EVEN UNDER THE BEST OF CONDITIONS, the city of Sulcus was not a pleasant place to live. In the summer it was hot and damp, and in the winter it was cold and damp. It was a good place from which to govern, because it was located nearly in the center of Medulla, but people who were not connected with the palace tended to move to Occipital on the coast, which had nice beaches and a better climate. Occipital, being a port city, also had better night life. Most Sulcuns did not agree with this. They pointed out that Sulcus had the museums, the monuments, the university, the library, and in general was a center of learning and culture. Sulcuns generally thought of Occipitans as frivolous beach-combing deadbeats. Occipitans replied that Sulcuns were boring stick-in-the-muds who didn’t know how to party.
Sulcuns tended to take this personally.
It was a chilly, wet, overcast autumn day all across Medulla, the air heavy with moisture that was too thick for mist and not quite heavy enough for rain. In Sulcus the wind blew the smoke from the chimneys down into the streets, where it added to the murk and mist. In the center of the city the white stone walls of Medulla Palace rose like chalk cliffs above a foggy lake. It was not a day for waiting outside. The streets were muddy, the shop windows were gray with condensation, and in the barren branches the birds fluffed their feathers and eyed Mina with disapproval. The girl was standing beneath a tree, at the edge of a small square near the center of the city. She was the smallest and youngest of the palace maids. She had a coin in her hands and was desperately afraid of losing it. She had knotted it into a piece of cloth, but did not dare put it into her apron pocket, too afraid that the next time she reached for it, it wouldn’t be there. It was her first time out of the palace since she had come to the city. She longed to go into one of the shops, but she couldn’t take the risk that someone might recognize her. Nor could she stand in the street, for fear of being seen from one of the palace windows. So she twisted the coin in her hands and stood with her back to the tree and peered around the corner.
Most of the people who walked past ignored her, huddled into their cloaks and coats, intent on their own business. But several times men slowed down to look Mina over. Nervously, she kept her eyes on the ground and tried not to notice them. Suddenly she became aware of a man standing next to her, staring down at her. He had a crooked mouth and eyes that squinted, and a bundle of coarsely printed booklets under his arm, wrapped in an oilskin. Involuntarily she took a step backward, coming up against the tree trunk. Water dripped on them both. He made an impatient sound, “Tchah.” Then, without another word, he plucked the piece of cloth from Mina’s hand, shoved one of the booklets at her, and walked off down the street with long strides.
Mina hid the booklet under her apron and ran the four blocks back to the palace. She slipped in the kitchen door, grateful that the task was finished, glad to be out of the damp cold, and into the damp warmth of the kitchen, surrounded by smells of cooked meats and the bustle of kitchen maids. Junie, the oldest maid, said, “You’re late.”
“The man was late,” Mina said meekly.
“She’s not late,” said Trixie, who was from Mina’s own town and her best friend in Sulcus. “Did you get it, Mina? No, don’t show it here. Take it upstairs.”
“Brush her hair first,” said Junie to Trixie. “This is an important meeting. We’re having visitors.”
“What!” Trixie was alarmed. She looked to see that the door was closed and took Junie’s arm. “We can’t have visitors! Who else knows about this?”
“Shush, it’s okay.” The other maids were staring. “They’re from the very top,” Junie said. “We can trust them.”
“Who are they? Tell me!”
“Keep your voice down. You’ll know who they are, but don’t say their names. Now take Mina upstairs. If we dawdle too long, we’ll lose the light. I’ll be right up.”
The girls swallowed their curiosity. They exchanged their aprons for fresh, clean ones, and went up the back stairs, up five floors to the highest level of the castle, to a small garret with a window that gathered in a few rays from the struggling sun. There were no chairs or other furniture in the room, merely a few storage trunks, but the girls had stocked it with cushions so they could sit in a circle on the floor. Mina was breathless. It was the first time the older girls had let her in on their secret meeting, and she felt very proud to have earned their trust. There were ten girls here already, five from the kitchen, three upstairs maids, one of the parlormaids, and the gardener’s girl. Balls of wool and spools of thread lay in their laps, and their nimble fingers automatically manipulated knitting needles, darning needles, tatting needles, sewing needles, and crochet hooks. Trixie shot the bolt on the door. Mina gave the booklet to Trixie, who passed it to the parlormaid, who put it in her knitting bag, and arranged herself so that the light from the window came over her shoulder. Trixie and Mina took their seats on the floor, and for a moment the room filled with the rustle of skirts as the circle spread out to make room for them. They waited, looking at the door, until there was a quiet knock.
