energy. And they spoke of things foreign to Rin, other towns and families, castles and gowns, music and dancing. She did not know whom to imitate or what to say, and the dizziness of so many Rooms and the feeling of being buried inside a stone beast was overwhelming. Rin ended up shrugging a lot until she finally just lay down on her bed and shut her eyes.
She missed the breeze moving over her skin. She wished she might look up and see stars popping through a canopy of pines and feel nothing but the chill goodness of a night forest, the warmth of Ma at her side, the slumber breathing of her family all around.
Instead she heard whispers.
“Relative of someone important, I gather, or why else is she here?”
“Do you think she’s dim-witted, how she hardly speaks?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Her Majesty’s never had more than four waiting women. This one’s unnecessary.”
“It’ll be nice to have an extra hand till Cilie comes back, though I could wish she wasn’t yet another rough girl.”
“How did Cilie secure her post? I never heard.”
“She’s from one of the east provinces—a poor girl. There was some sad story involved, and you know how the queen crumbles for the sad stories.”
“I could wish Her Majesty had a little more backbone, to tell the truth.”
“When does Cilie come back? Perhaps she knows the new girl.”
“Oh, I doubt the new girl is from the east. If I had my guess, I’d say she’s Forest born.”
Chapter 4
O ver the next few days, Rin saw little of Razo and Dasha, and had the extraordinarily odd experience of spending most of her days under a roof. Waiting women served the queen, but Rin only glimpsed Queen Anidori coming and going, while she had her fill of the other women.
They seemed competent, though they spent a tremendous amount of time talking before performing any duty, asking another’s opinion how to do this or that, or ought they do this instead? And did anyone else catch a gander of that new chamber minister with the broad shoulders? And wouldn’t another night of music in the grand chamber be just the thing?
Rin watched and listened, and found ways to be useful.
“Look at that spot! She’ll never complain, but I know this is Her Majesty’s favorite dress.”
Rin took the dress back to the laundry-mistress.
“Tomorrow’s the queen’s riding day, and that stable-master hasn’t replaced the left stirrup yet, I’ll wager.”
Rin went to the stables and watched the stablehands at work, and when no one noticed her, she fixed the stirrup herself.
“Where’s that button? I swear I had it right here. Look at that, just about to sew on a new button and it up and walks away.”
In Rin’s vast experience as an aunt, no object ever walked away but it had help from a child. She slipped into the adjoining nursery, where the queen’s son, Tusken, played with pale wooden blocks. He had a mass of wavy fair hair tumbling around his face, and cheeks so round and kissable they seemed like peaches ripe for plucking.
“Hello, Tusken,” she whispered, kneeling beside the prince and kissing his cheeks a few times because she could not help it. He was nearly two years old but still wonderfully chubby, and her heart strained for her little ones back in the Forest.
She held up both of her hands. “How many hands do I have? Let’s count. One, two. Now let’s count yours.”
He held up his hands and no button fell out, but he kept his mouth curiously shut.
“Good boy. Now let’s count teeth.”
She opened wide her mouth, and he did the same. Inside his cheek, something gleamed. She scooped it out with her finger.
“Oh dear, you could choke on that. Buttons aren’t food, lamby. We only put food in our mouths.”
She helped him stack his blocks and cheered when he knocked them down. Then she returned to the other ladies, placing the button on the table.
“Hello, there it is! Where’d you find it, Rin? Eww . . . why is it wet?”
Rin decided she’d keep a
She missed the breeze moving over her skin. She wished she might look up and see stars popping through a canopy of pines and feel nothing but the chill goodness of a night forest, the warmth of Ma at her side, the slumber breathing of her family all around.
Instead she heard whispers.
“Relative of someone important, I gather, or why else is she here?”
“Do you think she’s dim-witted, how she hardly speaks?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Her Majesty’s never had more than four waiting women. This one’s unnecessary.”
“It’ll be nice to have an extra hand till Cilie comes back, though I could wish she wasn’t yet another rough girl.”
“How did Cilie secure her post? I never heard.”
“She’s from one of the east provinces—a poor girl. There was some sad story involved, and you know how the queen crumbles for the sad stories.”
“I could wish Her Majesty had a little more backbone, to tell the truth.”
“When does Cilie come back? Perhaps she knows the new girl.”
“Oh, I doubt the new girl is from the east. If I had my guess, I’d say she’s Forest born.”
Chapter 4
O ver the next few days, Rin saw little of Razo and Dasha, and had the extraordinarily odd experience of spending most of her days under a roof. Waiting women served the queen, but Rin only glimpsed Queen Anidori coming and going, while she had her fill of the other women.
They seemed competent, though they spent a tremendous amount of time talking before performing any duty, asking another’s opinion how to do this or that, or ought they do this instead? And did anyone else catch a gander of that new chamber minister with the broad shoulders? And wouldn’t another night of music in the grand chamber be just the thing?
Rin watched and listened, and found ways to be useful.
“Look at that spot! She’ll never complain, but I know this is Her Majesty’s favorite dress.”
Rin took the dress back to the laundry-mistress.
“Tomorrow’s the queen’s riding day, and that stable-master hasn’t replaced the left stirrup yet, I’ll wager.”
Rin went to the stables and watched the stablehands at work, and when no one noticed her, she fixed the stirrup herself.
“Where’s that button? I swear I had it right here. Look at that, just about to sew on a new button and it up and walks away.”
In Rin’s vast experience as an aunt, no object ever walked away but it had help from a child. She slipped into the adjoining nursery, where the queen’s son, Tusken, played with pale wooden blocks. He had a mass of wavy fair hair tumbling around his face, and cheeks so round and kissable they seemed like peaches ripe for plucking.
“Hello, Tusken,” she whispered, kneeling beside the prince and kissing his cheeks a few times because she could not help it. He was nearly two years old but still wonderfully chubby, and her heart strained for her little ones back in the Forest.
She held up both of her hands. “How many hands do I have? Let’s count. One, two. Now let’s count yours.”
He held up his hands and no button fell out, but he kept his mouth curiously shut.
“Good boy. Now let’s count teeth.”
She opened wide her mouth, and he did the same. Inside his cheek, something gleamed. She scooped it out with her finger.
“Oh dear, you could choke on that. Buttons aren’t food, lamby. We only put food in our mouths.”
She helped him stack his blocks and cheered when he knocked them down. Then she returned to the other ladies, placing the button on the table.
“Hello, there it is! Where’d you find it, Rin? Eww . . . why is it wet?”
Rin decided she’d keep a
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