Rook and Shadow (Salarian Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Roses are red, violets are blue

  Salara’s eyes reflect indescribable hues.

  Violets are blue, and roses are red.

  Everyone here agrees with what I said.

  Violets and roses. Red, purple, and blue.

  Colors mean more when reflected by you.

  He stepped back into the crowd. Lady Alma came forward, shorter than everyone in the room and as wide as she was tall. Her four chins jiggled as she walked.

  Two courtiers pulled back my velvet blankets and satin sheets, and I stepped onto the carpet. Lady Alma raised an eyebrow at my wrinkled nightgown and tangled hair. I ignored her questioning gaze and walked to the center of the room. Light from every window blinded me as I stepped into the sunny spotlight. My hair reflected even more colors onto the wall, a dark rainbow of blue, purple, and green that drowned out the pink light from the wig.

  Lady Alma snapped her fingers. Silver sparkles swirled around me until I could see outlines of the crowd, but no details. My nightgown disappeared. A red breakfast gown with a high collar and frilly sleeves replaced it. I gained two inches in height as shoes materialized under my feet. Jewelry appeared on my wrists, neck, and ears. My hair rippled in a breeze until the tangles from the sea wind became gentle waves hanging down my back.

  The sparkles dissolved, and the courtiers gasped and applauded. Sir Quill pulled the feather from his cap, dipped it in the inkwell balanced on top of his head, and wrote. I followed Mother out of the room. Everyone bowed as I passed. Lady Alma walked directly behind me, and the courtiers trailed behind her in order of importance. The string quartet’s music faded as we walked down the hall, and a trio of flutes replaced it when we entered the breakfast room.

  Father stood in the doorway. Mother took his right arm, and I took his left. Courtiers pulled out chairs for us at the breakfast table. We sat next to each other, facing a wall of windows with a view of the sea.

  “I trust you had productive meetings this morning, Nicholas?” Mother said.

  Father nodded and took a bite of oatmeal.

  “Because you missed waking our daughter. Again. On the eve of her birthday.”

  The low murmur of a crowd entering the room obscured his mumbled reply. Mother glared at them, and everyone fell silent. They stood behind a velvet ribbon held by guards and watched us eat.

  “Is there any news from the Colonial Delegation?” I asked.

  Perhaps they were delayed by bad weather and sent a message?

  Father shook his head.

  “I insist you sanction them if they do not arrive in time for our treasure’s birthday celebration,” Mother said.

  “It isn’t their fault they’ve been delayed by the Dragon!” I said.

  “Piracy is hardly suitable breakfast conversation, Salara,” she hissed.

  Father ate his oatmeal and read a scroll of parchment.

  A courtier escorted the crowd out of the room. A new group replaced them. I pulled a rose out of a vase and twirled it between my fingers. The Dragon was a human pirate, but I had overheard enough conversations to know he was causing far more trouble than most. He sank several official Salarian trade vessels last month, in spite of a naval escort. They called him the Dragon because he set the ships on fire before sending them to the bottom of the ocean. If he attacked the Colonial Delegation, I could only imagine the trouble it would cause.

  I couldn’t do more than imagine it because I was never allowed into council meetings.

  “So your meetings were productive this morning, Father?” I asked. “Did you work on the new treaty?”

  “The treaty is finished,” Father said.

  “Unless the Delegation is late for Salara’s birthday celebration. And then you will sanction them,” Mother said.

  Another crowd entered. Their whispers created a quiet buzz.

  “What does sanctioning them mean?”

  I leaned forward, trying to look at the parchment in Father’s hands.

  “We are not sanctioning anyone, Ingrid,” Father said.

  “Unless they are late,” Mother said.

  “The Dragon stole another shipment of salt. Castana is threatening to take action against us if a shipment does not reach them by the end of the month. The guest list for a birthday party is the least of our concerns.”

  I sat up straight, trying to look grown up.

  “What action would Castana take?”

  “Just raise taxes or something,” Mother said.

