Page 42 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Lady Arbella Glenn was still confined to bed. The court was alive with whispers. If she died, then a new Lady of the Bedchamber would be needed. The other Ladies of the Privy Chamber were already striving to showcase their wit and talent to Sabran.

No doubt it was why Linora had been so vexed when Ead had, in her eyes, botched the storytelling. She had not wanted her chances dented by association.

“Not in winter. In the summer, we wear loose silks to stave off the heat,” Ead answered. “When I lived in His Excellency’s estate in Rumelabar, I would often sit by the pool in the courtyard and read. There were sweetlemon trees to shade the walkways and fountains to cool the air. It was a peaceful time.”

In truth, she had only been there once. She had spent her childhood in the Priory.

“I see.” Sabran held an ornate fan. “And you would pray to the Dawnsinger.”

“Yes, madam. In a House of Silence.”

They wandered into one of the orchards, where the greengage trees were in full bloom. Twelve Knights of the Body followed at a distance.

Over the last few hours, Ead had discovered that beneath her all-knowing exterior, the Queen of Inys had a circumscribed view of the world. Sealed behind the walls of her palaces, her knowledge of the lands beyond Inys came from wooden globes and letters from her ambassadors and fellow sovereigns. She was fluent in Yscali and Hróthi, and her tutors had educated her in the history of Virtudom, but she knew little of anywhere else. Ead could sense that she was straining not to ask questions about the South.

The Ersyr did not adhere to the Six Virtues. Neither did its neighbor, the Domain of Lasia, despite its important place in the Inysh founding legend.

Ead had undergone her public conversion to the Six Virtues not long after she came to court. One spring evening, she had stood in the Sanctuary Royal, proclaimed her allegiance to the House of Berethnet, and received the spurs and girdle of a worshipper of Galian. In return, she was promised a place in Halgalant, the heavenly court. She had told the Arch Sanctarian that before her arrival in Inys, she had believed in the Dawnsinger, the most widely followed deity in the Ersyr. No one had ever questioned it.

Ead had never followed the Dawnsinger. Though she had Ersyri blood, she had not been born in the Ersyr and had not often set foot in it. Her true creed was known only to the Priory.

“His Excellency told me that your mother was not from the Ersyr,” Sabran said.

“No. She was born in Lasia.”

“What was her name?”

“Zala.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, madam,” Ead said. “It was a long time ago.”

No matter the differences between them, they both knew what it was to lose a mother.

As the clock tower struck eleven, Sabran stopped beside her private aviary. She unlatched the door, and a tiny green bird hopped onto her wrist.

“These birds are from the Uluma Mountains,” she said. Sunlight danced in the emeralds around her neck. “They often spend their winters there.”

“Have you ever been to Lasia, Majesty?” Ead asked.

“No. I could never leave Virtudom.”

Ead felt that familiar twist of irritation. It was hypocrisy at its finest for the Inysh to use Lasia as a cornerstone of their founding legend, only to deride its people as heretics.

“Of course,” she said.

Sabran glanced at her. She took a pouch from her girdle and poured a few seeds into her palm.

“In Inys, this bird is called the lovejay,” she said. The bird on her wrist gave a merry chirp. “They take only one partner all their lives, and will know their song even after many years apart. That is why the lovejay was sacred to the Knight of Fellowship. These birds embody his desire for every soul to be joined in companionship.”

“I know them well,” Ead said. The bird pecked up the seeds. “In the South, they are called peach-faced mimics.”

“Peach-faced.”

“A peach is a sweet orange fruit, madam, with a stone at its core. It grows in the Ersyr and some parts of the East.”

Sabran watched the bird eat. “Let us not speak of the East,” she said, and returned it to its perch.

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