Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) by Christine Pope Read Free Book Online Page B

one pointy-faced young man Master Mellenden brought along with him to play the flute as accompaniment.
    It all seemed so complicated, and yet wonderful at the same time. I was not completely unschooled; my father had had a dancing master for me when I was young, as well as a tutor to teach me how to read and write and figure. He had taught me how to ride a horse himself, not trusting anyone else to do it — and also because I thought he wanted any chance he could take to ride the fields of his beloved estate, and taking his young daughter out on her pony afforded him the opportunity to be out in the wind and the sun, and not cooped up in the house.
    Even so, it had been many years since my last dancing lesson, and I drank in what I could and prayed it would be enough. I wished there were some way I could coerce Janks into practicing with me, but of course he would think it foolish of me to want to dance, and if Mari should ever catch us at it, even if he were to agree — I shuddered at the thought. No, best to commit the various steps to memory, the same way I had learnt my multiplication tables, and to hope I would be able to recall the padrane as easily as I could remember six times nine.
    Besides Master Mellenden, there was Mistress Rhandil, the seamstress, who was in and out of the house so often I rather began to wonder whether she could have saved herself some time and taken up residence in one of the unused bedrooms on the third floor. And I didn’t even want to think what all those bolts of shining fabric were costing, and the trims woven with precious metals, and the silk stockings and embroidered purses and feathered fans! True, last year had provided a bountiful harvest, and my stepmother always took the lion’s share of such income from her tenants, but even so, I could not see how she was possibly able to afford all this.
    Manners and etiquette cost nothing. That is, my stepmother’s younger sister, who apparently had been quite the beauty in her day, had married a baron, and actually spent a good deal of time at court. Since she had borne only sons, she had no daughters who would be rivals for the Emperor’s hand, and so she took it upon herself to pass on her own knowledge of the court.
    “‘Your Majesty,’ of course, for the Emperor, and the dowager Empress. ‘Your Highness’ for the Crown Princess, ‘Your Grace’ for any dukes or duchesses who might be present. Anything below that, and you’re safe with ‘my lord’ or ‘my lady,’ thank goodness,” said Lady Khorinne, sipping from a delicate etched glass filled with rhubarb cordial. “If you are very lucky, and His Majesty takes a particular interest in you, then he may give you leave to address him by his given name, but of course you should never do such a thing unless you have a very clear invitation.”
    “And is he so very handsome?” sighed Shelynne, who apparently did not care much for titles and wanted to get to the heart of the matter.
    “His Majesty is the handsomest man I ever saw,” the Baroness declared at once. “Begging my husband’s forgiveness, for of course he is a very fine man as well, but nothing next to the Emperor. You must count yourselves very lucky, girls, that he is being so magnanimous in giving this opportunity to the young women of his own land, instead of ignoring them in favor of a foreign princess.”
    Of course my stepsisters chimed in at once that yes, he was being so very generous, and that they could not wait to see him for themselves.
    “Ah, well, not much longer,” said the Baroness. “Only a week left, and so much to do!”
    “Yes,” my stepmother put in, with a significant glance at Jenaris’ waistline, which had not diminished much over the preceding three weeks. “We must do everything we can to be ready.”
    At that point she sent me to the kitchen to fetch some cakes — “but none for you, Jenny!” — and so I missed the rest of the lesson. Just as well, for my mind was churning.