Robin McKinley - Pegasus

The king paused. Fthoom smiled, and again it seemed to Sylvi that his eyes glittered queerly. But to her now there was nothing human about him—he was a taralian, a norindour, a roc; how strange it was that he should stand upright and wear a human magician’s robe. She shivered as if her father had struck her, but if Glarfin’s hands had not still held her arms, she might have thrown herself at Fthoom and tried to draw his blood till his magic turned her into a pebble or a worm. Ebon stood with his feet slightly splayed, as if he too were holding himself back, and Sylvi half noticed that there was another, smaller pegasus standing half in front of him, her shoulder against his, although she was not big enough to hold him if he could not hold himself: Hirishy.

“However,” the king continued, and he spoke very slowly and clearly, “Fthoom brings himself no honour in the means by which he chose to announce this discovery. He has produced disarray and disrespect in the king’s Court, and this in itself is an offense against his monarch and his country. But I hold you responsible for a more grievous crime”—and there was a sharp general intake of breath at these words, for the king never spoke directly to a miscreant; this was very nearly declaring a personal vendetta—“that of causing unnecessary pain to my daughter, the king’s child, and to the pegasus she is bound to, who is the son of the pegasi king who is himself bound to me. This news would be terrible to our two beloved children under any circumstances, and they need not have suffered it on public display.”

Fthoom had stopped smiling.

“You will turn over your findings— all your findings—to such magicians as I shall appoint.

“And then I wish never to see your face again.

“This meeting is ended.”

The well-trained housefolk leaped to open the doors, their muscles taking over while their confounded minds stood still, and the equally confounded audience began to pull itself together and file out. Little jerky bits of conversation began and broke off, and no one looked up at the faces of those on the dais; at most a few glanced sideways, at knees and feet and hoofs. Fthoom left with the rest, but Sylvi did not notice, for as soon as her father had stopped speaking, she pulled herself free of Glarfin’s hands and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest, weeping and weeping and weeping as if she might die of it; and rather than setting her on her own feet kindly and firmly and reminding her that she was a princess, he wrapped his own arms around her and rocked her gently back and forth as if she had been a much younger child, saying,“Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”

By the time Sylvi had cried herself out, she and her father were alone in the Little Hall, but for the footmen at the doors. Lrrianay and Ebon had gone.

Does anyone recognise you without your capes?