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  Unwittingly she had stopped, lost in contemplation. Inside she felt as if she too was unfolding, turning to greet the sun.

  After some time she came back to herself, it was full morning and the forest had settled into its usual self. Cerid was sitting patiently nearby, watching her. Mera blinked and took a breath to apologize but Cerid smiled serenely, and she knew she had pleased her.

  The rest of their time together went much as it usually did, Cerid taught her the names of the various plants, and their uses, pointing out many that they had already seen in different stages over the months. Currently she was teaching her the best times to harvest, how to store the herbs once picked. Another day Cerid had led her to a wounded badger, who seemed not at all bothered by their presence, and showed her how to poultice a wound. The various different types, each aimed to combat different things. For the badger they used one aimed to fight infection and seal the wound as soon as possible. Cerid had told her that soon when she would harvest, she must try to be in the state of unfolding.

  Even now she felt that state just at her finger tips.

  “Mer! Mer!”

  She smiled as that burbling shout broke the peace, calling for her to return. Sitting up she looked across the meadow. In the middle a silken pavilion, cream and maroon, had been set up. Ringed about with liveried guards, the lush green forest in the background. She had barely seen her mother lately, what with her own studies and her mother looking after the twins. She knew it was much the same for Llew and his father. Hence today. Their highnesses had decided to have a family picnic, and had chosen a glorious summer day. Mera made her way through the vivid haze toward them.

  Inside little Dittander sat amidst a pile of cushions, waving his plump fists and smiling beatifically at her entrance, two tiny little teeth sitting in that gummy smile. “Merrrrr” He burbled happily. Sitting down she looked to see where Dittany was. Although twins it seemed they each wanted completely different things. When the were newborns they had done everything together, learning to sit up at the same time. They had all loved to watch them roll on round bottoms, holding onto one another for balance. But there the similarities had ended, soon Dittander started to speak, surprising everyone with “mama”, now he had all the families names. Dittany showed no signs of talking, but had quickly learned how to move. Soon enough she was crawling everywhere, coming back to Dittander to touch him, and then escaping once again.

  Llew was piling soft tasselled cushions in her way, creating mountains for her to scramble up and roll down, his face flushed and laughing as he thrust his hair away from his face. The king sat with Dittander, both clapping at their romping. Her mother sat a little back from the them watching with a tired, content look in her eyes. She plucked juicy strawberries from a bowl of beaten gold and sipped chilled white wine. She looked to Mera and beckoned her to sit by her feet. “How are you faring?”

  “I’m well mama.”

  “We have heard good reports from Tomas. He says you are attentive and intelligent, an apt pupil. I’m proud of you, but you must take cares to be more ladylike. There are fairies in your hair.”

  So saying she plucked them up, and gently blew them out of the tent, her slim face limned in light, glowing coils of hair gently framing her face. To Mera her beauty, her elegance, made her words sting even more. She would never be as graceful as her mother. Her mother turned back to the tent with a smile for her and it helped to calm the resentments.

  King Gaillardia swung Dittander up into the air, causing a torrent of giggles and screeches before depositing him in Mera’s lap. “It’s a pity the same could not be said for you, Llew. Tomas says that you are more than able, but less than willing. Still. This is the last warning you will get, I want to see improvements.”

  “But Papa! I am improving, Captain Madder says….”

  “I know what Captain Madder says, but that is not the subject under question, is it?”

  “No, Papa…”

  “Good, I’m glad you understand. I have heard of your skills, son. Shall we put them to the test? It’s a fine day, you can show me the new parry you were talking of.”

  “Yes, Papa!”

