Before she left to resume her studies, Fiona made a gift to me of two things. The first was her Trump. The second was a dagger that could be concealed within the sleeve of my gown. "The first so you can call on me if you should need to- the second so that you will never have to call on anyone else ever again."
"Thank you, sister."
"You're welcome, Florimel." She gave me a frosty smile. "Do not assume that I will always aid you. Nor even Deirdre. You have chosen to be a Princess of Amber, and there will be times in the future when we will be at cross purpose." Again the frosty smile. "But in this matter your sisters will stand with you. There are things that should never be done- to anyone."
I nodded my head again. At this point I realized that if I continually thanked her for her advice she would always consider me weak, and that was something that I would not countenance. A Princess of Amber must never display weakness- not even to a sister.
Especially not to a sister.
"Llewella said that she would also speak to you today, Florimel. She is waiting for you in the garden. I would not advise you to keep her waiting."
"It was a pleasure seeing you again, sister." I smiled at her. Even at that age, I already had my smile perfected.
Fiona smiled back at me without even realizing she was doing so. I am reasonably sure that she went away from our meeting with the idea that I was at best a lovable halfwit (and compared to her I probably am), but even if I failed to impress her I had at least managed to win something in the way of protection from her.
And when you're dealing with Fi, if you can walk away without having lost something you're ahead of the game. Her ambition has always matched her intellect, and she has the best mind of the family- including Father. Things might have turned out very differently for us all if Father had recognized that.
Of course I'm telling you things you probably already know if you've read Brother Corwin's memoirs. His memory is less reliable at times, but in general he told the truth insofar as he knew it. (And yes, that does mean that I'm neither the most lovable or the cleverest of our family. Though to be fair I am also not the least clever or the most unlovable either.)
I had often walked through the palace (that word means less to me than it does to you) and made my way to the garden to play childish games. I had often run through these halls, teasing the guards and the maids, but that was in the past. I smiled at them to be sure, but I walked with as much grace as I could muster. I was no longer a child; I was a Princess of Amber. And while a Prince of Amber could whore around with the maids and trade filthy jokes with the guards, we did not have that luxury.
Even so, I watched them out of the corner of my eyes. I was sure that they could see my shame. That just by looking they knew that I had been dishonored. I was positive that they were judging me with their eyes, mocking me with their smiles. By the time I reached the garden it was all I could do to avoid breaking into a run.
I did not want to think about what had happened, but it seemed determined to creep into my thoughts. The king who had ravaged me was dead, but it seemed like his memory would haunt me forever.
(Just so you know, it doesn't. I have not forgotten, but that memory does not diminish me now. That incident does not define my life. I am more than that. I was more than that then, but it took me time to realize that.)
I walked to the center of the garden and sat down by the unicorn fountain. I had never seen a live unicorn, and I was positive that now I never would. I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Florimel."
I knew that voice. Not well. But I knew it.
It was Llewella. My other sister.
She was lovely. (Of course.) Her hair was as green as her eyes. And she seemed somehow sad and wistful.
She was a Princess of Amber … and she wasn't. The blood of our father flowed in her veins and gave her power over Shadow, but to this day I don't know if she has ever used it. She rarely came to Amber … and seldom stayed any longer than was absolutely necessary.
And today she had come for my sake.
I was … moved.
"Llewella. Sister." I curtsied to her. "It is an honor to meet you."
"Be at easy, Florimel." She smiled faintly. "We are not at court." She sat down beside me.
"You know."
"Yes."
"Everyone knows, don't they?"
"Not everyone. Deirdre was discrete." She took my hand in hers. "No one thinks less of you for what has happened, Flora."
I choked back a sob- and then I wrapped my arms around her neck and cried.
Llewella held me and murmured softly into my ear. It was the closest thing to a mother's embrace I had ever known or would ever know. (In this I am not alone. Oberon seldom kept one wife for any length of time- and the type of woman that he attracted tended to not be overly blessed with maternal instinct. My nursemaid was dear to me, but she had been given new duties once my cycles began.) I held onto Llewella as though my life depended on it.
She held me until I had cried myself out and then washed my face with water from the fountain. "You are still Flora. No matter what was done to you, you remain Florimel. No one can take that from you."
"Daddy- Father can. He can give me to another man- and another after that. He can do whatever he wants and no one will stop him because he is King in Amber."
"He is King in Amber, and he is powerful." Llewella smiled gently at me. "But you do not have to remain in Amber."
"What?"
"You could come with me to Rebma. You would be safe there."
"Rebma … I had heard of it all my life. The mirror image of Amber. A beautiful city in the sea. A city ruled by a woman who did not bow her head to Oberon …
No.
"I can't do that. I won't do that." I smiled at her. "Thank you for the offer, sister, but I am Florimel of Amber. I would cease to be Florimel if I went to Rebma."
Llewella smiled. "I expected that response from what Eric said."
"Eric?" I pounced on his name. I couldn't help myself. "Eric spoke of me?"
Llewella smiled. "Yes. He was there when Deirdre asked that I give you sanctuary."
"What did he say?"
"He said that you were too much a Princess of Amber to give way to fear." She slid her hand through my hair. "You are stronger than you know, Flora."
"Not strong enough. Not against Father. No one is stronger than Father."
"Oh I wouldn't say that." Llewella smiled at me. "There is one power that even Oberon respects. One voice that he will- if not obey- at least listen to."
"And who would that be?" I asked.
"Dworkin."
Dworkin. Grand Architect of the Pattern. Dworkin. The creator of the Trumps. The one who instructed the Royal Family in all the ways of Shadow.
Dworkin, our grandfather.
I did not know that then. I do not think that anyone knew. (Other than Father, of course.) Fi would have it that she knew all along, but then Fiona is not above stretching the truth if the alternative is to admit ignorance of any kind.
"Dworkin might be able to help me, but will he?"
Llewella smiled at me. "That is your next task, Princess of Amber. If you would hope to stand against Oberon than you must ally yourself with Dworkin."
"How can I do that?" I had met Dworkin. He had begun to instruct me in the ways of the Trumps and Shadow. The things that I would need to know before I dared to try to walk the Pattern and gain the power over Shadow that was my birthright.
He scared me.
And he was not overwhelmed with admiration for me either.
"You will have to impress Dworkin. Do that, and he will speak for you."
"Impress Dworkin?"
She nodded at me.
"Me?"
She nodded again.
I sighed.
At that point, a life in exile was starting to look better to me …
But no.
I was a Princess of Amber. I would rise to the challenge of impressing Dworkin and earning my Father's respect.
No one would ever abuse me again.
No one.
Not even Oberon himself.
"Very well, sister." I stood up and squared my shoulders. "If that is the only way I can remain Florimel, than I will do it. I will earn Dworkin's cooperation."
I did not add, "Or die trying."
But I thought it.
Oh how I thought it.