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  “Rather great.”

  “Mine is greater.”

  “Ah.”

  Another pause. Una’s mind had reached a mental wall several sentences back, and was only just now getting up the speed to vault it. But instead of making a graceful leap, her mind crashed headfirst into the wall, scattering bricks and uttering one long, silent Nooooooo!

  Because she was a princess, however, her face remained serene.

  “Do, please, come to supper this evening, then, Prince Aethelbald,”

  King Fidel said. With these and a few more polite words, king and Prince made what arrangements were necessary. Then Fidel signaled his guard, bade his children mount their horses, and Una found herself riding back up the King’s Way in a numb daze.

  Felix urged his horse up beside hers. “Applebald!” he whispered.

  She took a swipe at him with her riding crop, not caring if the guardsmen thought her common.

  –––––––

  “I so dislike the name Aethelbald!”

  Nurse, busily tying Una’s hair into an awesome if precarious tower on top of her head, clucked without sympathy.

  A buzz of activity percolated through Oriana Palace as hasty preparations were made to feast the Prince of Farthestshore and his entourage, due to arrive at sundown. The best silver was polished, the chandelier was refitted with new candles, and even the great tapestry in the King’s Hall was taken out into the courtyard and beaten until the guardsmen standing at their posts were coughing and filmed over with dust. To crown it all, Princess Una had been stuffed into her best dress, a much-hated creation consisting of three layers of silk, two layers of chiffon, and wire structures beneath that made things stick out in odd but highly fashionable places. Then Nurse had sat Una down before her vanity, and the real work, the task of taming the princess’s flyaway hair, had begun.

  “I mean it!” Una said, shaking her head so that her hairstyle fell in a long flop down one side of her face. Nurse growled, cracked her knuckles, and firmly twisted her princess’s chin straight again. She set to with her brush more vigorously than ever.

  “It sounds stodgy,” Una said.

  “Stodgy, Miss Princess?” Nurse took a pin from between her teeth and rammed it into place with more force than efficiency.

  “You know.” Una frowned. “Pudgy and flat-footed. Heavy. Hard to digest.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Nurse plucked another pin from her mouth and took aim. “This Prince Aethel-whatsit. He’s stodgy, is he?”

  “Ow! Prince Aethelbald is nothing if not stodgy.”

  “Is he heavy?”

  “Well . . . no.”

  “Flat-footed?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Hard to digest?”

  “Stodginess is as much a state of mind as anything, Nurse.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see! Ouch. Are you trying to draw blood?” Una sighed as she watched Nurse in the mirror, fixing a twist of fake, honey-colored curl in place so that it dangled, as the Parumvir fashion experts put it, “fetchingly” down the side of her face. “Stodgy princes,” she said, “have no sense of romance. They sit around making practical decisions about economics and trade and things.”

  “Sounds worthy in a man who’ll one day rule a kingdom,” Nurse said, closing one eye as she inspected her work. Nurse was a practical woman to whom a romantic gesture equated picking up one’s own dirty socks and washing one’s hands before dinner. And while there was perhaps a certain romance in these, Una failed to appreciate it.

  “Stodgy princes,” Una said, pulling at the fake curl until it sprang back into place, “wouldn’t know the first thing about poetry and next to nothing about music.”

  “The poor souls.” Nurse selected a large white feather from an assortment of accessories, held it up for effect, and then tossed it aside in exchange for a larger purple one.

  “They wouldn’t recognize moonlight if it hit them between the eyes, and they never notice the stars.”

  “Blind too, eh?”

  Una slumped with her chin resting on her other hand, her eyes crossing to watch a spruff of feather gently wafting down to land on the vanity. Monster sprang into her lap, purring and flicking his tail under her nose. Absently, she ran her knuckles down his head and back. “Stodgy princes don’t stand under a lady’s window in the dusk of evening and sing songs about her virtues, comparing her beauty to summer days and their love to the high seas.”