  Llew ran out to get the practise swords, King Gaillardia strolling after him with a proud look upon his face. Her mother sighed and gathered up Dittany, who had already started to crawl after them, and they both carried the babies outside. Already Llew had got the servants to clear an area, and was now limbering up, regaling his father with some lengthy story of his practise lessons. Soon enough they were both ready and facing one another, the servants stood around to enjoy the show, and to offer refreshments if necessary. Llew looked tiny next to his father. Although tall for his age and wiry, he barely came up to his chest and looked like a twig next to a tree. They had only just tested one another’s guarde, before pausing so the king could adjust Llew’s grip with some advice on what oils to use on the sword, and balms on the hand. Mera lost interest and let her attention wander. Which was soon taken by the sight of a rider coming over a hill and heading toward them a fast clip. The rider wore the House colours of a royal messenger, it must be important to interrupt the picnic. With much muttering the gathered party watched the rider bearing down on them.

  “My King! My Queen!” Out of breath the rider bowed from the saddle and passed the King a sealed missive, the wax still tacky. Which the King quickly broke, and scanned the contents, murmured something to her mother who replied in undertones, before turning back to the messenger and handing him his signet ring. “Tell Navew to call the Closed Council, the Queen and I shall attend anon.”

  With a final brisk bow the messenger wheeled his mount sharply and cantered back towards the castle. Soon enough the King and Queen were surrounded by their personal staff, whilst the other servants bustled about taking down the pavilion. A nursemaid came and took Dittander from Mera’s arms, and it seemed to her that the absence of his warmth felt very much like her mother leaving again. She stole a look at Llew who was staring after his father with the look of a hungry puppy. Catching her looking he made a rude gesture.

  The King and Queen had already mounted up, bridles gleaming against prize horseflesh and velvet. Her mother was giving orders to the nursemaids, a slight frown marring her beauty. The King looked to their children, his eyes gone dark with his mood. “I am sorry this as been cut short, Llew, we shall finish our bout another day. Jessamine and I will ride ahead, you both shall return with the others…this will make more sense later. Knowing court gossips, not as later as I would like…but still. Adieu.”

  And with that they were gone, the family day out over. Llew looked furious, at being left out no doubt. At least his father had bothered to say goodbye, her mother had only been concerned with the babies, as usual. Biting her lip as guilt flashed through her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Star

  The Oculus was astir with rumour, eddies of curiosity stirring through the gently mingling throngs of people occupying the echoing space. Vents and doors had been wedged open to coax any stray zephyrs to cool the humid summer heat, shafts of golden sunlight piercing the cool recesses in which gauzy draped women lounged in padded couches and demure servants offered refreshment, and dandies posed nearby. The lulling notes of harps mingled with the burbling fountains in the Gardens beyond to create a veil of confidence over the murmur of conversation.

  The King and Queen had passed by not so long ago, to the Little Council Chamber, at their heels the Lord General Karse had clanked, coiffed hair and armour gleaming. The High Priestess Vervain and Anise, her consort, followed. She serenely gliding, her sleeveless white gown fluttering, the jewellery of her prestigious rank warmly glowing in various golds. He stalking at her side, muscled chest bare, oak green kilt tied about his waist, garlands in his hair. A closed court was announced by Navew, the whipcord thin Keeper of the Seal, his ever present harried expression in place as he struck the beaten bronze gong once.

  In their wake the nobles had flown, Tomas caught u
p with them. As he surveyed the hall he felt bemusement at the peculiarities of Danuans. Rather than be perturbed by such an unexpected meeting, a meeting of the most powerful people in this court, indeed this nation, they treated it as an impromptu fete. Whiling away the time with refreshments and delicacies, whilst they gossiped about the cause. All Houses currently at court were represented, none would be seen to be behind the times. Nor miss out an opportunity to test out the balance of a rivals perspective, or a possible alliance.

  The general consensus was that it must be about the Empire. The solidly built veterans of Arabis House, of course, thought perhaps the King had finally decided to crush Aummor. Or at least hopefully declaimed such views, blue tendrils of smoking herbs drifting past hard, penetrating dark eyes. Lord Caderos of House Twining Ivy listened but kept his own council. Captain Madder gruffly nodded, his eyes scanning the room, knights young and old at their backs.