Trixie got up and unbolted the door. Junie slipped in, followed by four more girls. Two of the newcomers were wearing dark cloaks of linsey-woolsey, with the hoods pulled over their heads, concealing their faces in shadow. Still, everyone knew who they were, particularly since they had their personal maids with them. The circle spread out again to give everyone extra room. The two princesses reached under their cloaks and produced tatting needles, for even those of royal blood were taught that a girl’s hands should never be idle. When they were all settled the older of the two, the princess whose blond hair was peeping out from under her hood, said, “Rowena, you may begin.”
The parlormaid folded back the cover and began to read. “Passion’s Chains—or—The White Slavers of Alhambra. Chapter Nineteen.
Racksturm handed her a quill without meeting her eyes. “You will write them a note,” he said harshly. “You must make them understand what will happen to you if they do not pay the ransom.”
“My family cannot pay it,” she cried desperately. “It will impoverish them!”
He stared out the window, his broad, muscular shoulders silhouetted against the setting sun. “They can sell their land.”
Melanie gasped. Sell Eventide? Sell the only place that she could call home, the only place where she had ever been happy? It was unthinkable. She would never ask her grandfather to do such a thing! Defiantly, she flung the quill on the table. “You may do your worst to me, Sir Racksturm, but I will not submit to your demands.”
He whirled and seized her arms in his powerful hands. Once again she found herself unable to offer resistance, overwhelmed by his sheer strength and will. “You little fool! Can’t you understand? I need that money, for reasons I cannot yet explain.”
His callousness stabbed her heart like a sword, but she held his gaze. “Is that all you care about, the money? Does nothing else have meaning for you, even after…” She nearly choked on the words. “After everything that has happened?”
“Damn you!” Racksturm swore, and then he had her in his arms, taking her kiss, covering her mouth with his and crushing their lips together. His fingers found her bodice and ripped the laces free of the satin cloth, leaving her tender flesh to his mercy. She did not protest, arching her back like a young willow blown by a savage storm, and forcing her breasts against him. Racksturm held her tighter and tighter still, but she felt no pain, only the growing heat within her own body, and the passionate swelling of his…oh!”
Rowena dropped the booklet. “I can’t breathe.” Her face was flushed and her breath came in short pants.
“Loosen her stays,” the Princess Gloria commanded. “Open that window.” She stood up and took Rowena by the arm, supporting her in front of the window until the thoroughly embarrassed maid regained her composure. Cool air blew across them both. “Feel better now?” The girl nodded. “Want to stay for the rest of it?” Another nod. “Perhaps someone else will read for a while. Junie?”
Junie collected the booklet, and the circle settled back down. The clicking of needles resumed. But before she could read a word, there was yet another knock on the door. The group gave a collective sigh of exasperation. “Now what?” said Gloria.
Her maid unbolted the door. A small boy, dressed in blue serge and brass buttons, stood at attention. “Beg pardon, Miss Alice, but her Royal Majesty the Queen of Medulla requires the presence of the Princess Gloria immediately.” He looked in the door. “Hi, Mina.”
“All right, Sammy,” Alice told the page. “You may tell the Queen that I know where the Princess is and will convey the message immediately.” She was not surprised that the page had found their “secret” meeting. Somehow the small boys seemed to know every nook and cubbyhole in the palace. Which was, no doubt, why they were used as pages. She reached out to pat him on the head, but the boy ducked away and took off. The maid closed the door firmly.
The Princess Jennifer sprang to her feet. “Yes! It’s your engagement! She’s going to announce your engagement.” She took Gloria’s hands and pulled her up. “That’s got to be it.”
“We shall see,” said Gloria calmly. She let herself out the door. Alice started to follow, but Gloria sent her back inside. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. Go ahead and finish.” She walked to the staircase, with Jennifer on her heels, then turned around in time to see the rest of the girls streaming through the door. Having dutifully waited an entire ten seconds, they now spread out to carry the news to the castle.
Gloria kept her own excitement in check until she reached her dressing room, where she discarded her cloak and let her afternoon gown fall to the floor. Slipping into a champagne-colored silk sheath, she found her hands shaking too much to fasten the buttons. Jennifer helped her with them. “I wish I could wear my new rose gown with the lace blouse. But I’ve earmarked it for the Autumn Ball.”