  “I should hope not!” Nurse stuck in a final few pins, twisting them to be certain they held. “A real prince – stodgy, pudgy, or otherwise – wouldn’t be caught dead standing under a lady’s window after dark!” She sniffed. “And Aethelbald seems as good a name as any to me. Names are just as good as the folks what bear them. I had an Uncle Balbo who was teased like nothing else ’bout his name, yet he was the finest pig-keeper in all the country. Why, he had an old boar that weighed twice as much as I!”

  This was quite an accomplishment on Uncle Balbo’s part, for Nurse’s proportions were impressive. Nevertheless, her words did little to inspire Princess Una’s young mind. “Oh, Nurse! You are utterly lacking in romance!”

  “ ’Nough of that whining, Miss Princess,” Nurse said and, with surprising gentleness, patted the top of Una’s head. The gentleness was for the hairstyle rather than the girl, but Una tried to appreciate the gesture. “You’re as beautiful as Lady Gleamdren herself, and your flat-footed prince won’t fail to fall in love the moment he sets eyes on you.”

  “Meeeaaa!” Monster said.

  “Fall in love?” Una wrinkled her nose. The two feathers on either side of her head drooped like the ears of a hound dog. She pulled the fake curl one more time for good measure. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”

  “Now who’s lacking romance?”

  –––––––

  The sun set, burning red as a dragon’s eye before it disappeared behind the horizon and left the world in twilight.

  One by one, the vendors on the market lawn packed up their wares. The man with acorn-cap eyes placed lids on his great jars, muffling the songs of the unicorn young, and lifted them onto the rickety cart. With a “He-hey!” to his pig, they rattled across the flattened grass and disappeared into the shadows of the Wood. The woman with feathered hair folded her fabrics and glided away as gently as a leaf on the wind. Jugglers pocketed their balls and knives; dancers wound up their scarves like birds drawing in their wings.

  In a long, steady line, they streamed back into Goldstone Wood as quietly as they had come, until all that remained to give testimony to their presence were a few glowing baubles no bigger than marbles, a flower worked in silver that wilted and budded and bloomed again and again as you blinked, and other forgotten trinkets. A faint scent of roses lingered in one corner of the lawn. As the night deepened, even these disappeared, fading into memory as distant as the oldest myths.

  But the Prince of Farthestshore, followed by ugly Sir Oeric and two other tall knights, climbed the King’s Way to Oriana Palace, and the guards at Westgate trembled as they admitted him to Fidel’s household.

  3

  Fidel’s dining hall was older than the rest of Oriana Palace. It had been built in the days of King Abundiantus V many hundreds of years ago, in the old style with enormous doors opening to the east and to the west. In the middle of the hall, on a dais, stretched the long table of the king.

  The king himself sat in a gilded chair, his back to the north wall, upon which hung a fantastic tapestry of a maiden and a unicorn – which, incidentally, looked nothing like the unicorns seen in the market that morning, being rather more of the classical horse-and-horn nature.

  Felix, suffering agonies in a collar that stuck out like a peacock’s tail behind his head, sat at his father’s right hand. Una, hardly any happier, took a place on the other side of Felix, partly because precedent required it, partly because King Fidel expected her to keep her brother on his best behavior, an expectation Una found rather diffi
cult to bear at times.

  The elegant chair on the king’s left remained unoccupied. Once upon a time, Una’s mother had presided over all the great feasts of Par-umvir from that place; but that had been years ago now, and the seat had remained empty ever since the queen’s death. Una, when she took her place beside her brother – the wires supporting her petticoats creaking dangerously as she arranged them – allowed herself one forlorn hope that perhaps Prince Aethelbald, once he arrived, would be invited to sit on her father’s left side. It would, after all, be an honor suited to a prince of so purportedly great a kingdom.

  But no, the practical side of her insisted, that would be too much to hope. She was fated, she knew, to have him seated beside her for the entire evening. She eyed the empty place conveniently located on her right with a sigh that gently puffed one of her hair plumes.

  “Why the long face?” Felix asked with a smirk. Being stuffed into his best clothing always made him disagreeable, and Una chose to ignore him, expressing through straight shoulders and an icily set jaw an unwillingness to talk. But Felix wasn’t one to pick up on nonverbal signals. “Any suitor is better than no suitor at all, right?”