  With amusement Tomas noted the presence of the head of House Dahlia languishing resplendent in scarlet silk with ebony hair coiled about her head, casting sultry and speculative glances at those who waited attendance on her. Dracaena’s gaze shifted occasionally to the infamous and single Lord Knight Caderos. It was well known her eldest daughter was ripe for marriage, and the hot house blooms Dahlia had a reputation for exotic beauty, and sly wit at trading.

  Her nubile consort was engaged in a heated discussion with Admiral Mullein of Sea Holly House about the possibility of, and competition, in trading Sanguine. The wily old sea dog kept his composure and held out his reluctance on giving the Empire a toehold in Danua.

  Passing them by Tomas paused in an errant beam of light to take up a glass of elderflower cordial, sweet coolness easing the tension in his head and eyes, most likely from too long reading into the night. Dawn had caught him unawares, again. His moment of peace was burst with a hearty booming chuckle. Situated in a broad band of sunlight lounged Houses Helianthus and Yarrow. The Lord Coleus of House Yarrow was wiping the mirth from his rotund cheeks, grey speckled curls awry. His sun haired brother Cleome, the Head of House Helianthus, grinning with a mischievous humour. Their wives reclined near by, Lady Dianthus, Head of Yarrow, and Lady Artemisia her younger sister and wife of Cleome, with identical expressions that acknowledged their husbands would never escape boyhood. Tomas hid a smile as he meandered past hearing snippets of conversation centred on the harvest to come, and the expectations of the sisters’ new breed of apple and the quality of cider it would make.

  Seeking the coolness of the shadows Tomas drifted toward the third and final grouping of Houses. Of these he felt compelled to watch. He rather suspected there was much of the old blood in these houses, betrayed by a certain wildness in their beauty, and it reminded him of days long gone, of another place he once hoped would be his home.

  In the soft, stirring shade dwelled a member of House Foxglove, soft brown hair hanging loose about his shoulders, green eyes coldly watching the ladies with whom he stood, and yet at a remove. A man entering his late twenties, as of yet unmarried, his House known for their steadfastness to the Crown and Rose. Lord Aruncus and Lady Astilbe, the Heads of Iris House, sat side by side. Dusky brown and silver hair mingling, identical blue eyes that held a feral humour. Their fingertips stained with the muted hues of the rainbow, evidence of their skill and trade with dyes. They worried that whatever the council was about it would cause more levies on the land, yet their expressions gave the impression that they secretly found it all very amusing.

  Listening politely and offering reassurances were House Water Lilly. The whole clan held a wetly ethereal beauty, long golden hair, pale blue and green eyes, gentle flush of pink on cheeks and lips, puddles of watermarked silk in blues around them. Their faces held expressions of wide eyed innocence and good faith, as the Lord Shastra, a remarkable tall and svelte man, maintained that nothing could tarnish the grace of Danua. When his lady smiled there was a subtle to it that suggested nothing would dare to tarnish that grace.

  The garrulous old man that was dubiously the Head of Gentian House ambled up to them, his bald pate glistening with sweat, velvet jacket rumpled. He grabbed a handful of canapés from a near by attendant, somehow managing to put them all into his nearly toothless mouth, and whilst chewing set about his discourse. “Now, now young Sirs, Ladies. There’s no fret to be having now. We’ll do what we always do, lead him on by the apron strings, we’ll take, and smile, and do what’s best for us because that what they want really, isn’t it? A chance at us? At this? That’s why our King married that boy’s mother, now she wasn’t too bad, a fine Lady, a tragedy that was. That must have stuck in the old buzzards craw now, hey? But time flows on, he’ll do us proud and we’ll do what we’ve always done. Apron strings!”

