Page 119 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Who is stirring?”

The dragon closed her eyes and lowered her head back on to her neck. “Stay with me until sunrise, Tané.”

“Of course.”

Tané lay on her side. Nayimathun shifted closer and coiled around her.

“Sleep,” she said. “The stars will watch over us.”

Her body shut out the wind. As Tané drowsed against the dragon she had always dreamed about, lulled by her heartbeat, she had the curious sense that she was in the womb again.

She also had the sense that something was closing in on her. Like a net around a writhing fish.

26

West

News of the royal progress to Ascalon spread across Inys, from the Bay of the Balefire to the misty cliff-lined reaches of the Fells. After fourteen long years, Queen Sabran would show herself to the people of the capital, and the capital prepared to welcome her. Before Ead knew it, the day was upon them.

As she dressed, she concealed her blades. Two went beneath her skirts, another she tucked behind her stomacher, a fourth into one of her boots. The ornamental dagger carried by all Ladies of the Bedchamber was the only one she could display.

At five of the clock, she joined Katryen in the royal apartments and went with her to rouse Sabran and Roslain.

For her first public appearance since her coronation, the ladies-in-waiting had to make the queen more than beautiful. They had to make her divine. She was arrayed in midnight velvet, a girdle of carnelians, and a stole of bodmin fur, making her stand out against the bronze tinseled satin and brown furs around her. This way, she would invoke memories of Queen Rosarian, who had loved to wear blue.

A sword-shaped brooch was pinned to her bodice. She alone, in all Virtudom, took the Saint himself as her patron.

Roslain, whose hair was adorned with amber and cranberry glass, took charge of choosing the jewels. Ead picked up a comb. Holding Sabran by the shoulder, she grazed its teeth through the cascade of black hair until each lock glided between her fingers.

Sabran stood like a stanchion. Her eyes were raw with sleeplessness.

Ead gentled her brushing. Sabran tilted her head into her touch. With each stroke of the comb, her stance lost some of its tension, and the cast of her jaw softened. As she worked, Ead set her fingertips on the naked place behind Sabran’s ear, holding her still.

“You look very beautiful today, Ead,” Sabran said.

It was the first time she had spoken since rising.

“Your Majesty is kind to say so.” Ead teased at a stubborn knot. “Are you looking forward to your visit to the city?”

Sabran did not answer for some time. Ead kept combing.

“I look forward to seeing my people,” Sabran finally said. “My father always encouraged me to walk among them, but . . . I could not.”

She must be thinking of her mother. The reason she had seen little but the gleaming interiors of her palaces for fourteen years.

“I wish I could tell them I am with child.” She touched her jewel-encrusted stomacher. “The Royal Physician has advised me to wait until my daughter quickens.”

“What they desire is to seeyou. Whether your belly is big or not,” Ead said. “In any case, you will be able to tell them in a few weeks. And think how pleased they will be then.”

The queen studied her face. Then, quite unexpectedly, she took her by the hand.

“Tell me, Ead,” she said, “how is it you always know what to say to comfort me?”

Before Ead could answer, Roslain approached. Ead stepped away, and Sabran’s hand slipped from hers, but she still felt the ghost of it against her palm. Its fine-spun bones. The scallops of her knuckles.

Sabran let her ladies guide her to the washbasin. Katryen took charge of reddening her lips, while Ead braided six sections of her hair and wound them into a rosette at the back of her head, leaving the rest loose and waving. Last came a silver crown.

Once she was ready, the queen beheld herself in the glass. Roslain straightened the crown.

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