CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I think not," said a girl, laughing. She lounged back in a peach silk gown and trailed her fingers in the fountain. "If one is to capture the essence of summer… Well, a minor key? Really!"

"But that's just the thing," said a boy beside her. He had a studious face, with dark eyes and a normally withdrawn expression that had come alive with the conversation. "The subtlety is brilliant."

"It's too obvious," she said, shaking her head. "If he's truly after subtlety he'll stick a key change, or have a couple of flats or something. Putting the entire piece in a minor is so sneaky it's plain. The piece will become art for the sake of art and all true expression will be lost."

I followed the conversation in silence. I had no idea what they were talking about, beyond the fact that it involved some great new piece one of the court composers was writing. It was supposed to be an ode to a Merlan summer or something saccharine like that. Everyone but me seemed to know what was going on. They all knew things about music and composition; I knew a couple of chorus lyrics to overplayed Kelly Clarkson songs --- but then, how hard was that? --- and could hack out a few Broadway tunes. Yeah. Sad.

I left as soon as I could find a reasonably polite excuse to do so. These people were nice, and I wished I could talk to them on some sort of equal level, but I had all the advantage of rank on my side and they all the advantage of intelligence and experience. As far as I was concerned, that put me way on the bottom of the totem pole. The maids were better companions. Admittedly, they too had all the advantage of intelligence and experience, but they didn't expect me to match them. We all knew I had no idea what I was doing.

"Your overskirt is on backwards," one of them informed me cheerfully as I entered the kitchen. "It's not supposed to be an apron, it's supposed to show off the flounces in the front."

"Great. Why did no one tell me?"

"Well, no one would notice, would they? You're the princess. Your lady-in-waiting probably forgot and everyone else'll just think you're starting a new trend."

I blinked. "That's ridiculous."

"Yep. Here, help me fold this," she added, flapping a white tablecloth in my direction.

I picked up a great deal of useful information down there. Most of it I didn't even have to be sneaky to hear --- the maids seemed to feel it their bound duty to make sure I knew everything that was going on. For all that I knew, it might have been. I was one of the first to hear when Lyra, the four-year-old I'd met at lunch on my first day in Merlana, fell off a garden wall and hurt her leg. She was all right, fortunately, but had to stay in bed for a few days and was deeply, profoundly bored; I did my duty as a princess and dedicated much time and energy to ensuring her comfort --- also known as skipping lessons --- and encouraging our friendship, which blossomed. I had never contemplated friendship with a four-year-old as being possible, but found that, despite definite gaps in our comprehension and experience levels, I enjoyed talking to her.

The maids also delivered news of a much more secretive variety. One day, a rumor came through the grapevine regarding Rochelle. At least three girls were talking over one another trying to tell me about it.

"It's not her coming, it's ---"

"That's not what I heard," cut in someone.

"Yeah, but you were talking to Enric."

"Good point," said someone else. "Anyway, she's sending ---"

"I thought he was coming on his own."

"No, she sent him. No idiot's going to come without her permission."

"Oh."

"Anyway," cut in a girl named Erica pointedly. The others fell silent; she was considered to be in some authority. "There's news of Rochelle's delegation. She's not coming herself --- she's not that much of an idiot --- or at least not yet. First she's sending some lord of some province."

"He's her nephew."

"She's an only child, dolt," said another girl. Erica rolled her eyes.

"Cousin, then. Friend of the family. Whatever. The point is, she's sending some man who's going to try and convince us all that she's a friend to Merlana and to you. Don't be fooled."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not stupid."

"Well, the court of Desviado is known for its charm," she said. "The Desviadans are gracious and convincing almost without exception."

"She murdered my dad. I think I can handle it."

"Ryne's dead?" said a small girl. One of the older girls hit her gently on the head.

"No, Roberto. Her foster father."

"Well, just watch out," said Erica. "Keep your eyes open."

I didn't see the delegate arrive. No such luck --- I was stuck in bed with a cold. Never mind that Merlana was seething with magic; apparently my immune system would get weak if I treated every little inconvenience with a spell. So I was in bed with a load of tissues and various people trying to force soup on me at all hours of the day and night. Grethel was kind enough to keep me updated.

"His name's Mensonge," she said the afternoon of his arrival. "Sounds rather like a manly sponge, doesn't it? Anyway, he met with the king and queen right after he got here. No news yet."

"A couple people talked to him," she said an hour or so later. "Said he's nice enough, but no one likes him. Obviously."

"Well," she said the next time she came up. "A few of the girls like him. He's very attractive. Still, he's from Desviado. No one's likely to forget that soon."

