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The knight smiled. “You look splendid. Your mother and brother will be proud.”
“We are proud,” Liam added. The herald beckoned to him. He drew a breath. “Shang Masters, I hate this kind of thing.” Leaving the two women staring in astonishment, he went through the open door.
Buri poked Alanna’s arm. Thayet had emerged from the robing room. Alanna’s voice caught in her throat as the Princess tried to smile. “Do I look all right?”
Her hair was a mass of ringlets cascading from crown to shoulders. Her hazel eyes were big against her creamy skin, her lips crimson. Her flame-red gown left shoulders and an expanse of bosom glowing against the muslin, then blossomed into a wide skirt. Rubies set in lacy gold shimmered in her hair and against her neck.
The chief herald stared at Thayet too, stunned. “Don’t ask me,” Alanna grinned. “He’s seen all the beauties come and go. He told me they didn’t impress him anymore.”
Thayet looked curiously at the chief herald; he bowed to her, as deeply as he would to a king. “Princess, may you always grace our halls,” he said with feeling.
Both doors at the head of the stair swung open. The silence in the crowded ballroom was abrupt: both doors were used only for visiting royalty. The herald walked to the head of the stair; he struck his iron-shod staff three times on the floor.
“Her most Royal Highness, Princess Thayet jian Wilima of Sarain, Duchess of Camau and Thanhyien.” Alanna walked forward with Thayet on her arm. “Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, Knight of the Realm of Tortall. Buriram Tourakom of the K’miri Hau Ma.”
Jonathan rose, watching them. The awestricken look on his face was all Alanna needed to see. She gave herself a pat on the back for an idea well conceived. Thayet descended the stair as if she were floating, her face impassive. Only her tight, somewhat damp grip on Alanna’s arm revealed the state of her nerves. Jonathan walked down the scarlet runner between door and throne, to meet them in the ballroom’s center.
Alanna gently withdrew her arm from Thayet’s clutch, letting the Princess walk the few steps to Jon alone. The King-to-be embraced Thayet gently and kissed her on both cheeks. “Cousin, welcome,” he said, using the form of address common to royalty. “We regret the sad event that drove you from your home.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.” Thayet’s gaze was stern; plainly—to Alanna—she was trying to remind Jon of her wish to become a private subject.
Jonathan ignored the hint. “Until such time as peace returns to Sarain, know that Tortall is your home.” Offering Thayet his arm, he led her to the chair placed for her just below his own. She sat gracefully, her skirts settling around her feet in a perfect fan. Buri took up her station at her side. No one knew who began it, but a patter of applause turned into a roar of enthusiasm. In Sarain she was the female who should have been a male heir; the Tortallan courtiers accepted Thayet for herself.
George also enjoyed Thayet’s entrance, but he was not blind to her companions. He nodded his approval to Buri. And he was acutely aware of Alanna from the moment she appeared. In her dark grey and black, she was elegant and somber; her hair and eyes blazed. No one could miss the sword belted at her waist. Beneath one arm she carried a box not much bigger than her fist.
Remembering his disguise as a stern-faced Bazhir, George defeated the urge to beam like a proud lover. She’s done it, he thought. My darlin’s made them pay attention and dance to her tune. And I thought only common-born knew how to do that.
Waiting for the applause to quiet, Alanna looked around. Even in his disguise she knew George. She bit back a grin—she should’ve known he’d come!—and winked at him, enjoying the approval in his eyes.
Behave, Faithful scolded. You have business to take care of!
The noise was finally dying. Jonathan nodded. “Sir Alanna, come forward.”
She continued down the carpet, hand on sword hilt, Faithful beside her. Thayet smiled encouragingly as Alanna knelt before Jonathan.
“Your Majesty.” She drew Lightning and laid it on the step at his feet, in token of her allegiance. “This I swear: to serve you and your heirs with all I possess, in the Mother’s name.” Taking the box in both hands, she flipped it open. The Jewel lay on a black velvet bed. She held it up to him. “I bring you the fruit of my traveling, Majesty—the Dominion Jewel.”
