Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (18 page)

“It’s brown, Chris … brown hair. How on earth can you get excited about it?” Jenevra was convinced that the stress of the upcoming marriage had finally addled her sister’s grip on reality.

“It’s not just brown! Are you crazy, Jenn? It’s got red and gold running all through it. Deep amber, honey, even black: it’s incredible hair.”

Standing to pour a goblet of water, Jenevra shook her head sadly at her beautiful sister. “You’ve totally lost it, Chris. This wedding has finally unhinged you.”

“Speaking of unhinged,” Christiana turned mock serious. “You didn’t look too good last night when Aleksander announced his son’s marriage.”

“I was fine.”

“You didn’t look fine. You looked shaken. Do you know Mikhail? I mean—”

“Look,” Jenevra cut her off impatiently. “I’ve already had this conversation with your twin, Mikyle Manvi and Captain Tessier, thank you. I don’t know why you’re all suddenly so interested in me.”

“Oh,” Christiana twirled the stem of her goblet in her hands, delicately. “So …?”

Jenevra sighed heavily. “So, nothing. Yes, I know Mikhail. No, there’s nothing between us.” The deep patches of red appearing on her cheekbones suggested that this was a lie, but Christiana was still treading carefully around her baby sister’s feelings, and let it pass without comment. “I’ve known him since the Island. I didn’t know he was a prince, and I certainly didn’t expect to see him here. Does that cover it?” She flopped back onto the long padded bench, tucking her feet up cross-legged. It was the truth, as far as it went, but it was all she was going to give her.

“Well, it sort of covers Mikhail … for now. We may come back to that later.” She gave her younger sister a very direct look. “What about Blaise Tessier?”

“What?” Jenevra frowned at her sister. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Christiana dripped sarcasm. “You think you’re the first one to be beguiled by him?”

“Beguiled?” Jenevra objected. “Me? I don’t think so.” Jenevra took a long drink of water, avoiding her sister’s stare.

“Jenn?” Christiana’s voice was soft, gentle even, as she leaned forward again. “Jenn, you don’t know much about men … not about men and women anyway”

“This is true,” Jenevra conceded ruefully, thinking about Misha’s kiss.

“If you’re going to fall in love with someone for the first time, don’t let it be Tessier. He’ll break your heart. He breaks everyone’s heart.”

“Yours?” Jenevra teased.

“Oh, mine, Lennia’s, Aunt Serena’s … even Aunt Neilla has been known to get a little misty over Captain Tessier. Most of the female population of this palace has fancied themselves in love with him at one time or another … and you’ll notice he never stays with anyone.”

“But how can he fool you all?” Jenevra spread her hands, plaintively. “He’s rude and offensive, arrogant, vain. It’s not like he’s the best looking man at court. He doesn’t have anything remarkable about him really. He’s just … sort of … well; he’s bloody annoying for the most part”

“And sexy? Dangerous? Funny? Intense? Take your pick.” Christiana offered. “He just makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the room when he looks at you … as though no-one else could be as gorgeous as you are at that moment.” She stopped, a faint pink tinge coloring her own cheeks. “Yes, well, I’m sure you’ve noticed for yourself. All I’m saying Jenn is don’t get too caught up with Tessier.”

Jenevra smiled at her sister. “Thanks. I don’t think it’s a problem, Chris. After all, I am the definition of the phrase “runt of the litter” to him. I’m simply not his type—all the gods be thanked—he’s made that transparently clear to anyone who’ll listen. He’s only ever interested in you sophisticated women at court anyway, so I reckon I’m pretty safe.” She grinned as she saw Christiana shaking her head in despair.

“Too late for you, little sister. I think you’re going to learn about Blaise Tessier the hard way. I just wish you’d gone through all this when you were fifteen; it’s so much easier then.”

“Don’t worry about me, Chris. You’ll be surprised how well I can take care of myself. You just focus on Phillip; that should be enough to keep you occupied. Does he know about this obsession you have for Tessier, anyway?”

She ducked the cushion Christiana threw at her.

The Couressime sisters talked until nightfall. It was the first time they had both been old enough to have an adult level conversation that wasn’t just an argument about Jenevra’s behavior; and they found they quite enjoyed each other’s company. Jenevra was relieved to discover that Christiana wasn’t quite as empty-headed as she’d always seemed. Being disgustingly pretty had made her create a persona that people expected her to be, which Christiana had actually found quite useful over the years. Her devotion to Phillip was unquestioned by anyone in the Imperial household, but it was only tonight that Jenevra saw how deeply genuine that love was, and wondered, rather doubtfully, if she would ever feel that way about any man.