"Well," she said later that night. "I met him."

"And?"

"And he's charming," she said. "I hate him, naturally, but he's charming."

I was not allowed out of my room until all traces of my cold were gone, several days after his arrival. By then, the first fury of gossip had died down, although it was by no means gone. I saw him at lunch. He was already there when I walked in. One glance told me that certain aspects of the rumors were true. He was, for lack of a better word, hot. Very hot.

"Princess," he said, taking my hand and bowing to kiss it. I didn't jerk away quite as quickly as I'd meant to. His eyes were way too dark for my own good.

"Lord Mensonge, I presume?"

"I am, my lady, and it is an honor to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." I sat down; he resumed his seat across and a few chairs down. Lisette was glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

Mabelle came in with the maids, bearing dishes. Erica was part of the day's lineup; she made a face at Mensonge as she passed behind him. I remembered who he was and assumed a cool demeanor.

"I hope your journey was pleasant?" I asked. He nodded.

"Indeed, all the more so due to my anticipation. I have often heard of the beauty of Merlana and have longed to see its shores."

"I trust you were not disappointed."

I thought I saw Lisette snort into her napkin.

"Not at all. All preconceptions I had were pale in comparison with the real thing."

"Tell me of Desviado," I said. "I have studied the land from books, of course, but never had opportunity to speak to one from that country." I was surprised at the ease with which this formal, half-sincere language sprang to my lips, and at the fact that no one looked at me oddly for it. It was empowering.

"Yes," he said, and nodded. "Relations have been strained of late."

Surreptitious glances darted around the table, from and to everyone. A look at Mensonge told me that he wasn't sure exactly how much I knew. I didn't need an advisor or kitchen maid to tell me that that was to my advantage.

"Well, then," I said with a sweet smile, "do enlighten me. Are the famous mountainous terrains as lovely and treacherous as they say?"

"Our mountains are like your sea, Your Highness," he said. "Powerful, beautiful, and held in great reverence by all. Though different in particulars, I think you will find that Desviado and Merlana are really not so far apart."

"I've never had any such impression," I said. I think I actually fluttered my eyelashes. He smiled. He had a very nice smile.

"That I am glad to hear."

Conversation never actually flowed, but Mensonge and I managed to skim over a great many topics, maintaining an air of distant civility, only occasionally punctuated by some realization on my part of how nice he really was. Ryne was quietly observant, as was his way, Pearl listened but didn't look much at us, and Lisette was unabashedly hawk-eyed.

The next few days passed in a state of quiet expectation. Everyone at the castle was waiting for Mensonge to trip up, and he was doing a very good job at being perfect. We had much opportunity to talk, and I found that I enjoyed his company. This was highly inconvenient. In the first place, he was the unofficial enemy whose boss, last I checked, wanted to kill me, and in the second, I had no support for liking him. Lisette, in particular, made it known that she did not approve. Eran, on the other hand, was a welcome reprieve from the castle. He refused to comment on Mensonge, saying that as he had never met the man he could hardly pass judgment. Instead, he tried --- very patiently --- to instruct me in Marea's language.

"No, sit still," he said one afternoon.

"I can't. The sun's too bright."

"The sun's too bright, the shade's too cold, the sand's too scratchy, the water's too wet," he said. "If you are waiting for ideal conditions you are going to be waiting a very long time."

"I'm sorry. My mind just won't quiet down. I'm restless."

He stood and offered me his hand. "Then let's go adventuring. This won't be exciting, but I think I know somewhere you'll like." He led me up from the beach where we had first met, which served as our classroom most days, and went into the forest. The trees hung cool and green above us. After a bit, he wandered from the path, and we picked our way though underbrush and thick clumps of bushes and fallen logs, until we came out in a little glade. It was beautifully wild. A few old trees covered with moss and lichen stood in a circle. In the center was a soft green carpet of some ground covering, dotted with purple flowers. Eran sat down on this. I ran my hand across the trunk of a tree. It was as though a deep, steady heartbeat was under my fingers.

"What can you tell about it?" Eran asked.

"Him," I said. "It's a him."

"Anything else?"

I listened. The heartbeat continued, but no thoughts came to mind.

"No. But he's friendly."

"All trees are friendly to you."

I sat down. "Is that the elements thing? I'm of the land?"

