Daughter of the Disgraced King (9 page)

When the music stopped, he bowed over her hand and passed
her on to Rishiart. The second prince danced more smoothly. He seemed
perceptive enough to realize that Ailsa didn’t really want to engage in
conversation. Either that, or he just couldn’t think of anything to say.  As
the music changed, Rishiart bowed and put her hand in Arrigo’s. The third
prince was livelier, less formal, but he tended to dance a little too fast.
Just keeping up stifled any attempt at conversation, not that Ailsa had much to
say to Arrigo anyway. When that dance was over, the three princes bowed again
and left.

Everyone seemed to turn to stare at Ailsa for a moment before
the music started up again.

Jathan touched her arm. “Do you . . . want to dance some
more?”

Ailsa concealed her clenched fists in the folds of her gown.
“Could we . . . get something to drink, first?”

“Sure. The refreshments are all up on the balcony, out of
the way.” Jathan led her over to a corner, where a staircase led up to the next
floor. The crowd was much thinner here.

Jathan fetched her a goblet of wine punch. “Sorry about
that. They weren’t supposed to come to this, but I guess Arrigo just couldn’t
pass up the opportunity to show me up.” He leaned on the balustrade, looking
down at the dancers below. His foot tapped in time to the music.

Ailsa swallowed a sip of wine. “He didn’t. You’re a much
better dancer than he is. Better than any of them, really. I was enjoying the
ball before . . .”

Jathan turned back to her and grinned. “Well, if you’d
really rather dance with me than the real princes, the night’s still young.”

Ailsa took another sip of her punch. Actually, she’d been
thinking of leaving early. It wasn’t that late. Surely she could walk herself
home and Jathan could stay and enjoy the rest of the ball. She wasn’t sure she
could anymore. “Not . . . not yet.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Why not?”

Ailsa walked over to the railing and looked down. She was
invisible to the dancers below up here. Just the way she liked it. “Everyone
will just stare at me again.”

Jathan’s grin grew wider. “Well, you’re beautiful. Well
worth staring at. So what?”

Ailsa turned back to him and blinked in disbelief. Well,
being the son of the emperor, even the adopted son, maybe he’d just gotten used
to it. “I hate being the center of attention. It makes me feel . . . unsafe.”

Jathan’s smile faded. He reached out and took her hand,
rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “I promise you, Ailsa. You will always
be safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His grin flashed. “Besides, they’re
all your friends. What have you got to be afraid of from them?”

Ailsa blinked again. What indeed? It wasn’t like King Ewart
would ever know about this ball or that she’d danced with all four imperial
princes in one evening. She smiled, glad to get part of the earlier lighthearted
mood back. She even attempted a wink, although that turned out to be harder
than Jathan made it look. “Then let’s dance some more.”

Jathan escorted Ailsa back to her grandmother’s door. He
bowed over her hand. “Thank you for a magical evening.”

Ailsa smiled at the small pun. “Thank you.” She looked down
and then back up to meet his eyes. “I almost asked you to take me home early
after . . . after your brothers left. I’m glad I didn’t. I had fun.”

Jathan gripped her hand a little tighter. “I’m glad you didn’t
let them ruin your evening. You can’t give them—or anyone, really—that kind of
power over your happiness.”

Ailsa blinked at him as if this were some strange new idea
to her. “Maybe not. Thanks again.” She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss
on the cheek.

Jathan stilled at the tingle of electricity that followed
the butterfly press of her lips. He drew back and saw that she’d felt it too.
He smiled and winked at her to lighten the mood. “See you day after tomorrow,
then. Goodnight, Ailsa.”

“Goodnight.”

Jathan climbed back into the carriage for the short drive
back to the imperial palace. He wondered about that little electric shock. He’d
never felt anything exactly like that before—and he’d kissed more than one girl.
Not a peck on the cheek, either. Was it some effect of their shared magic? Or
something else? And did it matter?

He certainly liked Ailsa well enough. Why not? She was
beautiful and smart. That gorgeous honey-blonde hair. Marvelous to see that
done up so that it could hang loose about her shoulders, not restrained by that
braid she wore most of the time. Not to mention her figure. He smiled at the
memory. He hadn’t realized before tonight just what was being hidden by those
student robes. And she danced so gracefully, too. Even her shyness was charming.
His smile turned into a frown.
Wonder why she’d say that being the center of
attention made her feel unsafe, though. That’s odd.
And foreign to Jathan,
who’d often been accused of craving the limelight. Well, maybe he could
accommodate her shyness by keeping that light on himself. He wouldn’t mind that
at all.

Whoa.
Better not get ahead of himself. What was he
doing thinking of
Princess
Ailsa in those terms? They were fellow
students. Friends, he hoped. But there was little chance they’d ever be more
than that. She was a real, true princess. Likely reserved for a real prince.
Not an adopted counterfeit like him.