  She dismissed Father with a wave of her hand and turned to me.

  “Do you have your lines for the opera memorized?”

  “Yes, but what about the sanctions? What about Castana?”

  “That really doesn’t concern you.”

  “I’m heir to the throne. I need to-”

  “Get ready for your portrait sitting,” Mother said.

  She stood. I looked at Father. He shrugged and turned back to his oatmeal.

  Typical.

  Chapter 2

  I followed Mother out of the room. Soldiers pushed the crowd back as I walked past them and turned towards Lady Alma’s studio. I flung the door open, not waiting for the footmen standing outside the room to do their job, and stomped into the room. Lady Alma raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Breakfast disagree with you?”

  “I’m trying to learn things, but they’re no help! They wouldn’t even explain what a sanction is! And Mother wants Father to put one on the colonies.”

  “A sanction is a kind of penalty,” Lady Alma said. “They would make the colony pay extra taxes on traded goods or some such thing. Your father would never impose a sanction so hastily.”

  Getting an answer to my question did little to improve my mood, but I made an effort to smile at her.

  I stepped onto a pedestal in the center of her studio, an octagonal room with walls covered by mirrors, shelves and drawers. The mirror in the corner behind her sewing table swung out and led to my secret passage. If Lady Alma knew about the tunnel, she never mentioned it. The enchanted ceiling transformed into a mirror, window, or painting of roses depending on what Lady Alma wanted. The walls could do the same. Bolts of fabric and spools of ribbons covered the floor. Chaos, but Lady Alma always found what she needed.

  Three blond noblewomen stood in the corner of the room using charms to polish emeralds. They wore pink plumes in their hair to match Lady Alma’s wig. Lady Alma told me their names yesterday, but I didn’t remember. With their matching outfits and identical hair color, I wasn’t even sure which was which.

  Lady Alma took the emeralds and fastened them in my hair. They cascaded down my back, held by magic. When my hair rippled, the gems moved with it as if they weighed nothing at all.

  “Is it supposed to be the Ghone?” I asked, turning my head to see the back in the mirror. “Sapphires would be better to represent water.”

  Lady Alma fastened a salt charm around my neck to power the enchantment. She had decorated the flat, silver pendant with tiny gems.

  “It is whatever your mother decides it is, and the effect is delightful! Although your hair always makes gemstones look cheap.”

  Her assistants took this as their cue and spoke.

  “Your hair is like the Ghone reflecting a starry sky!”

  “Reflecting colors unknown onto the surface of our souls!”

  “Like salt in a stew, your beauty preserves us!”

  Lady Alma waited for the chorus to finish.

  “When do you think Divinia will come?” I asked.

  “It would be traditional for her to arrive tomorrow morning. But she also should have come to your tenth birthday. I wouldn’t count on her.”

  I stood silent as she snapped me into a floor length blue gown trimmed with white lace.

  “The blue makes your hair look darker than ever!” the assistants said.

  “It did the same at the fitting yesterday,” I muttered under my breath.

  Lady Alma winked at me.

  She didn’t need
help, but Mother insisted she have attendants. All the other artists of the castle had assistants and took apprentices when they found someone really talented. Lady Alma had yet to find anyone she considered worth dealing with long term.

  “What if the Dragon sinks the Colonial Delegation’s ship?” I asked.

  “They’ll send another ambassador.”

  She turned her attention from my dress to my face.

  “Weren’t we going to have sapphires draping down the gown?” I asked. “The front is a bit bare.”

  Lady Alma’s lips pursed together.

  “I don’t have any more gems that match this fabric.”

  “Nonsense, the museum sent a shipment.”

  She shook her head. I gasped.

  “The Shadow stole them, didn’t he? Is that why there’s so much extra fabric here? You’re stocking up just in case?”

  The noblewomen gasped and clutched their hearts.

  “Don’t start rumors, Princess,” Lady Alma said. “The museum simply forgot to send them.”