  “Felix,” Fidel said in a warning tone.

  The prince slouched into silence and pulled at his collar. Una took a moment to scan the assembly up and down the hall. Lower tables below the upraised one at which she sat were filled with all the various courtiers of Oriana Palace, the visiting nobles of Parumvir, barons and dukes and ladies of high rank, all the dignitaries and ambassadors from other kingdoms and provinces, from Milden and Beauclair and Shippening. Every one of them had come to welcome this prince from the Far World.

  And every one of them was watching her.

  She hated that.

  “Pssst!” Felix hissed and nudged her. She turned sharply and regretted it when the tower of her hair swayed threateningly. She put up a hand to steady it and glared at her brother. “What?”

  “You want to know something fishy about this lover of yours?”

  “No,” she said. “He’s not my lover.”

  “You’re not curious?”

  “Not in the least.”

  But she was, of course, so Felix went on. “People are saying he’s magical and has cast a spell on us all.” He looked smug even as he pulled at his collar. “What do you think of that?”

  Una frowned, her thoughts darting back to the man who had stood so quietly before her father. Of all the remarkable sights she had seen that day, Prince Aethelbald had surpassed them all simply by virtue of being so remarkably unremarkable. The notion of that soft-spoken gentleman casting spells on anybody was a stretch even Una’s limber imagination could not make.

  “Don’t be daft, Felix,” she said, turning up her nose. “I think if there’d been any spell casting done, I would have noticed.”

  Felix smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “And that’s not all.”

  Una maintained a cold silence for nearly three seconds before giving in. “All right, what else do you hear?”

  The prince leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Just look at the way he steps out of nowhere, declares himself a prince, and everyone believes it. He says, ‘I’m the Prince of Farthestshore,’ and we respond, ‘Oh, splendid, come to dinner!’ How can we know for sure that he is who he says he is? When have we ever heard from Farthestshore before, beyond nursery stories?”

  Una blinked. Felix had a point. Yet not once that afternoon when she had listed to herself all her reasons for disliking Prince Aethelbald – beginning with that name – had she considered the notion he might be untrustworthy. His face, plain as it was, just wasn’t a face one could mistrust. But she couldn’t explain this to Felix.

  “Well,” she said, “he did come out of the Wood. And we all of us saw those strange people down on the lawn, and we’ve never heard of them but from stories either.”

  “Did we actually see them?”

  “Of course we did! What nonsense are you talking?”

  “That’s just it, Una. Mightn’t it all have been an illusion? Something this so-called prince magicked to make us believe his story?” Felix nodded sagely. “I’m telling you, Una, your wooer is an enchanter, and much more dangerous than he looks.”

  Una rolled her eyes. “Since when were you gifted with all this insight?”

  “I’ve always been the bright one.”

  “Oh, is that – ”

  Her retort was cut off by the booming of the east doors opening. At the sound, all the assembly save for the king and his children rose, and a herald’s voice intoned: “Aethelbald, son of the High King of Farthestshore, Prince of the Haven Peoples.”

  Una, despite herself, craned her neck to see the Prince again. Felix’s talk, though she insisted to herself that it was all nonsense, excited her. After all, this man had come from the Wood, which was known to be enchanted – or at least mysterious, which is almost the same thing – and maybe there was some truth to this notion of his magical quality. If so, he could not help but be suddenly rendered in Una’s mind a far more romantic figure, and she wondered if perhaps her first impressions of him had been too hasty.

  Three men passed through the doors ahead of the Prince. First was Sir Oeric, resplendent in green and white, but terrible in his bulk and ugliness. Following him was another clad in similar garments, but this man was much smaller, with red-gold hair. Behind him came one whose black skin gleamed almost blue under the chandelier’s candles, and his eyes were like the sky on a summer day.

  After them came Prince Aethelbald.

  “Well,” Felix whispered, “maybe not so enchanting.”

