“I understand, my lady.” Lady Verr set the papers down on the table, tapping them thoughtfully. “I am pleased to help, but I admit this is a rather extraordinary circumstance.”
Ophele understood the underlying question.
“No one ever taught me,” she said, fighting to keep her eyes from the floor. All she could think of was the scorn of the Aldeburke servants, Lisabe’s mocking laughter, and worst of all, Lady Hurrell’s gentle forgiveness for every humiliating mistake. “I have been trying to learn.”
Lady Verr’s eyebrows lifted.
“You had guardians in Aldeburke, did you not?” she said, her gray eyes sharpening. “We heard about them, caretakers of the secret princess. You had no tutors, no nurses?”
“No.” Despite all her efforts, Ophele felt heat burn in her cheeks and hated it, wishing she could stop it.
“I see.” Lady Verr looked once more at the list. “I had the usual education, myself,” she went on in a lighter tone. “A nurse when I was a child, then a governess, and tutors for history and courtesies, as well as a dancing-master. My grandmother was a terrible tyrant about all of it. But do you know, once I entered society, I don’t believe I usedhalfof this.”
“Really?” This sounded like the sort of thing Ophele should check on.
“Really,” said Lady Verr firmly. “And you are the third woman in the Empire, the only people to whom you must defer are the Emperor, the Empress, and perhaps the Crown Princess. You are her elder and the Emperor legitimized you, so technically you do not owe her a curtsy, though it may be politic to offer one.” She dipped her quill and scribbled a note. “That’s the sort of trap one must take care to avoid. We will have to ask what message His Grace wishes to send.”
Please leave us alone,Ophele thought, but did not say.
“That will be your first public appearance, then,” Lady Verr went on. “If you are summoned to court by the Divinity, then you cannot accept other engagements until you have received his blessing. If you imagine exactly what will happen when you get there, and what you will do, then you will be less nervous.”
“What will I do?” Ophele asked, intrigued.
“Mmm. Well…” Lady Verr smiled, mischievous. “I will tell you what my grandmother told me, when I first went to court. At the Greater Court, one waits to be announced before entering, so you will stand outside the double doors until the Emperor is ready to see you. When the herald calls your name, the first thing you do is pick up your skirt. Lift your chin. Then walk down the violet carpet of the Imperial aisle as if you were going to your bridegroom,drippingwith jewels and wearing the most beautiful dress you have ever seen, and that one bitch you hate has to watch.”
“Lady Verr!” Ophele exclaimed, scandalized.
“Now, you cannotdo that, no matter what shocking language you may hear,” Lady Verr admonished, but her eyes were dancing. “Who are you thinking of?”
“I am not telling,” Ophele replied, covering her mouth to hide a giggle. The thought of Lisabe watching as she walked into the Greater Court of Starfall on Remin’s arm made her want to laugh and laugh.
“But you see how this exercise is useful,” Lady Verr said, returning to business. “You will need a gown with a train to practice walking, my lady. And the first thing you will do when you reach the end of the Imperial aisle is to curtsy.”
“I don’t really know how to do that,” Ophele admitted, and the lady nodded, as if she had expected as much.
“You will do it impeccably,” said Lady Verr, rising from her chair with the clear expectation that Ophele should do likewise. “My grandmother made me do twenty every morning, the moment I got out of bed. Keep your back straight, and be careful not to crumple the fabric of your gown. I am about to be very vulgar and let you see my legs. Now, watch the position of my feet…”
***
As the day went on, it got easier to confess her ignorance. There were so many opportunities.
Lady Verr had a long list of questions and requirements by the time Leonin and Davi arrived, and though Ophele imagined Remin had already provided an explanation as to why their duchess had never learned to dance, she still felt compelled to face them and say it herself. They wanted to be her hallows.Theymust know the truth.
“I’d be pleased to learn with you, my lady,” was all Davi said, and offered her a surprisingly graceful bow. “I don’t mean to be a disgrace to you, neither.”
“Either,” corrected Leonin, with a sidelong glance. Ophele suspected that sometimes Davi’s errors were deliberate. “And no onehereshould feel any disgrace. Such neglect is…unforgivable.”
“It would be a scandal, if it were known,” Lady Verr mused.
“It is not for us to determine whether to make it one,” Leonin said oppressively. “If there is anything else that is unclear to you, Your Grace, I beg you will say so. You cannot be worse than this…person.”
“His Segoile manners are so fine,” drawled Davi. “He saysperson,but he meanspig farmer.But that’s all right, I’d ratherbe the pig farmer than the poor sod trying to teach him to dance, eh?”
“It sounds like a trying morning either way,” Ophele replied, with some trepidation, and was surprised to see the flash of a smile from Leonin.
It might have been very difficult indeed, if it weren’t for Davi. Ophele felt horribly conspicuous as Lady Verr and Leonin watched her first stumbling steps, and it was amazing that the instant she tried tothinkabout making her body move in a particular way, it felt as if she had anvils strapped to her feet. But Davi was struggling just as much as she was.
“Stars and blazes,” he said as he tripped over his own feet for the fourth time and caught himself on the table. “Buggering—that is, show me the blasted step again, Leonin. Never felt so left-footed in all my life.”
