summer.â
âThis is the one. The claret will be perfect. And if youâre wearing something the other ladies arenât, even better. You made an impression of one kind this afternoon. Tonight youâll underscore it. Today the noble weary warrior returned home. Tonight Her Royal Highness shines like a jewel in the heart of the Twelve. But first, letâs trim your hair.â
âMy hair is already short.â But I obediently sat, bemused by her take on things. Danu taught that no trick should be neglected in battle. If primping would help me hold my own, so be it. âThere are those braid supplements my ladies use, to make it look like my hair is put up instead of just short.â
âNo offense, Your Highness, but itâs obvious what the intent is. It fools nobody. Everyone knows your hair is short. By wearing the hairpieces, you look as if youâre apologizing for it. Youâre extraordinary as you are. Your strength lies in being exactly that.â
Fringes of my hair fell on the white robe as she worked, looking like spatterings of old blood, deep red like the gown.
âYouâve apparently given this a great deal of thought.â
âAmiâPrincess Amelia, I meanâand I discussed it. She learned a great deal on her journeys about disguise and appearance as a method of displaying and holding power.â
âAmiâand you might as well call her that when weâre alone, since I know you do anywayâhas made a science of being beautiful. If I stick with my strengths, thatâs not one.â
âWhere is your circlet?â
I swallowed a groan. âDonât make me wear that thing.â
âFormal feast,â she reminded me. âYouâll wear the Heirâs Circlet. Think of it as another kind of battle helm.â
âJewelry chest should be in the bottom of the wardrobe, if no oneâs moved it. Youâve been in my rooms longer than I have.â
She went rummaging for it while I pulled on the gown and servants came in to light the lamps. The sunset chant went up from Gloriannaâs Temple, bidding the day good-bye. By rights we should hear the song for Moranuâs moon, but none at Ordnung observed her worship, at least not openly. It had been interesting, those weeks at Windroven, to hear the rites for all three goddesses. Ami was intent on restoring the balance of the Three, though I didnât quite understand why. But if she thought Iâd missed the changes sheâd been making in Gloriannaâs church, then she didnât know me well enough.
More likely she counted on my not caring. Which, in all truth, I didnât. Glorianna, with her pretty pink roses and promises of life everlasting, had never held much significance for me. The High King had declared Gloriannaâs worship supreme in the Twelve Kingdoms, and as long as Amiâs actions upheld his law, I had no problem with her machinations.
For myself, I privately looked to Danu, goddess of high noon and the bright blade. All the warriors did, no matter the time we spent bending a public knee to Glorianna.
With the great exception of Uorsin, whoâd declared Gloriannaâs church preeminent, but rarely gave her worship more than lip service. He had his reasons, no doubt. Still, it had pierced my heart in an odd way at Windroven, the sound of the âSong of Danuâ at high noon. Something I hadnât heard since the day Kaedrin left.
âGood goddesses,â Dafne exclaimed. âYou keep the crown jewels in the bottom of your wardrobe?â
She had the little chest open on a side table and she drew out a glittering strand of rubies.
âSalenaâs,â I explained. âThey came to me upon her death. I was ten and more interested in swords, so they meant little to me. Recall that we werenât to mention her name, or her very existence, for quite some time. I didnât know what to do with them and that seemed