  And so saying he veered off, trailing behind an unaware attendant carrying goblets of chilled wine. Tomas watched his retreating, age stooped back and wondered if there was any sense in the old coot’s words. Tomas wasn’t so sure the power and might of the Empire could be so easily dismissed, but he had a point in that Danua had done very well in keeping it at a peaceful arms length throughout the centuries. His form was slowly swallowed into the milling masses. The lesser houses and nobles flowing from group to group, in hopes of attaching themselves to a greater power, or perhaps already in the service of one. The young forming smaller groups attempting to imitate their elders, or using it as a chance to escape to the gardens and summer sunshine. And of course the endless flow of attendants and servants. All but Thistle House were represented, and it was said that the Head of that House was infirm. If the news was truly of importance it was timed remarkably well. With the summer solstice a short time away it was nearly a full court, the Houses gathering for the celebrations before going home for Harvest. Indeed, maximum impact.

  Tomas thought back through his letters and the gossip the children had brought. Of Danuan Court only the normal gossip; who was allied to whom, who had taken a secret lover, what challenges had been issued and met, the latest fashions and intrigues. A whole host of fanciful, daring, and sordid tales. Nothing out of the ordinary. Merida was calm, the usual abundance at harvest expected, the plans for the Embassy going ahead for the Empire’s toehold there. Of the Emperor continued debate on his search for a wife, and as ever, pervading everything else, the delicious wonder and mystery. Sanguine.

  With a soft sigh the door to the Little Council Chamber opened, the King strolling through talking quietly, the Queen on his arm laughing at some jest and waving a dismissive hand. At their entrance a hush spread out around them, like a pebble dropped into a lake before, as one, they rose to intercept them. Lord General Karse followed, a stiff expression on his face and a white knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword, he made a bee line for Captain Madder and the Knights.

  The King raised his hand to forestall any onslaught, then deftly caught up two glasses of cordial. Passing one to his Queen, he raised his own. “I see I am blessed with the company of my gracious Court, is there a special occasion, or have you merely gathered to make free in the sunshine? To summer and happiness!”

  The gathered nobles hurriedly joined in the toast, the gathered force loosening up slightly, once drinks had been downed. The Head of Arabis House stepped forward.

  “So what of the meeting sire? What news?”

  “News, Andro? Very little I’m afraid, other than over zealous young courtiers. Nothing Navew could not handle on his own! Some showy affair in Kaelistra that has set tongues wagging. No doubt you’ll hear all the details soon enough.”

  At which Arabis gave a gruff nod. Navew edged forward looking a little wide eyed as he caught sight of the Mistress of the House, who it was said actually had more power than the King inside the Palace walls, and also happened to be his wife. “My King, if you will excuse me? I have plenty to be getting on with, couriers to speak to, not to mention the outrageous prices of manure I intend to refuse to pay, and of course Privet will….ahem. Yes, good day!”

  “I think I may go sit an
d talk for awhile, husband.”

  “Of course, my lady wife.” With a tender parting kiss the Queen was soon welcomed with open arms and settled into a couch with the ladies Dianthus and Artemisia, both of whom had young children. The sound of feminine mirth and exasperation soon filled the air around them.

  Across the way the Dracaena had intercepted the Lord General Karse, an elegant hand poised on his arm, and an immaculate eyebrow raised in invitation. “Karse, darling, are sure we’re not to have hordes of ravaging Aumorrans or Imperialist descend on us? It would be a terribly frightful way to end a party that’s just getting started, don’t you think? Do tell!”

  “Oh have no fear, my dear lady, it seems it’s all a matter of gossip. That young Emperor seems to have felt a bit bad about that massacre he orchestrated a few months back. So he’s given a gift to the poor, a statue of that bloody Goddess of theirs. The height of two men and made of Sanguine they say. Set up in the razed ground and supposed to offer protection. Bit late for that, I think. Mmm?”

  “Sanguine! But that must be worth a fortune. Surely it’s merely plated, but even so…what does it do? How do they say it?” She wafted a hand. “Charged! What has it been charged with?”