Jathan scowled. Could her father or his already have plans
in the works for some such alliance? That was how things were often done among
the royal families. Artair was already betrothed, but Rishiart and Arrigo weren’t.
Rish might almost be good enough for her—almost. But Rish’s destiny was to be
the imperial diplomat. He was already away almost as much as he was home in
Terranion. That’d be a very lonely life for his wife.

Jathan clenched his fists. He didn’t think he could stand it
if Father proposed Arrigo as a husband for Ailsa. No. That was unthinkable.

~

Ailsa lit her bedside candle and slipped out into the front
room, trying not to disturb her grandmother. She’d barely had time to read Sav’s
latest letter before the ball, and no time to decode the rest of it. Since she was
still too keyed up to sleep anyway, this seemed to be a good time to do it,
when she could read it in private. She just hoped Grandmama’s library included
the right book.

 There. On the top shelf, a book of love poems. A little
shiver went down her spine as she set the candle down and reached for the book.
She flipped to the page and ran her finger down to the passage.

I love most of all what you inspire me to be.

Ailsa dropped the book on the small desk. She felt as if her
heart was in a vise, being squeezed slowly. The quote was wonderful and
terrible at the same time.  
Oh, hells, Sav. No pressure. Just everything you
are depends on me and my answer. How do I deal with this?
This wasn’t what
she needed to hear right now. She’d asked him to court her by mail, but was it
so hard for someone to just value her for herself, not how she was related to
anyone
else? A tear slid down her cheek and she choked back a sob.

“Now, what are you doing up—and weeping—in the middle of the
night?” Grandmama asked.

Ailsa whirled. Grandmama stood behind a green ball of mage
light that hovered at about waist height. “I . . . I didn’t mean to wake you. I
. . .”

Grandmama came forward and patted her shoulder. “I’ve lived
alone in this house for a long time, ever since your grandfather died. I’d hear
a mouse stirring in the kitchen, girl. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Ailsa struggled to formulate an answer. Everything seemed to
need too much explanation. She couldn’t find a place to start.

“Is it something in this letter? You didn’t seem upset by it
this afternoon.” Grandmama picked up Sav’s letter, which was sitting on the
desk. She read through the letter, filled with small news about doings in Far
Terra and Sav and Ailsa’s friends. Her eyes narrowed when she got to the bottom
and the coded message. She picked up the book Ailsa had dropped, scanned down
the page and then looked up. “And why is a prince of Far Terra sending love
poems to my granddaughter?”

Ailsa gasped. “You know about our code?”

Grandmama shook her head and sighed. “I’ve been teaching
since before your mother was born. I’ve trained every green mage now living and
taught other subjects as well. Think I haven’t seen just about every trick in
the book at one time or another?”

Ailsa tugged on her braid, focusing on the simplest question.
“Does that mean the king—or whoever is reading our mail . . . ?”

Grandmama sat down on a bench and drew Ailsa down beside
her. “He hasn’t spent most of his life trying to teach teenagers who had their
minds on something else most of the time. I doubt he’s any wiser. Now, I think
it’s time you tell me what’s really going on.”

“I . . . It’s complicated.”

“Then it’s probably best if you start at the beginning,”
Grandmama said.

Ailsa took a deep breath and then told her grandmother about
Prince Savyon’s unexpected proposal, her confusion, and her decision to wait
and find out what she could do, first. She felt lighter. It was a huge relief
to get it out in the open and have someone to talk to about it. “I had no idea
. . . I never expected that I’d be a green mage. If I turn out to be powerful
at all, I don’t see how I can turn my back on that. But I don’t want to hurt Sav,
either. Or give him up. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, well. I would say that so far, you’ve handled this
exactly right. There’s no need to rush into anything. You told him that you
wanted a year before making your choice.”

Ailsa gave a sad little chuckle that was almost a sob. “But
then I still have to choose between magic and Sav. What I really want is both.
And that’s something I can’t have.”

“Well, now. That depends on many things.”

Ailsa grabbed her braid and absently chewed on the end. “No
it doesn’t. The barons of Far Terra are too nervous about their dependence on
mages to help make the desert green. They’ll never accept a mage as a queen.”
She snorted. “Just look at Papa and Mama.”

Grandmama pulled the braid from Ailsa’s hands and smoothed
it behind her back. “I’ve lived a lot longer than you. I’ve seen many things
that ‘would never happen’ change in my time. Not so long ago women were not
permitted to study at the Institute. Then, a few were allowed, but only to
study as healers. Then more. Now, well, the next master will be a woman, though
she
is
a rare double mage, both wind and water. Our empress herself is a
healer—and no one’s asked her to give that up, least of all the emperor. Though,
of course, her other duties have constrained her practice. Still, all that only
happened because a succession of women decided not to accept the bounds as others
set them.”

