Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (19 page)

 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The day of Christiana and Phillip’s wedding arrived. A beautiful spring morning greeted the inhabitants of the Imperial Palace; pale, cool and clear with that overlay of almost transparent color that hints at the promises of summer’s glory.

When Jenevra dismissed the Shadow Flight from their morning’s training run, she lingered for some time with Brogan. He had been quick to understand what she was asking him to do. “No-one else is to know, Brogan. Not even Bernardo.” Jenevra was coldly serious. “We’re unraveling a potentially treasonous plot against the Emperor here. This is how he wants us to proceed. Just the Emperor, you and I know about this.” She looked Brogan coolly in the eye. “The Flight must have everything ready for a swift departure, without actually knowing they’re going to do it.” She paused, thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s how we should be at all times; prepared to go into immediate action. Maybe that’s how you can get them ready. Explain that as the Shadow Flight will be officially invested tonight, we will be on guard immediately; this is the start of how we will continue.”

Brogan nodded. Rubbing a hand through his graying beard he thought out loud. “Will you require us to escort you in tonight, Captain? Like an Honor Guard, to present the Flight to the Emperor.”

Looking around the practice field where they were standing, Jenevra’s eyes ranged across the area; taking in other groups of Imperial guards working out, training. “I think having you all with me might be too much. Maybe just a small group, an honor guard like you said.” She flashed Brogan a dark look. “Just make sure Theiss isn’t part of it. And if D’Agostino’s involved, have a word with him first.”

Sergeant Brogan grinned, saluted sharply, and marched away briskly to put the Shadow Flight on active status.

Jenevra wandered across the field towards the barns, pausing briefly on her way to watch a group of archers from Raik’s Border Patrol at target practice. Coming first to the gray horse she’d ridden from Frann, she stopped for a moment, rubbing the velvety nose, talking quietly to him. He nudged gently at her, looking for a treat. “Nothing here, boy,” she murmured. “I’ll bring you something later.”

She turned, hearing footsteps coming in to the stables. It was the young man she had hoped to find.

“Your Highness,” he bowed awkwardly, arms full of hay.

Jenevra looked at him, pensively. “What’s your name?”

“Laio, Your Highness.”

“How old are you, Laio?”

“I’m seventeen, Your Highness. Almost eighteen, though.”

Jenevra considered. “Do you have many duties here in the stables, Laio?”

“Just the same as all the other stable boys, Your Highness: cleaning out the horses, putting fresh hay, feed and water in; the usual things.”

“You like horses?” She smiled gently at his vigorous nod. “What if I asked the Master of Horse if you could be the new groom for my Imperial Flight, Laio? Do you think you could handle it? It would be a lot of work, at least eighty horses. Not that many yet, but eventually.”

Laio’s eyes were shining with excitement, but he thought about his answer. “Your Highness, I would be honored to look after your horses, but it would need more than just me. I’m sure the Master of Horse would know someone better to be in charge.”

Jenevra also knew the Master of Horse, and knew that he would place someone in her Flight who would report everything she did to him. He wasn’t really a political creature; he just owed his own position to the Chancellor and reported everyone’s comings and goings as a matter of course. She shook her head at Laio. “I don’t want someone else looking after the Flight’s horses, Laio. I want you. I’ll talk to Master Alvaro and tell him. I want you to pick two or three friends you can trust … and I mean really trust, Laio. If I find anyone reporting my Flight’s actions to anyone other than me, I will consider it treason, and so will the Emperor. Is that clear?”

Laio’s smile was almost bright enough to light up the dark interior of the stable. “Yes, Your Highness. I have two friends I can count on here.”

“Good,” Jenevra began to move out of the stable, rubbing the gray’s nose one more time. “Are all of my Flight’s horses stabled in here right now, Laio?”

“No, Your Highness. Most of them are, but I know some of the horses from Captain Pichot’s Flight are still in that barn.”

Jenevra smiled. “I’m going to talk to Master Alvaro about transferring you to my service, Laio. You find your friends, and make this place ready for some new arrivals. Remember, my Flight has to be ready to leave at any time. Day or night, if I send to you, our horses and equipment need to be ready and waiting.” Laio nodded eagerly. “Laio, consider yourself Chief Groom of the Shadow Flight.”

As Laio whooped happily and dashed off to find his friends, Jenevra walked swiftly to find Master Alvaro, Master of Horse. A small man, Jenevra knew his size was totally deceptive: he possessed great strength in his wiry frame. She had seen him control huge horses that some of the largest men she knew couldn’t handle; he was not a man to be underestimated.

Although he was in essence the Chancellor’s man, Alvaro had always respected the Imperial Family, mainly because of their respect for horses. Invariably treating the charges in his stables with more concern than he did the men working for him, Alvaro would look considerately on anyone whose love for horses was genuine. It was one of the reasons he liked Jenevra. Even as a small child she had loved horses, and had been good with them. That made Jenevra’s task a little easier as she explained why she wanted Laio for her Flight. “He’s good, Master Alvaro. He’s a natural with them as far as I can see. I’ve seen him with my horse, and I like the way he handles him.”

“Aye,” Alvaro agreed; head down as he examined a horse’s leg in front of him. “The boy is a natural, as you say.”

“Laio’s young enough that I know I’m not taking one of your more experienced men away from you; he can grow into the position.”

