The true majesty of the court didn't set in until my first Winter Festival. Nothing in all the Empire reached the raw extravagance of the capital; a full week of feasting and raucous celebrating brought a spark of life to the dreary season. The largest market square flooded with vendors, performers, and artisans from all over the land. The castle hosted a single event during this time, but it was the most lavish of them all: A winter gala. No expense was spared; elaborate cuisine, the most skilled musicians humankind had ever produced, a ballroom dressed into a fantastical daydream of splendor, and everyone of note for miles around in attendance. I can still recall the painful anticipation as my very first ball crept closer and closer.
I suffered long for those few hours of escapism! The amount of training it takes to float around in gowns… and do it well. I disdained the lessons then; as if everything should come naturally. It doesn't and didn't. This ball would be my ultimate test for all I had learned in the past months. I had the least training out of everyone in attendance; there was every possibility I'd make a fool of myself. Madame Tutor didn't want me to attend at all, but I insisted and even went so far as to beg Galbatorix for permission. He gave it in the end, citing our family creed, "Finish what you've started." If I was so sure I was ready, then I would have no one but myself to blame if I ended up making a disaster of my debut.
I spent most of the evening counting my steps, remembering when and how much and in what way to speak, eat, laugh, and breathe. I danced with a dozen or so strangers but remembered none of them. Actually, only one young man made any impression that night… for all the wrong reasons.
It was a triumph of art; the entire ballroom was like something out of a dream. Hundreds of people floated around the spacious chamber, each more ornate and colorful than the last. Feathers, gemstones, fabric flowers, and audacious silk brocades adorned even the lowliest noble. The menagerie swanned about to music produced by a flock of performers. High above, the ceiling practically dripped gold. Thousands of lights flickered like minuscule candles or faraway stars, gilding the party beneath in a spectacular glow. Tables strained on all sides of the room, laden high with culinary perfection and a seemingly endless supply of liquor.
I tried my very best to stay grounded in the goings-on. However, after my umpteenth banal greeting and bland conversation, I felt my attention start to wane. How do any of them keep each other straight when they take such pains to blend in?
They're like a flock of birds; plumage and all, Katana purred in the back of my head. I giggled and she hummed. I got the impression of her dozing in the treasury under one of Shruikan's much larger wings. He was normally unapproachable by anyone but Galbatorix (and even then only because he couldn't raise a claw to the man) but, since The Banishing of the Names, he'd tolerated Katana's occasional presence in his lair.
"Your Highness?" I blinked. The nobleman in front of me, a rounded sculpture of crimson velvet with a doughy face that seemed to seep out of his collar, had paused after his inquiry. His lifted eyebrow and expecting air told me I'd just been asked a question; one that I had completely missed. He repeated the tail of the query (which in no way saved me). "What think you?"
This one had performed a flowery rain of compliments for everything and everyone in the last half-hour. I plastered on a smile and bet on a hunch, "I think it's splendid."
"The weather, Princess?" the man's tone was duly respectful, but also laced with mirth. We both turned to regard a view out of a windowed balcony of a bleak night streaked with snowflakes whipping past in white streaks.
Oops.
Busted. Katana enjoyed watching my floundering, perhaps a little too much. I never had the occasion to notice before… but she'd grown into a fiend for gossip!
Not yet. I kept the smile in place, flicking out a delicately painted fan to hide my hesitation, "Of course. It's similar to being on dragon back; the speed required for flight turns even the gentlest snow into a blizzard. I haven't had the leisure time to be with Katana as I'd like, so any reminder of her is worth the inconvenience of the cold." The nobleman lapped up my narrative with fawning attentions. I zoned back out.
My mental audience was less adoring. I would be flattered if you weren't lying through your teeth. You hate the cold, hate the wind, and we both hate snow-flying!
He doesn't need to know that. Who would dare question a rider?
It seems most of them don't want to question anything you say.
Not to my face, at least. Nowhere was that more obvious than the flock of nobles who peacocked around Galbatorix. The same people who feared and loathed him only months ago were now fighting for the honor of licking his boots. He kept a tasteful distance from his guests, in no small part purely by the figure he cut. He stood out in a court defined by lavish luxury and copious colors: adorned head to toe in pure black, save for Vrangr at his waist. He wore power comfortably, commanding attention at his slightest word or gesture. It's amazing how far a reputation will get you.
When it's earned.
