Page 16 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“It is true that we have a fondness for dancing pearls, and a dearth of them,” the queen said, “and we would accept this gladly. But to do so is not an acceptance of this suit.”

“Of course, Majesty. A gift from a friend in Virtudom, no more.”

“Very well.”

Sabran’s gaze flicked to Lady Roslain Crest, Chief Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber, who wore a gown of emerald silk and a partlet of white needle lace. Her brooch showed a pair of goblets, like anyone who took the Knight of Justice as their patron, but hers was gilded, showing that she was the blood of that knight. Roslain made a barely perceptible sign to one of the maids of honor, who hastened to take away the cushion.

“Although we are touched by his gift, your master should know of our disdain for the heretical practices of the Seiikinese,” Sabran said. “We desire no parlance with the East.”

“Of course,” Zeedeur said. “Even so, our master believes that the origin of the pearl does nothing to dull its beauty.”

“Perhaps your master is right.” Sabran settled back into her throne. “We hear His Royal Highness was training to be a sanctarian before he was High Prince of Mentendon. Tell us of his other . . . qualities.”

Titters.

“Prince Aubrecht is very clever and kind, madam, possessed of great political acumen,” Zeedeur said. “He is four and thirty, with hair of a softer red than mine. He plays the lute beautifully, and dances with great vigor.”

“With whom, we wonder?”

“Often with his noble sisters, Your Majesty. He has three: Princess Ermuna, Princess Bedona, and Princess Betriese. They are all eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Does he pray often?”

“Three times a day. He is devoted most of all to the Knight of Generosity, who is his patron.”

“Does your prince haveanyfaults, Oscarde?”

“Ah, Majesty, we mortals all have faults—except for you, of course. My master’s only flaw is that he tires himself with worry for his people.”

Sabran grew serious again.

“In that,” she said, “he is already one with us.”

Whispers spread through the chamber like fire.

“Our soul is touched. We will consider this suit from your master.” A smattering of tentative applause broke out. “Our Virtues Council will make arrangements to further this matter. Before that, however, we would be honored if you and your party would join us for a feast.”

Zeedeur swept into another bow. “The honor would be ours, Majesty.”

The court undulated with bows and curtsies. Sabran made her way down the steps, followed by her Ladies of the Bedchamber. The maids of honor walked in their wake.

Ead knew Sabran would never marry the Red Prince. This was her way. She strung her suitors along like fish on a line, accepting gifts and flattery, but never surrendered her hand.

As the courtiers dispersed, Ead left by another door with her fellow chamberers. Lady Linora Payling, blonde and rosy-cheeked, was one of the fourteen children of the Earl and Countess of Payling Hill. Her favorite pastime was dabbling in gossip. Ead found her a thorough vexation.

Lady Margret Beck, however, had been her dear friend for a long time now. She had joined the Upper Household three years ago and befriended Ead as quickly as her brother, Loth, who was six years her senior. Ead had soon discovered that she and Margret had the same sense of humor, knew from a look what the other was thinking, and shared the same opinions on most people at court.

“We must work fast today,” Margret said. “Sabran will expect us to show our faces at the feast.”

Margret looked so much like her brother, with her ebon skin and strong features. It had been a week since Loth had disappeared, and her eyelids were still swollen.

“A suit,” Linora said as they walked down the corridor, out of earshot of the rest of the court. “And from Prince Aubrecht! I had thought him far too devout to be wed.”

“No prince is too devout to marry the Queen of Inys,” Ead said. “It is she who is too devout to wed.”

“But the realmmusthave a princess.”

“Linora,” Margret said tightly, “a little temperance, if you please.”

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