Looking up from the hoof he’d been checking, Master Alvaro squinted at the Imperial Princess. “He’s very inexperienced for all that, Highness.” His voice was dry and quiet, the voice of a man who spent much of his life soothing animals with gentleness. “Are you sure you don’t want one of the more senior grooms?”

“No, thanks; I really think young Laio will be the right choice. I trust him. He knows to come to you if there’s anything beyond his knowledge.” She smiled reassuringly at Alvaro. “Also, I want him to bring at least two others with him.” She held up her hand. “I’ve already told him who to bring, Master Alvaro. You have plenty of youngsters around here; you can spare me three of them. Oh, and I’ve asked him to move the remaining horses belonging to the men in my Flight into that barn. I believe they were all from Captain Pichot’s Flight?”

“Hmm. Yes. Captain Pichot. Yes, that’s a good idea, Highness.” Master Alvaro was one of the few other people Jenevra knew of who didn’t like Reiff Pichot. She remembered once, she had been watching Reiff Pichot enter the Imperial grounds by horse, and had caught a look of disgust on Master Alvaro’s face as he waited to take the horse to the stables. When she had asked Alvaro about it later he had answered her in his usual spare manner. “I don’t have time for folk who can’t treat their animals right.” They had never discussed it since, but they knew they agreed in their opinion of Reiff Pichot.

Standing upright, Master Alvaro wasn’t even as tall as Jenevra. Scratching at his head with the hoof pick, he slapped his other hand on the horse he’d just been examining.

“Consider it all taken care of, Your Highness. Laio is yours, along with two others. That barn is now the official home of the Shadow Flight.” His eyes brightened. “I take it you’ll be looking for some new horses?” He rubbed his hands together. “Matching color or specific breed?”

“You know me too well, Master Alvaro.” Jenevra grinned back at him. “What would you recommend?” They strolled around the stables discussing various qualities of different breeds of horses, happily engrossed in their mutual interest until a maid from the Palace came to interrupt them; reminding Jenevra that it was time to prepare for Christiana and Phillip’s wedding.

Stopping briefly at the armory to check on the Flight’s equipment and uniforms, Jenevra raced back to her rooms. The morning was already gone. The wedding would take place in three hours, and by the end of the night she hoped she would be out of the Palace again.

The streets of Salanova had been decked with banners, streamers and flowers once again. The people were ecstatic that they had two celebrations in one week, and they intended to make the most of it. A coronation and a royal wedding both taking place within days of each other, when most citizens had only known the one Emperor, Reiff Marissun, the deaths of his sons, his death and the stewardship of his widow. Finally, the city could truly rejoice in its position as capital of the Empire.

The glasshouses of the Palace had been pillaged once more, and spring flowers were everywhere, bright whites, yellows and greens, with splashes of blue and violet; in the trees lining the streets, hanging down from windows or spilling from large baskets. Houses trailed large banners in a multitude of colors and flags of Imperial crimson fluttered from their windows and gables. The sky was clear, punctuated by small wisps of cloud, trailing across the sky like ribbons. The air was cool, kept from coldness by the bright sunshine: a perfect day for crowds.

As the eldest male of the Couressime family, Stephan was waiting to escort Christiana to her wedding. Jenevra arrived at the Temple with Richard. Christiana had obviously conspired with Serena Massili over Jenevra’s gown for the occasion, and had even sent one of her own maids to assist with fitting Jenevra into it according to their exacting standards. As Serena and Rafael Massili arrived at the Temple, Serena even smiled at Jenevra and only made one minute adjustment to the ensemble.

Apart from the tight lacing, even Jenevra couldn’t find much to complain about with the outfit. She had even thought fleetingly that she might look quite pretty in it. Christiana had chosen a pale shade of blue for her, with just a hint of violet about it. The color suited her, bringing out her eyes, without being the vivid aquamarine that Christiana favored. Made of a fine satin, the gown had intricate embroidery all over it, in several slightly lighter and darker shades, giving an impression almost of water as the light caught the different colors. The bodice was tightly fitted and low cut, to Jenevra’s disgust; caught on the shoulders by thick soft ribbons which then streamed down the back of the gown onto the short train that flowed behind it. Her dark hair was flowing loose down her back, the front pieces pulled back and held by a diamond coronet. There was an overall impression of spring and lightness about it—an innocence: but no one was going to use that word in Jenevra’s hearing.

Richard had chosen (or had chosen for him—after all this was his twin’s wedding) a deeper blue, which looked good with his blond hair. Well fitted jacket and breeches with glossy boots drew admiring glances from many of the ladies in the Temple. Allegra Dhorani, Misha’s sister, gave him just a brief smile. “Must be waiting for Stephan,” Jenevra whispered mischievously. Richard’s lips twitched.

Chancellor Menzetti and his wife, Graea, were there too. As Jenevra nodded towards them, Graea Menzetti smiled sweetly at her. There was something about her that Jenevra was finding intriguing. The gesture she had made at the coronation; her obviously friendly manner. Jenevra made a mental note to speak to Graea Menzetti later.

Arrilia Neilla arrived with Phillip. He took his place at the front of the Temple, next to the High Priest. Always the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, Phillip was usually dressed in black. Today, dressed in white for his wedding, Jenevra thought he just looked weird. Not that it didn’t suit him; it just wasn’t the Phillip she was used to.