“I’m having a black lace dress made for the ball. But my seamstress says there may not be enough lace for it.”
“Every year the dressmakers say that, but every year there’s always enough lace. Don’t worry about it.” The princess held a gold ring against her ear, looked at herself in the mirror, and discarded it for another pair.
“Who do you think it is? There have been so many of them.”
“It’s Terry, of course.” Gloria was certain of this.
Jennifer was not. “It’s not Terry, Gloria. Don’t get your hopes up. He only has a knighthood. He’s not of the nobility.”
“A knight can be introduced in court. That’s all Mother needs to be concerned about.”
“He has no money. Mother would never betroth you to a landless knight.”
Gloria settled on earrings and fastened them on. “My Terry is not a landless knight. He has property in Middleton. It brings him fifty royals a year.”
“Fifty royals a year is not much. My Georgy has nine hundred royals a year, and the largest private estate in Medulla.”
“You young girls think too much of money,” said Gloria, who was nineteen. She gave her hair a few extra strokes with a silver hairbrush. “Money is not important. What’s important is that a man be strong and brave and daring. But he must also be loyal and kind-hearted. And good-looking, of course. As long as a man has these noble qualities, and fifty royals a year, then a girl should be happy with him. Do I need more powder?”
“No, you’re fine. You won’t get any money from Mother and Father if you marry Terry. You know that. What will you live on? You can’t live on fifty royals a year.”
“You certainly can, if you manage your money carefully. Fifty royals a year will get us a house in Middleton with a cook, a maid-of-all-work, and of course Terry’s squire. We can also afford a gardener to come in once a week, or perhaps an upstairs maid. I haven’t decided yet.”
“You can’t keep a stable on fifty a year. You won’t have a carriage. My Georgy has two matched teams of carriage horses, in addition to his riding horses.”
“We won’t need a carriage. Middleton is on the coach line. My Terry keeps his horse at the livery stable, and we can rent a carriage when we come into the city. Should I put up my hair?”
“Yes,” said Jennifer firmly. “This is a formal announcement.”
“Bring me those pins, will you, please?”
Her sister rummaged around the dressing table and returned with hairpins. “What about schools? You won’t be able to send your children away to school.”
“Middleton happens to have an excellent day school,” said Gloria smugly.
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“We’ll be able to afford two weeks at the seashore each summer and give two dinner parties each season. I’ve added it all up.”
“You’ll be bored,” said Jennifer darkly. “Bored, bored, bored. You won’t like it in the country. You be coming to the city every week to visit my Georgy and me.”
“Fresh milk!” returned Gloria. “Fresh eggs. You and Georgy will be coming to the country each week to dine with us.” She gave her hair a final pat. “Let’s go. Where are my gloves?”
Jennifer followed Gloria to the grand staircase, but hung back at the top of the stairs. Since this was Gloria’s moment, it was appropriate that no one else should divert attention from her when she made her big entrance. And a big entrance it was. The grand stairway descended to a marbled hall that rose three stories. Highly polished parquet floors waited to greet her. Candles glittered in every nook and cranny, and reflected off the giant cut-glass chandelier that dominated the ceiling. Portraits of Medulla’s former kings, queens, and major lottery winners hung on the walls. Gloria could almost imagine that they were smiling at her, congratulating her, giving their approval to the match. The princess descended the stairs slowly, one hand caressing the walnut banister, her silk dress trailing behind her, hair piled on top of her head, a calm smile on her lovely face, bright blue eyes serenely confident. Word had spread quickly through the palace. It seemed as though every one of the royal family’s personal servants had somehow contrived to be doing something in the big hallway when Gloria came down. She nodded to each one as she passed them by and entered the antechamber to the queen’s drawing room. It was crowded to near bursting, filled with courtiers, nobles, politicians, the ladies who formed the queen’s inner circle, and, of course, the lawyers who negotiated the betrothal. They all bowed as she passed. A footman opened the door to the queen’s drawing room. She went inside and stood still until she heard the door close behind her.
