking that at least she had seen part of the servants' quarters before.

Melody laughed. "The kitchens? Are you planning to cook?"

Lords and servants, Valerie reminded herself. The lords ran everything, the servants did everything, and as far as she could tell the ladies contributed nothing of value. They flitted around the grounds like a small flock of birds, pretty to look at but otherwise inconsequential.

"You asked about my sewing," said Valerie. "So it's fine for me to sew but not to cook?"

"Oh, you really don't know anything. Well, then..."

Melody sat her down in the parlour for what she called a luncheon of tea and tiny triangular sandwiches with the crusts cut off. There she patiently explained the basics of court etiquette, a baffling set of rules that seemed designed by a petulant tyrant.

"Why can't we look around ourselves?"

"It would be inappropriate."

"Why?"

"You'd be assumed to be sneaking off. Your virtue might come into question if you were discovered wandering around unaccompanied."

"Virtue? As in, moral character?"

"Darling, I know you have so many questions, but if you question everything we'll be here for hours..."

After that, she gave up trying to understand. She was a prisoner, and this place was designed to keep her trapped. That was explanation enough.

Finally, to her relief, Melody suggested that they go for a walk. Her pinched-in corset was starting to feel uncomfortable.

The late afternoon sun cast a golden light over the hedges as they strolled through the rose garden.

"It's prettier when the roses are in bloom," said Melody, "but still quite lovely, don't you think?"

It was. She fancied she could smell the rose petals, even while the plants weren't in bloom. They passed through an archway where the vines and thorns made for a prickly cover before crossing into the water garden.

"How long have you lived here?" Valerie asked.

"Almost two years now. I was one of the first to arrive with Gideon when the palace became ours."

Invaders, Valerie thought. The palace was never yours! But she controlled herself and said nothing.

"What do you think of Lord Avon?" Melody asked.

"I... barely know him. Is he married too?"

"I'm glad you asked. No, he was, but his wife passed away. I wouldn't advise you bring it up."

A sore subject? She filed that one away for later too. Anything that might hurt Avon was useful, even if the only damage it inflicted was emotional.

"Do you know why you're here, Valerie?"

She blinked, collecting herself. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Avon is the Emperor's son. He may be a little less attractive now he has a son of his own, but there are still many ladies who would be envious of your position. Why aren't you happier to be here?"

"I..." Melody really knew how to ask a question. She shook her head, swallowing. "Did you say Lord Avon has a son?"

Had she known this? She couldn't recall. It wasn't a relevant fact for a rebel group plotting to take down the foreign invader occupying their land. So, he'd had a wife and he had a son. All the makings of a happy Drakonian family.

"You didn't know?"

"I've never seen him."

"Well, of course you wouldn't, he's in Drakon. Lord Avon was planning to bring him over to visit, but that awful assassination attempt has set all our plans back. It's just not safe. Half the court has already gone. I hope it'll pick up in the summer, but there are only so many times I can wax lyrical about the balmy weather..."

"I hope it picks up too."

"No, you don't."

Valerie once again floundered for a response. Melody gave her a piercing stare.

"You're Maskamery," Melody said. "You hated every word I just said, didn't you?"

She felt like she was taking a test and failing. What was she supposed to say?

"Was Flavia like this too?"

"Sit."

Melody gestured at the grass beneath the shade of a willow tree. They'd reached the river—in fact, they were quite close to the place where she'd hidden in wait for Markus. Valerie sat down uncomfortably, not liking the grass tickling through her dress.

"I don't hate you," said Melody, "even if you hate me. It's my duty as a Drakonian to civilise the nations we take under our wing. The Maskamery court isn't going to survive without Maskamery ladies and gentlemen. Just tell me one thing. If you could go back to your family instead of starting a new life here, would you?"

Valerie was clutching some torn blades of grass so tightly her fingernails left marks in her palms.

"Yes," she said.

"I understand. Your choices were limited. I won't pry into why they were limited, but it does happen. The best piece of advice I can give you is that you have to find a way to accept that. You could have a nice life here, a good life. You'll want for nothing. But you won't enjoy any of it if you hold resentment in your heart."

Perhaps in other circumstances those might have been wise words. In her current circumstances, she begged to differ. Still...

She looked up at Melody. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Melody looked away. "Not exactly. That's a story for another time. Shall we get ready for dinner?"