Christiana, on the other hand, had never realized just how truly unconcerned Jenevra was with how she looked. She had also never known how Jenevra saw herself as a pale shadow compared to Christiana—Serena had chosen to share that tidbit with her earlier. Having been beautiful and admired as such since earliest childhood, Christiana couldn’t imagine how any pretty woman could not be aware of her own charms, but Jenevra all too obviously wasn’t. Tessier’s remarks about Jenevra’s appearance had only reinforced what Jenevra herself already believed.

As night fell, final preparations for the second Coronation Ball were taking place. Servants scurried about lighting huge pyramids of candles throughout the Palace, and guests began congregating in the huge throne room again. Jenevra was just relieved that it wasn’t another formal dinner. The Lord Chamberlain had merely crammed the smaller audience hall with long tables, groaning under the weight of food, where guests could help themselves as they wished.

After lighting the candles in Jenevra’s rooms, Anna, her maid, carried in another new gown; shimmering pewter colored silk cut in the same softer style as the green velvet gown. Quickly, she slipped into it, feeling far more comfortable than she had at the last two formal events.

Christiana’s maids had also arrived in Jenevra’s rooms, bearing everything they needed to make their Lady fit for the Emperor. A stunning gown of aquamarine satin, hugged every curve tightly. Phillip had sent her a complete set of jewelry for the occasion: sapphire and diamonds in a necklace and bracelets, which sparkled like small fires around her neck and wrists. A matching tiara crowned the glorious golden hair.

Jenevra let out a long low whistle. “Wow, Chris. That looks amazing. Phil should be speechless.”

Christiana twirled in front of the long mirror Serena had insisted be placed in Jenevra’s room. Smiling smugly, she had to agree with her sister. Critically, she looked at the gown Jenevra was dressed in and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I like it.” Jenevra clenched her jaw obstinately.

Christiana gave up. “Well, let’s just make the best of it then.” She turned Jenevra around again and re-laced the sides of the gown, much tighter than they had been. “That’s a little better,” she noted. “At least it’s not just hanging on you now.” She pulled the shoulders down some, exposing more of Jenevra’s neck and chest. Christiana sent another maid running back to her rooms to fetch the finishing touch, two long silver chains studded with large diamonds. One she looped several times and placed around Jenevra’s neck; the other was also looped and then pinned in place around Jenevra’s head like a coronet.

Christiana stood back. “Not perfect, but at least you’re not an absolute disaster.”

“Thanks for the affirmation, O gorgeous one!”

“You know, you’re not getting away with this tomorrow, Jenn.” Christiana called over her shoulder as they headed to the ball. “I helped Serena choose your gown, and you will wear it. Tomorrow you will stand out, like it or not.”

The evening didn’t go too badly. Christiana had given Jenevra some very wise advice as to how to avoid any serious confrontations. “Just keep dancing.” She had told her. “No-one expects you to talk when you’re dancing, and you can always find a point to spin off if the conversation turns tricky. And you can pick your partners; that’s always handy if you’re trying to avoid someone, you just tell them you promised someone else that dance, and disappear.”

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jenevra was amazed at how simply Christiana had laid out the strategy; and was doubly impressed when she managed to put it into action herself, and spent most of the evening hopping around the ballroom on the arm of one noble or another; managing to catch Phillip, Stephan and Richard for dances. Even Mikyle Manvi had accompanied her for several, as had Conall of Lorthia and his larger-than-life brother, Baran.

Mikhail had danced most of the evening with his betrothed, Artela, who was still beaming radiantly with happiness. On the one occasion he had managed to dance anywhere near Jenevra she had studiously avoided making eye contact with him; changing directions whenever he looked as though he might come close enough to talk.

Jenevra could see that Princess Artela had noticed his trying to attract her attention; and the hurt welling in the other girl’s eyes. Artela was fairly plain; homely was Serena’s word. Having spent much of her life feeling “homely” next to Christiana’s beauty, Jenevra really felt for Artela. Although Jenevra didn’t feel pretty, she really didn’t care too much; but she could see that Artela did, especially when her future husband was so obviously trying to catch another woman’s attention. As that dance ended, Artela fled the ballroom, looking for somewhere to be alone. Avoiding Misha, Jenevra followed her to a small terrace overlooking the practice field where Jenevra drilled with the Shadow Flight. Artela was gazing blindly into the dark courtyard.