The queen was exuberantly happy. She was dressed in a severe dark jacket and skirt, with little makeup, for she had been taking part in the negotiations herself and trying to look tough. Now that they were over she floated around the room giving directions to the waiters, who were setting out champagne flutes and trays of petits fours. One bottle was already open. Between instructions the queen danced around the room with a glass in each hand and hummed a little children’s song. When Gloria came in, her mother rushed over to kiss her on the cheek, then handed her a glass of champagne. “Gloria, dear, I am so, so happy for you!”
“Yes, Mother.”
“You will be so, so pleased with man we have for you.”
“I’m sure I will, Mother,” said Gloria, thinking of Terry.
“Come here and sit with me.” The queen took Gloria’s hand and pulled her over to a couch. Gloria sat on the edge of her seat, while the queen settled back among cushions. “Well, dear, we’ve all been working very hard for this, but I’m sure you’ll agree that he is worth the wait.”
“I’m sure I will, Mother.”
“He is virtuous and educated and intelligent.”
“Oh yes.”
“Oh, Gloria!” Here the queen clutched her daughter’s arm. “He is so handsome. Oh, wait until you see him. You will not be able to take your eyes off him.”
“No,” breathed Gloria.
“There has never been a match like this. You will be the envy of every girl in the kingdom. I just know you’ll be perfect together.”
“I know,” said Gloria, smiling.
The queen beamed at her. “Well, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. As of today, you are officially engaged to…” The queen paused dramatically. “Roland Westfield.”
“Um,” said Gloria. Her brain suddenly seemed to slow down. It was as if all her thoughts were mired in taffy and had to be extracted one by one. She saw her mother looking at her expectantly, waiting for a reaction, and she tried to think of something to say, but all that she could manage was a second, “Um.”
The queen patted her arm, cheerfully sympathetic. “I know how you feel, dear. You wait and wait for the news, but when it actually happens it all seems so unexpected and overwhelming.”
“Unexpected,” said Gloria, looking vaguely around the room. “Yes.” She felt dizzy. Her eyes settled on the glass in her hand. She stared at it until she was able to focus again, took a tiny sip, then tossed back the rest in a gulp. “Roland Westfield. I know of him, I think. Wait. Westfield? Not the Westfield Bakeries Westfields?”
“Yes,” said her mother, a bit smugly. “They are very, very rich.”
“They certainly are,” said Gloria sharply. “Very rich indeed! And you know how they get their money, don’t you?”
“Of course, dear. They hold the patents on sliced bread.”
“Exactly!” Gloria stood up. “Mother, how could you do this?”
“Now, Gloria, don’t get started on the sliced bread issue. There’s nothing wrong with eating sliced bread. It’s perfectly safe.”
“You don’t know that! No one can be sure of that!” Gloria’s emotions began to heat up. “Sliced bread has never been adequately tested. We don’t know what the long-term health effects are!”
The queen dismissed this. “When you are married to Roland you can influence him to change his policies.” She fluttered her hand. “Or whatever you like. Now, let’s go out and make the announcement. We mustn’t keep the guests waiting.”
Gloria clutched her empty glass. “A moment, Mother. When was the betrothal agreement signed?”
The queen looked surprised. “Not an hour ago, dear. Why do you ask? I sent for you as soon as I could.”
“Yes. I appreciate that, Mother. But wasn’t there news—this morning? I mean, the news came this morning, but it must have happened days ago. About a dragon? And a knight? I know I heard something about this. You know, that big dragon in the south? Father has been trying for years to get someone to slay it.”
“Why yes, dear. There was a dragon slain down that way. Was that bothering you? We know all about it.” The Queen patted Gloria on the shoulder. “But you have nothing to worry about. It won’t affect our plans at all. The knight who slew it chased it over the border into Oblongata.”
“He what!”
“And now he’s going to marry Princess Jane.”
“Jane!”
“I’m so happy for her. She’s waited so long for this, poor dear. I mean, she’s such…” Now it was the queen’s turn to study her glass while she combed her mind for the right word. “Such an unusual girl. A lovely person really, in her own way. I suppose we’ll be invited to the wedding. That will be nice. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen them.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t get in an argument with the pork chops again,” said Gloria, still mentally reeling from the news.
“Curiously, it turned out to be one of our own knights who did the slaying, although I’m not familiar with his name. I think you made a fortunate escape, Gloria. From what I’ve been told, he seems to be a coarse and vulgar sort of fellow.”
