The Rose Throne

“P
RINCESS
A
ILSBET
, your father demands your attendance at court this morning,” said Duke Kellin of Falcorn, bowing. He was King Haikor’s new favorite, looked hardly older than Ailsbet, and was dark-haired, tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome in a dark sable cloak over a silver-embroidered tunic.

“You will give me a few minutes to prepare myself,” said Ailsbet. It was a request, though she spoke it as a command.

At sixteen, Ailsbet was of marriageable age, and it was time for her to build an alliance that would be of
use to her father. Since she had shown no neweyr, the magic of life that bound women to the earth, and was past the age of developing it, she was now considered unweyr. The well-born unweyr were occasionally used as ambassadors to the continent, where others would suffer deeply without weyr, but that was unlikely in Ailsbet’s case. Her father would want to use her marriage to strengthen his own seat on the throne, as well as her younger brother Edik’s claim to it in time.

“Your father is anxious to see you. It would be wise for you to avoid his displeasure,” said Kellin in the careful accent of the palace itself, more southern than northern, the harsher consonants smoothed out. What his true accent was, Ailsbet could not tell.

Was there true concern for her in his eyes? If so, he was the first of King Haikor’s noblemen to see her as anything other than an oddity. Ailsbet knew she was no beauty, for she looked too much like her father. His red hair was fading now, and his skin had grown coarse, but Ailsbet still had the bright flame of color around her face, and her fair skin was dotted with freckles. She had the king’s arresting nose and nearly his height, taller than every other woman at court by at least half a head.

“And do you think I am wise?” asked Ailsbet. The
duke could not possibly be as bland as he seemed, always agreeing with her father, wearing somber clothing in comparison to King Haikor’s elaborate court costumes. She wanted to know who he was, behind his pointed chin and correct demeanor.

“Wise? Your Highness, I think you are your father’s daughter in every way,” said Kellin.

“In every way?”

“Your Highness, I serve your father,” said Kellin.

“Only my father?” asked Ailsbet.

“In truth, I serve the kingdom of Rurik,” said Kellin, his eyes distant, as if he saw something far off in his mind, something bright and perfect. “I serve an ideal, of safety and protection to all the people within the borders of our land. I serve the king, who has done much to ensure that security. But more than that, I serve the future of our kingdom.”

“And does my father not call me to him now because he believes I will help secure the future of Rurik?” Ailsbet asked. She often watched with detached bemusement as her father’s lords jostled for position. In recent months, some had dared to hint at an offer of marriage for Ailsbet despite her oddity; others mentioned a sister or daughter who might be a bride for Edik. But soon there would come a time when it would no longer be a game, and a choice
would have to be made by the king. Was today that day?

“Your brother, Edik, is the one who will secure Rurik’s future as heir to the throne,” said Kellin. Edik was twelve years old and had already shown a small measure of taweyr, the magic of death and war, which male animals and humans shared with the forces of the world itself. Since men developed their weyr later than women, Edik would have until he was eighteen to prove himself fully capable of taking his place in taweyr, and then he would be named the official heir to the throne.

Ailsbet felt a fierce, burning surge of anger at Kellin’s dismissal of her place in the kingdom. She turned away from him, not wanting to show her feelings.

“I require a moment to myself,” she said.

“Your Highness—” Kellin said, and then stopped.

Ailsbet itched for her flute. When she was angry or agitated, her music could bleed the feelings from her. She closed her eyes and thought of an old, familiar lullaby about a child and a bluebird.

“Princess?” Kellin said.

“What is it now?” she asked, opening her eyes.

“Your Highness, your brother—” said Kellin.

“I know my brother is the one who matters, not I,”
said Ailsbet. All her life, Ailsbet had been told that her father had sacrificed for the kingdom, that her mother did, that she must.

“Perhaps not now,” said Kellin.

He said no more, though Ailsbet waited to hear him elaborate on that comment. Perhaps he meant she must in time produce an extra heir, in case Edik’s children were not sufficient?

“Give me a moment,” said Ailsbet again, and retreated to her inner chambers to examine herself in the mirror.

There were spots of red standing out on her cheeks, as if she had a fever. She dipped a cloth in cool water and pressed it to her face. What man would want a woman who was so tall and strongly featured? Who did not have the neweyr to speed the growth of plants or enhance the birth of animals? Who was not as his mother and sisters were, and could have only a distant conversation with other women about such things?

Only a nobleman who planned to spend his life at court, where the neweyr did not matter at all, would value a marriage with her. Only a nobleman who would never care for her personally, but for what she brought him in political connections.