“Princess?” Jenevra stepped out onto the terrace quietly, the gray gown rendering her almost invisible amongst the shadows.

Artela looked around in panic. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and find Jenevra in the gloom. Recognizing the Imperial Princess, Artela sank into a deep curtsey. “Your Imperial Highness.”

“Get up, Artela,” Jenevra grasped her arm gently. “I think we need to talk.”

Artela’s head hung. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Your Highness. He’s in love with you, not me. I will break the engagement.”

“What?” Jenevra was never patient with people who just gave up. “Artela, that’s not why I came after you.” She took a deep breath. Explaining again how she and Misha didn’t love each other was strangely painful. “Mikhail and I have known each other for a while. There has never been anything romantic between us, and I don’t expect that to change.”

Artela’s head came up slowly and, even in the darkness of the terrace, Jenevra could see hope mingled with disbelief. “Then why doesn’t he take his eyes off you, Your Highness?” Bitterness edged Artela’s voice. “Why has he spent this entire evening trying to move us closer to you on the dance floor? I’m not stupid, you know!” Anger made her bolder. “They all think I’m stupid. My father doesn’t ask my opinion about who I marry, just announces it, and I’m just supposed to go along, agreeing with it all. Poor, stupid, ugly Artela … she’s so lucky anyone wants her … even if it is only for political reasons.”

If she hadn’t seen how little Artela thought of herself, Jenevra would have been astounded at this outburst. As it was, she laughed quietly.

“Oh, that’s right. Go ahead and laugh Princess. You have everything … including the heart of the man I’m supposed to marry. What would you care?”

“Artela … that’s not it at all,” Jenevra sighed. “Listen to me carefully. I’m not going to repeat myself on this again for anyone else. There is nothing—get it—nothing between Mikhail and I, except friendship. The only reason he’s been looking for me tonight is that we had a pretty bad argument earlier today, and he’s trying to apologize. I’m just being awkward and making it difficult for him to do that by avoiding him.” She turned and leaned against the cold stone wall behind her. “Even if Mikhail wanted me, I don’t have an option of choosing him. Remember, just like you, when I marry, I go where the family needs me to go. Although I have to tell you, I have no plans to marry anyone any time soon.”

“Really?” Artela questioned artlessly. “Won’t it be announced tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night? What’s tomorrow night got to do with anything?”

“Isn’t it traditional?” Artela said. “Doesn’t the Emperor announce the marriages of all eligible members of the Imperial family on his own wedding night?”

Jenevra’s hands clutched at the wall behind her as she strove to keep her voice from shaking. Thankful for Artela’s choice of hiding place where the dark shadows hid her own face, she answered confidently. “I don’t think Phillip intends to keep all those mindless old traditions, Artela. He’s already dispensing with a few old customs, and bringing back some others that have been out of favor for a while.” She forced a light laugh. “Anyway, I think he’s going to be too busy with my sister to worry about marrying the rest of us off.”

With a forced effort at girlish camaraderie, Jenevra took Artela’s arm and pulled the other Princess back into the Palace with her. Depositing Artela back with her family, the princess marched over to Christiana and Phillip who were talking with Arrilia Neilla and King Corros of Diruthia. As she drew nearer, her headache grew again, piercing darts of pain flashed colors through her vision. Blinking to clear her sight, Jenevra saw that Phillip had noticed. Vaguely aware of his asking her if she needed to go outside, she reached out for his arm; the aura lifting slightly as they left the ballroom for the quiet terrace.

“You look terrible,” Phillip said bluntly. “Are you sure you can go through with this, Jenn? I mean, if it’s going to affect you this badly…”

“I’ll be fine.” Jenevra waved a dismissive hand, leaning against the cold stone wall. Rubbing a hand over her face, she gave him a pale smile. “I’m starting to recognize what’s happening with it now. It’s a warning. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to control it soon. Anyway,” she changed her tone. “That’s not why I was looking for you.” Jenevra poked a finger into Phillip’s chest. “What makes me mad is that you agreed to the Imperial Protector idea, knowing you’d pull it out from under me. That really stinks! I never expected that from you.”