“He certainly is not! I happen to know he’s a very fine young man.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Well, I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough. Are you ready?” Without waiting for an answer, she led Gloria into the antechamber. A line of waiters followed with trays, cutting off escape. Immediately they were surrounded by courtiers. Gloria accepted the bows and curtseys and congratulations with an absentminded smile. But while she made light conversation, her eyes flicked around the room. It took a while to find the man she was seeking, because he in turn was trying to avoid her gaze, but eventually she cornered him. “Counselor Miligras,” she said, beaming at him. “It is so good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Princess,” said the lawyer, trying to discreetly edge away, but finding his path blocked by others.
“I do so appreciate the work you put into this. I know it has been a long and difficult negotiation.”
Miligras wore a high, stiff collar, which seemed to get higher and stiffer as he shrank down into it. He ran a finger around his neck. “I can’t take all the credit, your Highness. There were others involved. I was part of a team.” His voice held a bit of a plea. “It wasn’t only me.”
“I hope both you and your coworkers will accept my thanks for your efforts. But Counselor Miligras,” she continued, “it’s all so complicated and confusing to a simple girl like myself. I wonder if I could speak privately to you about it? Just to clear up a few issues?”
“Of course, of course. That’s what I’m here for. Always happy to be of service, Your Highness. I think I have an opening in my schedule next Tuesday…”
“Right now, please, if you would be so kind,” said Gloria sweetly. “There’s an empty room next door. Really, I won’t take but a minute of your time.”
She gestured toward a connecting door. Miligras courteously opened it for her and followed her in. It was merely a small waiting room where the queen’s ladies-in-waiting could write a few letters or play cards while waiting to attend on Her Royal Majesty. (Ladies-in-waiting do a lot of waiting.) Gloria smiled patiently, hands clasped in front of her as Miligras closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock. When he was certain it was secure he straightened his back, adjusted his cravat, turned to face Gloria, and said authoritatively, “Now, Princess, I understand you have every reason to be upset…”
Two small but strong hands grabbed his collar, dragged him to a chair, and pushed him down in it so hard it rocked back on two legs. He flung his arms out to keep from toppling over. “Miligras,” yelled Gloria. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! I’ve been paying you a huge chunk of my allowance this year! A huge chunk! You were supposed to stomp down every other suitor, and now this? You got me engaged to some pretty boy!”
The attorney shrank back in his chair. “It was unavoidable, Princess. The family is wealthy, and the pressure was so great—I warned you I couldn’t hold them off forever—but you know I’ve done my best for you all these months—and then the news came in this morning that Sir Terry would marry Princess Jane—and all the women on the team were so gaga over this Roland lad—so I thought, well, at least that will be some consolation to her. Because they all think he’s so good-looking. So I withdrew my objections and we went ahead with it.”
“My Terry is not going to marry Jane,” Gloria said definitely.
“But Your Highness, it’s a done deal. I’m sorry, Princess, but you can’t interfere with another country’s nuptial arrangements. I mean yes, it can be done. The King can do it, Medulla as a country can do it, countries do it all the time, but it’s a diplomatic issue. You personally can’t do anything. If I start poking my nose over there and making queries, people will figure out that you’re behind it. Your parents certainly will. Besides, even if Sir Terry managed to break his engagement to Princess Jane, it would be an intolerable scandal. A woman of your position couldn’t possibly marry him afterward. As for your own engagement, the Westfields are very influential. They really want this marriage. And they’ve got a damn good negotiating team.”
“Stall them,” said Gloria curtly. She walked around the chair as she spoke, thinking hard. Miligras had to crane his neck to keep her in sight. “Don’t break the engagement, just delay things. Say there are still a few details to work out. It doesn’t matter if the contract has been signed. You told me a good lawyer can examine a receipt for a coffee and a bun and find loopholes in it. You can hold this up.”
Miligras had heard mention of certain female insects that, for one reason or another, would bite the heads off male insects that displeased them. The Princess Gloria, he thought, seemed to have the same frame of mind. He cleared his throat nervously and said, “Ah, I suppose there are a few details to…”
“Fine,” said Gloria. “Take care of it. And I’ll need some of your couriers. Not the royal couriers, but the private, confidential couriers that you use for legal business.” She stopped in front of him and jerked her head toward the door. “Give me an hour to finish up in there. Then send one of them to my rooms.”
“Oh my God,” said Miligras. “This isn’t another one of your plans, is it?”
“Just do it,” Gloria said.