  But she shook her head at me as she walked behind her assistants. I nodded back, very slightly. The women assigned to help were always courtiers’ daughters appointed as a favor to their fathers. They were terrible gossips.

  I shivered.

  “Maybe some diamonds, then?”

  “I used all the diamonds for your opera costume. I do have rubies, but they won’t suit the blue at all. Lace might work, but all I have is the pattern I used yesterday.”

  I blushed at the humiliation. Wearing yesterday’s lace? For my birthday portrait?

  Lady Alma stared at the lace, then nodded.

  “If I layer this, no one will know. Don’t you dare mention it!”

  She glared at the assistants. They were all head and shoulders taller than her, but they stepped back as they met her gaze.

  “We won’t tell a soul,” the nearest girl whispered.

  Lady Alma waved her hands and added a few ruffles. Layered, the lace really did look like a different pattern.

  “Shadows only make you shine brighter!” an assistant said.

  “Salara’s eyes are the only sparkle she needs!”

  “The lace is layered like your many charms!”

  “Quiet,” Lady Alma said. She pulled a box seemingly from thin air and painted something sticky on my mouth.

  “Only Lady Alma’s genius could add to your lip’s rosiness!”

  I sighed.

  “Do you really think the Shadow-”

  “Hush. I’m not done with your lips.”

  There was no time for questions when she finished. A footman rushed me to the painting studio where the most experienced apprentice painters arranged my dress and hair under Lady Alma’s careful supervision. After one last adjustment, Lady Alma set Seda on my lap, and Mother swept into the room. Sir Bristle, Minister of the Brush, followed closely behind her. More apprentices followed him, carrying Mother’s easel and paints.

  Seda clawed at my dress, trying to escape. I kept smiling and pulled him closer. For this year’s portrait, I sat on a throne carved from a giant block of salt. More salt carvings filled the space, and they had even sprinkled it on the floor. At least it powered the enchanted candles they used to light the room.

  Seda dug his claw into my leg. I winced, but kept smiling. I had held him in every birthday portrait since I turned six, and he hated it as much as ever. If anyone knew why Seda did not age, they had never bothered to explain it to me. But then, most people assumed I wouldn’t understand anything about spells and charms since I couldn’t work them myself. I had read every book about magic in our library, but found no mention of an enchantment that would keep a kitten young for ten years. Even Lady Alma would not answer my questions about Seda.

  Mother, paintbrush in hand, stared at me while dabbing at the canvas in front of her. Sir Bristle hovered behind her holding her palette and an assortment of tools. His best apprentices, the finest painters in Salaria, and guest artists from surrounding countries worked behind them painting me onto cakes, boiled eggs, and smaller canvases.

  “Alma, I’d like to see the dress in green.”

  “She’ll look like wilted asparagus tossed out in the snow.”

  “Divinia wore green the day she blessed my daughter. The symbolism…”

  Lady Alma snapped her fingers. My dress turned green.

  “Sir Bristle, adjust the color of the dress while I examine the scene.”

  Sir Bristle snapped his fingers over his palette. Every other painter in the room did the same. Green paint replaced blue.

  The Fairy Divinia had blessed me and named me the day of my birth. According to tradition, that made her my Fairy Godmother. And according to tradition, she should visit me every once in a while and grant my heart’s desire. So far she had not even sent a calling card.

  I stared ahead, struggling to maintain my smile. Was she alright? Could harm come to fairies? Had the Dragon stopped her from traveling? He seemed to take more and more ships every day. Did fairies travel by ship?

  Pirates on our shores and bandits within them. Maybe she did not feel safe in Salaria. If she had sent a message by ship, it could easily have been intercepted.

  Mother walked to the back of the room and examined the work of the other painters. She stopped to address an apprentice with squinted eyes and frizzy red hair hunched over a medium sized canvas.

  “Who is this supposed to be?”

  “It is the Princess Salara, Your Highness.”

  Sir Bristle stopped correcting the color of my dress and approached them.