I spotted a gentleman approaching me from the opposite side of the great hall, a dainty glass of winter cordial in each gloved hand. Well, finally someone who opens with a bribe! A girl could get used to this.
Boozehound! Try not to lose your wits, ey? We wouldn't want you to end up like Morzan. The big man had long since vanished from the festivities, swaggering unsteadily out of the hall with a serving maid on each arm while belting a jaunty tune.
Shame, I teased. Seems like a fun way to spend an evening.
Stay out of trouble! Katana's tone turned serious, I'm going to get some rest, if you please, and I'd prefer not to share the consequences with you in the morning.
At least not without partaking in any of the fun.
Exactly.
"Princess!" The young man said breathily as he trotted up. He was roguishly handsome; with narrow features, neatly combed dark hair, and warm brown eyes. His clothes were plain, a jade jacket and grey trousers that may have been a bit big on him. He offered the glass in his left hand, grinning politely, "Will you join me for a toast, and perhaps for a dance?"
I graciously accepted the cup, "To what shall we toast, my lord?"
"To the year of prosperity to come!" He grinned and lifted his own coup, "The war has ended and we have peace at last."
"To peace then," I inclined my head and mirrored his gesture. But no sooner had I lowered the glass to my lips than it was unceremoniously smacked out of my hand. It sprayed its contents in an arc over both me and my companion before shattering on the stone floor. All conversation around us dragged to a halt.
"You buffoon!" The nobleman cried, swatting drops of moisture off his coat. I flicked my fingers free of liquor and stared, dumbfounded, at the unfolding scene.
Anthony wedged himself between the young man and me, squaring his shoulders and staring him down. His tone was cool and professional (so very unlike him) as he said, "Care to explain what I just witnessed, my lord?"
The man gaped, "Must I really deign to justify my actions to a commoner? It is no concern of yours what Her Highness and I-"
I lifted a hand to silence the poor thing before he shoved his foot any deeper into his own mouth. "What precisely did you see, Anthony?" I saw the noble wince in my peripheral as I spoke my defender's name.
"This man put something into that cup," Anthony gestured down at the shards.
"Ha!" The laugh was cocky if a bit strained, "Convenient that the contents can no longer be examined! What you saw was me adding drops to my own drink, they are a common enough medicine among the upper classes ," he sniffed and crossed his arms, "as it happens, they are rather expensive. You will be made to pay for their waste, ruffian-"
"There is an easier way to settle this," all three of us pivoted to regard the new speaker. Anthony, the accused, and I dropped into bows before Galbatorix. He looked none too pleased by the disturbance, save for a glitter of interest in his dark eyes. "Idril, come."
"I'm not a dog." A wraith-like woman floated out of the crowd. She was dressed childishly in unfitted frills of pale turquoise. Her honey-gold curls fell loosely around her expressionless, angelic face. Her voice maintained its dreamy whisper, even as she knelt on the ground, "Poisoner or paramour? Either way, he smells like shit." She lowered her face to the damp floor and licked the puddle. Absolutely no one said a god-damned thing as she examined every facet of the mess. Torix waited patiently for the results of her examination (without even acknowledging the surrounding room) as if this was a perfectly normal experience. "Definitely poison," she hummed tunelessly as she regained her feet. "A strong one too. You wouldn't have made it through the night," I shuddered at her peaceful smile. Her little pink tongue poked out of her lips and she plucked a sliver of glass from the tip unhurriedly. She licked her lips and said, "I need to go lie down." Then she drifted away with nary a farewell.
"It seems the matter is settled. Our 'foremost expert' has pronounced you guilty," Torix flashed a playful grin at the poor man, "Guards, escort this man to the dungeon."
The man bolted like a rabbit. He lept over a table, showering the floor with a mountain of pastries and punch. In his jump he also snatched up a serving knife, waving it before him to part the crowd between him and the balcony. He kicked at the seam of the doors and the latch shattered, letting in a gust of frigid air. I snatched up a handful of my skirt to make chase, but I only made it a few steps before I slowed to a trot.
Anthony beat me to the punch. He followed hot on his prey's heels, sliding smoothly through the mess and leaping through the freshly opened door without breaking his momentum. By then, the man had nearly reached the railing. Anthony grabbed a fistful of his coat and dragged him back, breaking his balance, toppling him to the ground, and knocking the knife out of his stunned hand. Still, his prisoner fought; bucking and kicking as he tried to throw Anthony off.