Puzzled, but realizing that Jenevra was serious, Phillip looked around them. “Let’s walk, Jenn,” he led her down the steps and out into the elaborate formal gardens, where there were fewer people to overhear them. “You have my full attention now, dear cousin. Take it slowly, and explain exactly what it is you think I’m doing to you.” As she related the small conversation she’d had with Artela, he looked thoughtful. “So, you think I have a marriage ready to spring on you tomorrow?”

A sideways glance from Jenevra confirmed it as they paced along together.

“Several things aren’t right here,” he announced.

Jenevra looked at him questioningly, but remained silent.

“One,” he counted off on his fingers. “Artela thinks it’s happening. That means she’s at least heard someone talking about it. Someone we don’t know about … yet; but there can’t be too many contenders.” The flickering light of the torches lining the pathways threw shadows across his suddenly grim face. “Two … strangely, none of my Council has mentioned this “tradition” to me. In a group hardly renowned for their reticence at telling me what I should be doing, that is unusual enough to be suspect in itself. And three, there is no marriage. Good God, why would I inflict that on anyone!” Phillip was coldly angry, giving Jenevra a glimpse of the Emperor about to make his presence felt in the Empire. “Someone is trying to manipulate me, Jenn, and I don’t like that. Someone thinks I won’t be strong enough yet to turn this around.”

“Menzetti?” Jenevra asked quietly.

Phillip looked at her quizzically. “What makes you say that? I agree, but what makes you think it’s him?”

“One … he detests me. Always has done; always will do. It’s mutual anyway. Two … he hasn’t made any real objection to me as Imperial Protector, has he?” She glanced at Phillip for confirmation. “That’s definitely unusual. And three … he’d do anything to get me out of his way in the Palace; somewhere I can’t annoy him. Married off would suit the Chancellor’s purposes.”

Phillip’s dark head had been nodding agreement all through this. “Yes, during the Council meeting when he actually supported your being Imperial Protector, he said it would be good to keep you occupied “until” you were married. It looks like he’s planning to spring this on both of us tomorrow night … in public.” Phillip’s eyes had narrowed dangerously. “I can’t believe he’s sat in Council with me every day for almost a year now, and he still thinks he can use me as a puppet.”

“Which he would have done without Artela spilling the beans,” Jenevra reminded him. “So, what do we do? How do we spoil the Chancellor’s plan?”

“I’m not sure yet. We also have the added complication of placating whoever he’s promised you to!” Phillip smiled grimly as Jenevra’s mouth opened in indignation.

“Why can’t I just not be there?”

“Not be where?”

“At the ball, or wherever it is we’re supposed to be when you’re announcing this.”

Phillip considered it. “No, I had planned to use the evening ball to present you as Imperial Protector. I thought you could stand behind me looking officially menacing for the evening.” He grinned.

“You don’t think things through much, do you?” Jenevra looked mildly amused. “It’s your wedding, Phil. Chris is going to want to dance all night to show you off. You want me creeping around behind you? That should cause a stir.”

“Fair point. But I still want to install you as Protector tomorrow night.” He chewed on his thumbnail as he thought again. “What about a crisis?”

“This is a crisis! I’m not marrying anyone!”

“No, a real one. Well, not real, as such … could we create a crisis that my new Imperial Protector would have to leave to deal with?”

Jenevra screwed her face up doubtfully.

“It doesn’t have to be a genuine crisis,” Phillip repeated. “We could receive rumor of a threat and you can do a dramatic impersonation of a newly appointed Imperial Commander, demanding this as your first task to prove yourself for your Emperor.” He was animated now; this was sounding almost plausible.

“Well, everyone knows it’s the sort of stupid thing I would do, so there’ll be no problem convincing anyone there.”

“That’s true.” Phillip conceded. “Let’s do it then. Can you get one of your Flight to arrive with an urgent message during the evening? It’s probably better to keep it between as few of us as possible to stop anyone else suspecting anything.”

Jenevra nodded. “No problem there. What will you do about Menzetti?”

“Nothing.” Phillip said shortly. “As long as he thinks we haven’t become wise to his machinations, we still have the upper hand. Let’s get through this before we plan anything more permanent.”

“Phil?” Jenevra sounded hesitant. “Do you think your mother knows about this?”

“I hope not. Christiana better not be involved either.” Phillip’s jaw tightened as he considered the implications. “We’ll find out tomorrow, I guess.” He offered his cousin his arm. “If we’re agreed about this I’ll leave the details to you. You have more freedom than I do now.”

“Ahh … poor Emperor,” Jenevra consoled. “On the bright side, you get to order all the beheadings!”