  “Is there a problem? I assure you, Your Highness, Lacquer is one of my best apprentices.”

  “Indeed? And has he learned how to draw a nose yet?”

  “I beg your pardon, Highness?”

  “Have you taught him to draw a nose, Sir Bristle? Because this painting, with a nose like that, is not my daughter.”

  Sir Bristle examined the painting and frowned.

  “I don’t understand, Your Highness. Until now, all of his work has been exemplary.”

  “Is this a joke to you, young man?” Mother grabbed the canvas and shook it in Lacquer’s face. “Do you think painting the Princess Salara is a joke?”

  Lacquer looked from me to the canvas.

  “I don’t understand the problem, Your Highness.”

  “Don’t understand the problem?”

  Sir Bristle bowed low.

  “Your Highness, perhaps he lacks the proper experience to do the Princess justice. Lacquer, you will paint eggs for the remainder of this session.”

  Lacquer opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. He bowed, collected his brushes, and moved to the back of the room where the youngest apprentices decorated boiled eggs. Mother handed his unfinished painting to a guard.

  “See to it that this is destroyed,” she said. “I will not have such an inaccurate portrayal of the Princess fall into the wrong hands.”

  She took a deep breath and turned back to me. I smiled and stared straight ahead, trying my best to look perfect. Mother picked up her brush.

  “I prefer blue, Lady Alma. Blue for the Salarian Sea and the Ghone. Blue and white. The sky and the fairy snow. Change her dress to blue.”

  Lady Alma winked at me and snapped her fingers. My dress shifted back to the original hue. Seda pawed at it and frayed the fabric. Lady Alma waved her hand and wove the threads back together until the fraying disappeared. The painters cleaned their brushes and changed the green paint back to blue with a snap of their fingers.

  Mother painted in silence. Sir Bristle examined the work of his apprentices and the guest artists when he was not filling in details for her while she examined the scene.

  I always had plenty of time to think during portrait sessions, which is the polite way to say they were dreadfully boring. I stared at the wall and let my mind drift. What would I do when I met Divinia? It would be against every tradition if she did not come to celebrate my coming of age. F
airies didn’t bless people often these days, but against all odds she had blessed me. What would I say? Thanks for the beauty and great voice?

  And what would I wish for?

  Right now, a more comfortable chair. Salaria’s most plentiful natural resource made terrible furniture. Mother gushed about the symbolism, but the grains and bumps pushed further into my legs the longer I sat. I was supposed to be the fairy queen during the fairy snow, a Salarian legend Mother loved to recreate in any way possible

  “Her lips aren’t quite right, Sir Bristle. Fix them while I examine the scene.”

  I realized I had stopped smiling. I grimaced at Sir Bristle. He frowned and continued painting.

  Both my legs were asleep by the time we finished. I had to lean against Lady Alma as we walked through the palace to my next engagement. Seda jumped out a window and climbed down a tree the moment I let him go. Lady Alma and I walked through the gardens to an ornate building so new the paint was still drying.

  Our new opera house.

  Sir Lefting, Minster of Opera, kissed my hand as I entered the stage.

  “I trust the plot has not changed again,” Lady Alma whispered. “I have designed three costumes for this already.”

  “I finished adding the remainder of Her Majesty’s revisions last night. Another costume will not be necessary.”

  Mother strode across the stage and sat in a chair at the front of the opera house. Sir Lefting ran forward to greet her. Backstage, Lady Alma snapped me into a white satin gown, which flared into a triangle starting at my armpits. She opened a gilded chest. A swarm of diamonds flew out and hovered just above my dress. As I moved, they followed. The dress rippled constantly even though there was no breeze backstage, and the diamonds followed the movements of the fabric.

  Lady Alma pulled my hair up with a wave of her hand and put a round silver hat over my head. She fastened a new salt crystal around my neck. It glowed white, providing the magic to keep the diamonds floating.

  “So I’m not a shepherdess in disguise anymore?”

  Lady Alma laughed.