The fugitive underestimated his pursuer. Anthony tried to restrain him once, twice, and then with a shout he hauled back and punched the man in the jaw. It whipped his head sharply to the side, rocking him into the balcony. He sputtered, dazed but still swinging blindly at the air above him. So, Anthony hit him again. Still no improvement to his temperament. My loyal defender took the man by his lapels and cracked him against the ground for good measure. Thoroughly helpless, the man lay humble as a lamb, groaning in rage and pain. Anthony rested his knee on the man's chest until his comrades could assist in transporting his captive.
A fair number of the guests hesitantly applauded the assassin's removal. Anthony trailed after his fellows. I dashed up and caught his arm. He halted, wide-eyed but clearly pleased. "Wait," a hasty excuse knit itself together in my head and I turned to the king, curtsying like the lady I was supposed to be. "Majesty, might I be excused? Between the excitement and my spoiled gown, I feel I am no longer fit to entertain our guests," I risked a glance up; a risk I regretted. His face showed little emotion, but I could sense the rage ticking just beneath the surface. A claw-like finger twitched, candlelight glimmering off one of his many rings. I half expected him to strike me right there in front of the entire court, or at least berate me. Why is he angry? You'd think he'd want me to leave.
He nodded slowly, and in a tired voice said, "That would be best. This guard is enough to escort you?"
"Yes, ebrithil ," I bowed in the fashion used by the riders, inherited from elven culture.
"Then go to your rest. We shall speak more of this in the morning," He waved his hand and retreated back to his perch, accompanied by the band's awkwardly resumed ambiance.
I marched out of the ballroom as quickly as propriety allowed. The moment the door closed behind Anthony, I kicked off my shoes and sighed in relief. "You would think the heel is the worst part, but really it's how narrow the front of them is. They pinch so badly that, as noble women age, their feet actually deform to mirror the shape!"
"That's disturbing," Anthony's return to our usual candor made me feel much better, "I'd expect rich people to want comfort all the time. You'd think money would be good for that much at least."
"Thank you! I'm sore enough after training, I don't need to walk on broken toes!"
He chuckled, walking alongside me. "By the way, I wanted to apologize. I didn't have time to do anything else, and I just reacted…"
"Apologize? You were great!" I patted him on the back and beamed, "Perfect bodyguard, ace detective, and one hell of a brawler! I wouldn't have expected that from new meat."
He relaxed and smiled with me, "It's not so different from corralling a little brother."
"You've got siblings?"
"Just one. Robin. He's about ten years younger than me though, so it's more like he has two fathers," An image came to me of Anthony with a child on his knee, in a home just like I'd had with Mother and Vera. I almost missed it as he said, "He needed lots of looking after; wasn't suited to farm life,"
I blinked. How many weeks had I been ogling this boy and I'd never bothered to even learn that much about him? "Is it very far from here?" Now that I'd gotten him in a sharing mood, I couldn't resist pushing for more.
"Our farm is a little ways north of Teirm. It's not great land for crops, but it's incredible for livestock. We raised cattle, and chickens… we even had a breeding pair of horses for a while when I was younger, but we never did replace them." He eased into the conversation, radiating a calm I desperately needed after such an eventful evening. He kept me riveted all the way to my room with tales of 'Henriette: The Demon Chicken, "And one time, I swear to everything on this earth, I saw her pick a lock!"
"She must have really had it out for you," I meandered past him into the room, tossing one of the cursed shoes as far as I could. It slapped into the far wall and slid behind a potted shrub.
"Yep," he agreed happily, propping open the door for me before resting back against it, "Robin was the only one she ever liked. Which makes it funnier that she hated his mother."
His mother, I noticed the distance he put on the words and decided not to pry just yet. What secrets lurked beneath that easy charm? "Well, You simply must regale me with more epics of the fearsome Henriette. I feel I have much to learn from such a warrior that could inspire fear in my bravest knight."
"Any time you like, Ms. Lilly," Every. Damn. Time. He said my name and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. He pretended not to notice, "It's a shame we can't be friends."
"Aren't we?" I regarded him out of the corner of one eye.
He shrugged, "We are if you say we are, Your Highness ."
I tossed my other slipper at him. He reached out and caught it, laughing at my exaggerated pout. "In that case, we are the very best of friends, Sir Anthony," my voice turned into a puffed-up squeaky parody of Madame Tutor and my (very biased) audience joined me in a fit of giggles.