Ailsa blinked. Was it possible to change things in Far Terra?
Almost certainly. They’d changed dramatically just since her father’s short
reign. In her lifetime? That much? Of that, she wasn’t so sure. Father had
failed, after all. Or . . . no. Father had decided not to try, not to fight.

“Now, you don’t need to decide anything right now,”
Grandmama went on. “At the end of a year, you should have a much better idea
what you really want. If, at that time, you still want both, then it seems to
me you’ll have two choices. You can accept the way things are and live your
life within the limits set by others—choosing one or the other. Or . . . you
can choose to push those limits until they expand to fit you.”

Ailsa bit her lip. “That won’t be easy.”

“Perhaps not. But it may not be as hard as it looks to you right
now, either. In my experience, sometimes all it takes is to be the right person
at the right time—say, a powerful green mage in a country desperate for that
kind of magic—and with enough courage to seize the moment.”

“It’s not just my decision, though, is it?”

“Well, now. That depends how you look at it. True, Prince
Savyon will have to decide what he values most—you or peace with his barons. But,
if you’ve decided that’s what you really want, and he’s not willing to support
you—well, that’s part of your answer, isn’t it?”

Ailsa picked up Sav’s letter from the desk. “I still don’t
know how to answer this.”

Grandmama chose another book from the shelves and flipped
through the pages until she found the one she wanted. “Try this.”

The verse she pointed to read:

We must truly learn to belong to ourselves before we can
belong to anyone else.

“That’s perfect, Grandmama. That’s exactly what I tried to
explain to Sav.”

“Then you just hold to that and don’t let anyone stampede
you into making a decision before you’re ready. Anyone.”

~

Jathan started down the corridor toward his rooms. He
stopped and turned back toward the palace kitchens. Might as well pick up a
snack first. Something to drink, too. After all, he’d been dancing most of the
night and he hadn’t paused for refreshments except that once. He’d enjoyed
dancing with Ailsa too much to stop for long.

He rounded the corner before realizing that all three of his
stepbrothers had apparently had the same idea. There they were, sitting around
the smaller table with what looked like their second—no third—bottle of wine.
Perfect
.

Arrigo looked up. “Quite a little doll, that friend of
yours. A tad short, but otherwise . . .” He waved his hands in the air,
indicating an hourglass figure.

Jathan drew in a deep breath and let it go before
responding. “She’s not a doll. She’s a mage. And she deserves your respect.”

Arrigo smirked. “How sweet. Defending your little
girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—”
I wish she was. I wish she could be.
He didn’t often wish he was really one of the imperial princes.

Rishiart cut through the budding argument. “Arrigo, give it
a rest.”

Arrigo turned to his older brother. “What? I’ve just paid
her a compliment.” He turned back to Jathan. “The other young ladies weren’t
half bad, either. If that’s typical, no wonder you’re so devoted to your
studies. Maybe we should make time for the student balls more often.”

Jathan thought of the stricken look on Ailsa’s face when he’d
escorted her upstairs for a glass of punch. He hadn’t paid enough attention at
the time, but in retrospect he could see that she really had been afraid. “Leave
her alone, Arrigo. You three already almost ruined her evening. I’d say that’s
enough damage—even for you.”

Arrigo stood up. “Ruined her evening? More likely that was
you, sulking. Or maybe she just missed more polished partners after we left.
Next time we should stay longer.”

With a growl, Jathan put his head down and rushed at his
stepbrother. Arrigo was bigger and better trained. Jathan’s only chance against
Arrigo was to hit him hard before he had a chance to prepare for it. Jathan
could already tell he wasn’t going to succeed this time. Arrigo was braced,
fist clenched to meet Jathan’s charge. Nevertheless, Jathan charged ahead until
he was brought up short by Artair, grabbing him around the shoulders and
holding him back. Arrigo took a step forward before Rish wrapped him up and
restrained him.

“Kill it, both of you,” Artair said. “Keep it up and you’re
going to attract attention. I, for one, don’t want to try to explain how you
both got black eyes.”

“They already have attracted attention.” The emperor sighed.
“What’s going on this time?”

Arrigo shook off Rish’s restraint. “Nothing. Jathan’s just
over-reacting again.”

“If he over-reacted, you surely kept egging him on,” Rish
put in.

Arrigo turned around. “Whose side are you on?”

Rishiart held his hands out and backed away. “I’m on the
side of you two finally growing up enough to stop tweaking each other at every
turn. That got old before you ever hit puberty. To be honest, you’re the one
that’s always trying to stir the pot. Just what was the point of talking us
into making an appearance at the student ball?”