  Una sighed and leaned back in her chair. Perhaps it wasn’t the Prince’s fault. Following three such splendid men as his knights, he could not help but seem narrow and pale and unprepossessing, despite his elegant clothes. Perhaps in a different context he would appear dashing and exciting and full of inner fire. To Una’s eye, however, he was stodginess personified.

  But what could one expect of a man named Aethelbald?

  The courtiers of Parumvir bounced their gazes back and forth between the Prince and Una. She wished they’d all go cross-eyed and stared down at her plate. From the corner of her eye, she saw Aethelbald approach and bow before the king.

  “Greetings, Prince of Farthestshore,” Fidel said, extending a gracious hand across the table. “You are welcome in my house. Do, please, bid your knights sit where there are places readied for them. And you yourself must sit at my table. There, beside my daughter.”

  Una closed her eyes. Yet another faint hope dashed.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Prince Aethelbald said and nothing more, which did not, Una decided, speak volumes in favor of his imagination. She refused to raise her gaze as he came around and took his place beside her, but instead made a detailed study of her fork.

  King Fidel clapped his hands, and musicians began to play while servers scurried about bearing their great silver platters. Una twisted the ring on her finger, sucked in her lips, and felt Prince Aethelbald’s gaze on the side of her face for what seemed like ages, though it was probably less than a minute.

  At last he said, “I trust that – ” just as she began, “I hope your – ”

  They both stopped, and Una darted a glance his way. He was smiling, which irritated her. “Please continue,” he said.

  “I . . . I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.” Bother those red blotches! She could feel them creeping forward, but she set her chin, hoping to force them back.

  “Then allow me to inquire,” said the Prince, “after your hands.”

  Her hands? The red blotches burst forth in full glory, and no amount of chin setting could drive them back. Was this some awkward form of proposal? Was Nurse right and he’d already fallen in love with her? Despite the feathers?

  She glanced at him again, hoping the droop of the purple plume would hide most of her reddening face. “Sir?”

  Aethelbald was smiling still,
but his eyes were serious. He reached out and touched one of her hands, which was resting just beside her fork. She removed it hastily, wondering how many eagle-eyed ladies of the court had spotted the gesture, and folded both hands tightly in her lap.

  “I believed you burned them earlier today,” Aethelbald said in an even quieter voice, drawing back his own hand as well.

  “Burned?” Una frowned down at her lap. When she said the word, a brief memory shot across her mind’s eye, a memory of heat and the scent of roses. But, now that she put her mind to it, she couldn’t quite say where that memory had come from. Was it something she’d seen? She opened her hands and looked at them but could discern no trace of a burn. “You are mistaken, sir,” she said.

  He did not reply, and when she dared raise her eyes to his face once more, he was no longer smiling but earnestly studying her. Heaven help her, this was going to be a long dinner!

  Felix, on her other side, had placed his elbow on the table and leaned in to hear their conversation. She forced herself not to pinch him; he knew it and grinned from ear to ear. Desperate to break the silence, she managed a brave, “Are you intending to stay long in Parumvir?”

  “A very long time,” Felix said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you!”

  “Oops.”

  Aethelbald smiled again, and Una wished she could take both the plumes from her hair, flap them hard, and fly away. But the Prince of Farthestshore only said, “I do not yet know how long I shall enjoy your father’s hospitality.” He took a sip from his goblet, then, setting it back down, added, “That depends on many things.”

  Felix snorted. Before Una had a chance to jab her elbow between her brother’s ribs, in a voice that carried across the room, he piped up, “What, pray tell, brings you to Parumvir this fine spring, Prince Aethelbald? Did I understand you’ve come to pay your respects?”

  Una’s eyes widened. Felix! she screamed inside but kept her mouth shut in a tight line.

  “To my sister, yes?”

  The court murmured. From his place beside Felix, King Fidel cleared his throat meaningfully. But Prince Aethelbald sat a moment, contemplating his goblet. “None here need pretend ignorance of my purpose,” he said in his quiet but authoritative voice. “I, for one, am not ashamed to announce it.”