This boy… he did wonders for my spirits during a desperately lonely period of my life. Especially since, after the attempted poisoning, I was confined back to only leaving my chambers for lessons. I got verbally shreddedfor being careless enough to not check for poison, scolded for not catching the assassin myself, and mocked for being "publicly damseled". In retaliation, I doubled down on my work. This pulverized my poor brain and wore my nerves down to nubs. By the stirring of spring, my sanity was hanging on by only Anthony's attentions.
Coincidentally, my knight had just the cure.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" I hated to sound unenthusiastic, but the tension was getting to me. Anthony insisted no one would bother two people attempting to exit the castle grounds but it still seemed like madness to me. He'd snagged a spare set of servant garb and a dull grey cloak for me. He accompanied me a few steps behind in his civilian clothes; a faded forest green tunic and patched brown trousers. I closed my mind off to even Katana, as much as she resented it I couldn't risk her getting in trouble over my hair-brained scheme.
We filed out of the main gate alongside a few other servants all heading into town either on errands or to enjoy their allotted half-day of vacation. The gate guards didn't bother us at all.
I held my breath for the first few steps out of the grounds, easing it out in a sigh. Anthony trotted up until we were side-by-side and grinned at me, "Absolutely sure," his steps bounced as he took my arm. "Now we have the rest of the afternoon to enjoy the capital!"
I felt a smile answering his own, "Lead the way!" His excitement really was infectious. "First, something to eat!"
Uru'baen was even more of a behemoth on the ground than she was from above. The main streets were paved with precisely mined pale stones. We passed domineering walls with elegant metal fixtures that guarded the residences of middling-tier nobles. Anthony soon steered us off the main path onto rougher, cobbled streets. The blend of architecture was fascinating; here a graceful, organic-looking structure that seemed to spring straight from the stone, here a mighty geometric construction of plaster and beams, then a teetering overhang that spanned the entire avenue. Pedestrians jostled with carriages, rickshaws, carts, and stands laden with every sort of good. I resisted the urge to stop every few steps to examine something new, mostly out of fear that I'd be trampled in the unending stream of people.
Anthony kept one hand firmly in mine as he directed us. He finally brought us to the entrance of a tavern; on its own nothing particularly special, but it was full to bursting with a boisterous crowd. "Lunch rush," he explained, "The owner makes exactly one dish: big vats of stew. It's hearty, warm, and the best thing in town. It reminds me of what my mother would make in the dead of winter to keep us all healthy." A peaceful reminiscence settled over his features as he directed us through the queue.
He didn't lie. The concoction wasn't beautiful, but it smelled fantastic . I shoveled it down as fast as I could, blowing into the cloud of steam roiling off the top just long enough to survive imbibing it. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the simplest things in the months since my arrival here. I took a break from my gluttony to watch Anthony, similarly engaged with his own bowl. He paused, spoon fully shoved in his mouth and a drop of broth staining his chin. I wiped him clean with a sleeve and asked, "What's next?"
He swallowed down his mouthful and rubbed his stomach, "Want to see the central market? There's a bakery with pastries that look like shells and they're covered in honey-"
"I'd like to see what's outside the city," I scraped the sides of my bowl and set it up on a counter.
He grinned, stacking his bowl in mine and starting off down the road. I followed along, draped casually on his arm."I'm in for an adventure. Next time though, you should bribe me with sweets," Anthony said.
"As you wish," I teased.
-:- -:- -:-
An hour or so later, we were trundling out of the eastern gate in the back of a farmer's cart. Anthony told me even more stories about his life. I carefully asked what his mother was like, and he painted an image of the perfect woman: beautiful, gentle, kind, and clever. "She died when I was small," Anthony added quietly, twirling a tarnished silver band on his littlest finger, "I miss her every day."
"I understand," I patted his shoulder. He held my fingers, rubbing the pad of his thumb over them.
"Father remarried eventually, hence Robin," he laughed, but there wasn't any real humor behind it, "It's weird how sweet he turned out, considering his witch of a mother." He dropped my hand to twirl a piece of straw, "She's always hated me."
"How could anybody hate you?"
He shrugged, "I'm not her son. Though I guess I can't blame her; I've always hated her because she wasn't my mother."
I frowned, "It isn't a child's responsibility to bridge that gap."
"Maybe not, but after all these years, I think some space is best for both of us." He tossed the mangled straw to the road and picked up another piece.
"Is that why you left home?"
"Mostly. That and… promise not to laugh?"