He nodded. "More specifically, the trees. Every Merlan has a bond with the sea. In addition, every Merlan has a secondary element. Ryne's is the sky, Pearl's sea. You're the earth, especially plants, I'm the earth, especially soil, Lisette is rock."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means you're in tune with your element. You'll be able to hear plants more clearly than other elements, and you'll find yourself drawn to places like this. I'm most comfortable in a garden, for example. Lady Lisette always goes to that beach that's full of stones and boulders when she's upset."

"Shouldn't I be sky or sea, if Ryne and Pearl are?"

"You probably had a grandparent or something who passed the trait on to you. It's just genetics, like your eye or hair color. Your mother was a mermaid, though, so there's some extra magic there --- you ended up being the place in between sky and sea."

'How symbolic."

"Very."

"So I can talk to plants?"

"If you can listen. It's just like talking to the ocean."

"I can't talk to the ocean," I said. "You know that. Every time I get close the sound slips away."

"Like talking to me through thoughts, then. The land will be easier for you. Here, try this flower." He pointed at a little purple blossom. I breathed deeply.

Hello, came my thought. In response, a soft voice whispered something. A moment later, it came again, not so much a word as an impression of warm and air cool shade.

Great. I was the one talking to seashells now. Eran laughed.

"Don't get cynical," he said.

"It's a flower."

"Yes, and you're a mammal."

A bird call entered my mind.

"I'm not getting words," I said.

"Well, you won't. Flowers don't have so much of a consciousness. The only plant you'll really be able to converse with is a tree. Or the dryad within it, rather."

"Dryad?"

"Tree spirit."

"I know what it is. It's ridiculous. So are mermaids."

"Would you stop protesting?"

I shook my head and went over to the tree I had talked to before. I tried to reach out with my thoughts.

Hello, it said. I jumped. The voice was perfectly clear in my head, and followed the word with a soft laugh. How are you?

Fine.

It laughed again, not from amusement but with the kind of indulgent fondness of a grandparent. Welcome to our glade.

Thank you. Did you know I was coming?

I felt your steps upon my roots and suspected. The arrival of a princess is rarely accomplished without some forewarning.

I groaned inwardly but said nothing.

Do not resent it, the tree said. It may serve you well someday. But now you must go. Your mother calls you, unless my leaves are mistaken.

I didn't know leaves had ears.

Ears are everywhere. Your mother calls to you, the sun carries their voices, my leaves hear the sunbeams, and I pass the message to you.

I frowned.

You are afraid to trust. Fear not; secrets can still be kept and the ones that are not kept… well, perhaps that is for the best? Perhaps. But go now. I will be here when you return, and you shall meet my family.

I nodded and moved away. Eran, who had been watching me closely, stood also.

"What did he say?" he asked as we made our way back to the path. I glanced over at him.

"You didn't hear?"

"I didn't listen. It wasn't my conversation."

"I thought you could hear everything."

"No," he said with a little smile.

Pearl had indeed been trying to find me.

"Good news!" she said brightly. Her eyes were practically sparkling.

"What is it?'

When she told me, I could barely repress a groan. Thanks to Mensonge's visit, and the recent arrival of several delegates from other countries and provinces, she had decided to hold a ball.

A/N: Again, sorry for the long time between updates... I've been A.C.T.-centric for the past few weeks. That's over now, thank goodness.

Oh, speaking of princesses, the following website is... well, it's delightful. Wanted: "A beautiful princess for the prince. She must have make-up. She must be good at swimming. She must be used to kissing. She must have a furry coat. Please come to the castle by calling 01483".

http://www.stcatherines.info/prep/fm.html

porkypick: Thanks! I hope the chapter answered your question --- I hadn't actually given the matter much thought, but when I tried to figure it out, I realized I was just thinking along general genetics lines. Hopefully I haven't written myself into a corner here, of course... I know next to nothing about genetics... :)

Piratess of Summer: Oh, twisted indeed! I'm thinking it'll get more so coming up. Hopefully I can keep it all straight, lol...

Allyp: Eek, haven't heard of the donkey skin one. That's a bit twisted. I remember the wanted posters --- I still have them floating around in a notebook somewhere. I'll have to dig them up and see if they're as funny as we thought they were. (Probably are, lol.) A scullery maid's artillery? I am so going to use that if I can work it in... And Ryne and Pearl didn't have any more kids because it was too likely that those children would be in danger, too. Pearl especially didn't want to risk it. She was uber-maternal and didn't want to have to give up another child like that.

slipshod: I agree, it is kinda cool. I'm hoping I can pull it off without venturing into too much cheesy/cliched territory.

teenchic2004: Thanks! I love Eran --- he's developing a little bit differently than I thought he would, but I think it's a good thing!