Jonathan reached for it as total silence fell. The moment his fingers touched the Jewel, it flared into life, blazing like a small sun in his hand. Jonathan held it aloft, and first one courtier, then another, knelt, until everyone but Jonathan and Thayet was kneeling.
“We thank you, Sir Alanna.” His voice was audible in every corner of the room. “And we praise the gods for sending us this Jewel—and our Lioness—in this time of need.”
seven
Period of Mourning
The next morning Jonathan called a meeting of his most trusted advisors: Myles, Gary, the Provost, Duke Gareth, Duke Baird, Raoul, and Alanna. Feeling uneasy, Alanna went. In the last year she’d grown more used to taking action than to sitting in meetings. Also, she was unsure of her place in such a gathering. She was a knight; all the others had great responsibilities or wisdom, like Myles. She didn’t even hold a large fief.
Arriving early, she found the King-to-be in his small council chamber. He rose and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I hate to plunge you into things just when you’ve come home, but we have a great deal to do.” As she took a seat a little way down the table from him, he asked, “Have you given some thought to the place you’ll hold in my reign?”
Alanna was startled by the question. “What place—? I never thought that I’d hold any place, not really. Although it would be nice to have something to do,” she admitted. “I like roaming around, but I like it far better when I have a purpose. Maybe Liam is happy wandering from country to country like the wind. I feel as if I’m a sort of weapon, but a weapon must have someone to wield it, or it just lies around rusting.” She grinned, suddenly embarrassed. “Listen to me. Next thing you know I’ll start sounding like our old philosophy master.”
Jonathan groaned. “That old bore!”
Gary peered inside. “Is this a private gathering, or can anyone come?” He took a chair, plumping a stack of documents on the table in front of him. Seeing Alanna’s horrified look, he said kindly, “Don’t worry, the papers aren’t for this. They’re documents I refer to constantly, so I carry them around. It saves waiting for a servant to fetch them.”
“Gary, how awful!” she exclaimed.
“Nonsense,” Duke Gareth’s son retorted. “I had no idea before how interesting a kingdom’s business can be. To put diverse things like rainfall, the number of people leaving their farms, and the price of iron goods together and find out how they affect each other—”
“He’ll go on all day if you let him,” Raoul interrupted as he took his seat. The Lord Provost sat beside the big Commander and nodded a greeting; Alanna nodded back. Raoul went on, “Me, I have no talent for administration. Give me a good horse and a patrol any day!”
“You underestimate yourself, Raoul,” said Jon. “The Bazhir love him,” he explained to Alanna. “He’s made a good impression on the northerners and the foreign soldiers in the King’s Own as well.”
Alanna beamed at her large friend, who blushed. “I always knew you’d be a credit to us,” she teased him.
When she saw Duke Gareth at the door, Alanna got up and went to greet her teacher, hiding her shock as she knelt before him. The Duke, always lean, was rail thin. Streaks of grey had turned his hair a muddy yellow-brown.
Gary’s father looked Alanna over as she rose. Finally he smiled. “You have lived up to your promise,” he said quietly. “We are all very proud of our Lioness. Welcome home.”
Coming from Duke Gareth, who had always been sparing of praise, it was the highest honor she could receive. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered as she blinked tears away. “You’re very kind. I tried to be a credit to my training—to yo
u.” She bowed herself back to her chair as the Duke sat beside Gary. The others busied themselves with papers, pretending not to notice.
Baird and Myles arrived together while Alanna mastered herself. The Duke greeted her cheerfully. At the reception the night before he’d complimented her on her work as a healer among the Bazhir. Myles winked at her as he settled into place.
Alanna fidgeted as servants put out water, paper, ink, and fruit. How long will I be stuck here before I can go riding? she wondered. I don’t have any place at councils like this!
Jonathan cleared his throat, and the conversations stopped. “Thank you all for coming. I know the sixty days until the coronation seems like a great deal of time, but we have much to do.” He glanced at Duke Gareth. “I’ve given some thought to the appointment of a King’s Champion.” Alanna’s throat went dry. “Uncle Gareth was my father’s. It seems to have been an easy post for him—”
