So I couldn’t risk any agreement with him. I must retain my anonymity when I attacked. He couldn’t know I had anything to do with the renegades.
CHAPTER 15
Morning came and sunlight slithered its way past the drapes. I would’ve gladly slept in and missed breakfast, but Gwenyth insisted on rousing me when the morning bells chimed. She reminded me I should draw no untoward attention to myself and missing an opportunity to fraternize with eligible gentlemen might cause some to wonder about my purpose at court. So, I let her dress me in my yellow gown and weave ribbons into my hair.
At breakfast, Lady Edith and I sat at the same table with Lord Percy and the Godfreys. Neither the king nor the future queen was in attendance. Perhaps they were already at the town’s cathedral rehearsing their nuptial speeches. I pretended an appetite and ate lemon-glazed salmon and apples cooked with cinnamon. I had no enthusiasm for the food. It all tasted of dread. Besides, I was afraid of spilling something on my gown and having to sit through the wedding with stains marring my dignity.
Madame Godfrey and her daughter ate with practiced gusto. They were beside themselves with eagerness for the day’s event and went to great lengths to predict the details of Queen Marita’s wedding gown.
While Lord Percy and the men escaped into a conversation about hunting wild boars, Madame Godfrey informed me that whatever the queen donned would set the style for the upcoming year. Madame Godfrey rather lorded her knowledge of slitted sleeves, brocade patterns, and pearl buttons over the rest of us. Agnes hoped fervently the new queen would follow the styles of the Illanté nobility. They had such fine fashion there. She and her family traveled to that country frequently to avoid the winter chill of our own kingdom.
Perhaps it was childish of me, but after half an hour of this, I said, “I think a blue gown, perhaps trimmed in fur, would make a lovely wedding dress.”
“Fur in the summer?” Madame Godfrey wrinkled her nose as though I’d suggested something sinful. “No, it must be lace.”
“And the gown must be purple,” Agnes insisted, “or in the very least red. What backward ideas about fashion you have in Paxworth.”
Lady Edith glanced at me, checking to make sure I’d seen the gown, then she smiled patronizingly at the women. “It’s true that noblewomen do have different taste in gowns than others. Part of our breeding, you know. I think a gown of blue trimmed in fur would befit the queen quite well.”
Madame Godfrey harumphed in indignation. “Perhaps her ladyship’s taste in fashion would change if she traveled more.”
Impertinent. If I’d been hunting for a husband, I would reject the younger Master Godfrey on her account alone. What a wretched mother-in-law she would be.
This morning, Ronan and the other four wizards of the king’s council were easy to spot eating at the important nobles’ tables. They dressed in red velvet robes with gold embroidered stars over white and blue striped tunics, symbolizing the union of the two countries. I couldn’t help but notice how much younger and taller Ronan was than the others. He was more handsome too,with his square jaw and his forget-me-not blue eyes. He shone like a knight from some legend while the rest of them, for all their proud airs, seemed like faded old men.
I asked Lord Percy who the men in the red robes were, and he told me each’s name. Telarian was squat with a protruding stomach and arms as thick as a blacksmith. Perhaps it was the weight of his jowls, but his mouth appeared to permanently frown. Sciatheric was taller, with small, shifting eyes and a bushy black beard that rested against his chest. Mage Zephyr was a spindly man with a large nose and thinning brown hair that peeked out of his hat. Redboot was there as well, eating his food with gusto. I could now put names to my quarries’ faces.
They might do very well as regular folk. They all looked capable enough of finding some sort of gainful employment.
“If you have need of a wizard’s assistance,” Lord Percy said, “Mage Redboot is always eager to help the young women at court.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice “Perhaps at times too eager.”
“I shall do my best to avoid him.”
“I’d avoid Sciatheric as well.”
The wizard council, it seemed, had more than its share of knaves. “What else do you know of them?”
Lord Percy shrugged. “Only what is commonly known. Mage Zephyr considers himself the wisest, though the others dispute that claim. Sciatheric is the wealthiest, or at least the showiest. He wears ruby and emerald rings and is never without his diamond-studded moon pendant. When the king isn’t present, Mage Sciatheric and Mage Telarian can’t say a civil word to each other, and the older mages fault Warison for being so much younger than they.” Lord Percy winked at me. “I only fault him for being handsome enough to steal women’s attention away from me. Tell me you haven’t fallen under his spell as well.”
“I assure you I have not.” And to prove it, I wouldn’t let myself look at him for the rest of the meal.
Once we’d all eaten, it was time to make the exodus to the town’s cathedral so we could be in our places for the royal wedding. We of the lower tables were called to our carriages first. I was surprised at this preference until we got to the cathedral, and I realized it was our lot to stand at the back and wait—captive spectators—while the more important nobles arrived. They paraded down the aisle in their finery and took their spots in front of us.
No chairs or benches lined the nave. We would all be required to stand for the ceremony, and those of us with lesser rank at court would stand the longest. Lady Edith and I ended up situated close to the side wall next to graves and statues of past cathedral patrons. I could barely see anything save the stone columns and arches stretching above us—and of course, the elaborate headdresses of the women in front of us.
I no longer wondered why Lady Edith didn’t make the effort to come to court more often. Why come here to be snubbed when she could stay in Paxworth and be treated with respect by all the villagers?
The choir sang, their voices echoing through the cathedral, resolute and achingly beautiful. That was lovely, at least.
By the time King Leofric and Princess Marita arrived, my feet were tired. All of us bowed and curtsied. The rustle of fabric seemed as loud as the ocean. We had to hold this bent position for so long while they strolled to the altar, I feared I would topple into the people in front of me.
I caught only a glimpse of the royal couple as they passed our row—a flash of fine robes, his red and hers blue with white fur trim.
Finally, we were able to stand again. A hush descended on the cathedral and the bishop, somewhere in front of the crowd,began the ceremony. His booming voice spoke of loyalty, peace, and the prosperity the union would bring to our country. He also declared that the king would trample his enemies under his feet and the jaws of hell would open to receive any who opposed him. I winced at that. The bishop was referring to me. I wished Alaric and Gwenyth stood with me for support, but servants weren’t allowed inside. Only I heard the pronouncement of our doom.
When the king and queen had spoken their vows, they turned to glide down the aisle and out of the cathedral. Again we bowed, bending like colorful stalks of wheat in a strong wind.
This time, I saw the king’s face as he passed. He was tall with smooth brown hair tucked under his crown and a neatly trimmed beard. He had a pleasant, fatherly face that closely resembled his portraits. The exactness surprised me. Most nobles paid their artists to paint them younger and fairer than they really were. The only difference I noticed in King Leofric was that he looked wearier than the man whose face graced portraits all over the castle.