"Maybe."
"I wanted to be a hero. That's why my mother picked my name, after a hero in an old legend she grew up hearing. She wanted me to be strong and brave," he flexed his arms theatrically, "and Robin looks up to me like I am one already. I have a lot to live up to."
"And now here you are, saving princesses and undertaking daring adventures," I may have been playing up the praise a little too much, but he still glowed.
"All in a day's work, Ma'am."
Once we reached a fork in the road, we hopped out of the hired cart and handed a few coins to the farmer. Anthony laced his fingers with mine as we strolled off into the surrounding fields. The grasses here were long, more like thin sticks than the manicured lawns in the palace gardens. The sky was a dull grey, slowly darkening in the far distance.
"Everything is still frozen," Anthony said, "But before another month has passed, this place is going to explode into every color imaginable,"
"How can you tell?"
He pointed out different shapes of stems, patterns of leaves, and clumpings of dried-out seed pods. "These over here have an awful smell but have pretty yellow flowers. This one doesn't flower at all, but the leaves turn color when the weather gets cold."
"I never even knew…" I touched the apparently-dead stems and was shocked to feel the pent up life burning just beneath the surface. "It's like they're tensing; getting ready to pounce-"
"Or… spring?" Anthony wiggled his eyebrows playfully and I snorted. He joined my merriment and flopped into a patch of grass, flattening it with a mighty woosh . I joined him, pressing into his warmth. His breath hitched and he stayed completely still. Only his lips moved as he whispered, " Lilly?"
"Hm?"
"I… like this," he swallowed, "I like you. Very much." His face burned my new favorite color.
I propped up on one arm to get a better view of him. "I like you too."
His eyes sparkled like a happy puppy's, "We should do this again," Anthony tried to put on a casual tone, "You can't stay cooped up all the time or you'll go crazy,"
"Is that the only reason?" I asked playfully. I lowered my face to his until our noses touched. My voice dropped into a whisper, equal parts to flirt and to conceal the nerves I couldn't erase, "You sure you don't just want to see me?"
He blinked. Then he seemed to settle an internal argument, raising his head just enough to brush his lips against mine.
The world fell away. My ears rang, my eyes closed, and my breathing halted. The contact was chaste and gentle, but I felt like I'd been struck by lightning; tingling joy spread down to my toes and I curled my fingers into his shirt. We parted, after a moment or an eternity I'll never know, both of us struck dumb by our recklessness. He tried to form a response, clearly embarrassed to have acted without consulting me.
I kissed his cheek and he relaxed. "I want to see you too," His dopey grin reasserted itself, strong arms curling around my waist. I willingly tucked into him. "I just don't know how," the real world pressed against our little bubble of happiness, and couldn't quite keep my voice steady against its battering.
"I'll earn a knighthood," he answered immediately, "I'll become the greatest hero there ever was, and maybe even a lord. Then..." He trailed off self-consciously. In a timidly hopeful whisper, he added, "...maybe I can earn the right to love you."
My heart fluttered. Love … "You have it," I spoke without thinking, without weighing a single consequence, "The only permission you need for that is mine, and I give that gladly. All other things can wait."
He beamed. "I'm not worried about anything, as long as I have you,"
"For a price," I teased. He pursed his lips in an irresistible pout. "You can safe guard my heart, so long as I have yours."
Moisture glistened in his sparkling eyes. His only response was to cup my cheek and pull me into another lovely kiss.
Gah, I feel like such a fool recounting all this now. I became utterly dependent on a single person for all my happiness the first opportunity I got. Regardless of who that person is, this is NEVER a good idea, especially when life has already shown you a proclivity for taking away any safety you manage to find. I knew all too well how it felt to lose one's entire world, and yet I made the center of my well-being the most fragile thing I could find.
Also, I became reckless; Anthony and I made a habit of these little rendezvous all through the spring, summer, and well into fall. We didn't travel together, rather we would meet in that field. We watched it bloom together; sitting and holding each other in a little pocket of beauty, far away from all the pain. I took a route through the newly exposed passages to and from the castle (I think it speaks poorly of my character that I was willing to literally walk over bones just to flirt with a boy. What kind of tactless, selfish, childish…). Now and again I would be a little too careless and be tardy to a lesson, but no one ever questioned it.
That alone should have warned me of my impending doom. So many things that seemed out of place back then would come together in disastrous fashion…. And my protector, my love, my knight would pay the price.
