Michael Sullivan: Wintertide

"But-"

"No worries, my dear. There's nothing to it. The bird does all the work. All you need to do is just sit on your horse and look pretty-which you will in the new dress Lois will make. Blue would be a good color and will go wonderfully with your eyes. I suppose I will have to arrange a horse as well. We can't have you trudging through the snow and ruining the gown, now can we? I just know Saldur never thinks of such things. He appointed you Secretary to the Empress, but does he realize the need for clothing? A horse? Jewelry?"

The duchess paused again still gripping her arm like a cider press. "Oh, my darling, I just realized you aren't wearing any-jewelry that is. Don't be embarrassed. I understand perfectly. Otto is a fabulous jeweler. He can set a sapphire pendent in the blink of an eye. Won't that look stunning with your new blue gown? Thank Maribor I brought my full retinue. Lord knows the local artisans could never keep up with me. When you think about it, who can?" She laughed, and Amilia wondered just how much longer she could go on.

With another pull, they were off again. "I tend to be a bit much, don't I? It's the way I am. I can't help it. My husband stopped trying to turn me into a proper wife years ago. Of course, now he knows that my exuberance is what he loves most about me. 'Never a dull moment or a moment's peace,' he always says. Speaking of men, have you chosen a champion to carry your favor in the joust?"

"N-no."

"You haven't? But, darling, knights just adore fighting for pretty, young things like you. I'll bet you've driven them mad by waiting so long."

There was a pause that startled Amilia into speech. "Ah, I didn't know I was supposed to."

"Ha hah!" Lady Genevieve laughed delightedly. "You are a marvel, darling. Simply fabulous! Ethelred tells me you're new to the gentry-elevated by Maribor himself. Isn't that delightful. Maribor's Chosen One watching over Maribor's Heir. How amazing!"

They turned the corner into the west wing where a handful of chambermaids scattered like pigeons before a carriage. "You're a living legend, dear Amilia. Why, every knight in the kingdom will clamor for your favor. There will be none more sought after except the empress herself, but of course, no one would dare insult Ethelred by asking for her favor just weeks before his wedding! No one wants to make an enemy of a new emperor. That makes you the darling of the festival. You can have your pick of any eligible bachelor. Dukes, princes, earls, counts, and barons are all hoping for the chance to capture your attention or win the honor of sitting next to you at the feast with a victory on the field of Highcourt."

"I wasn't planning on going to either," Amilia stated.

The mere idea of noblemen chasing her was beyond frightening. While courtly love might be honorable and romantic for princesses and countesses, no noble ever practiced gentleness with a common woman. Serving girls who caught the eye of any noble-whether a knight or king-could be taken against their will. Amilia had never been attacked, but she had wiped tears and bound wounds for more friends than she cared to count. Although she now possessed the title of Lady before her name, everyone knew her background, and Amilia feared her flimsy title would be a poor shield against a lust-driven noble.

"Nonsense, you must attend the feasts. Besides, it's your duty. Your absence could very well start a riot! You don't want to be the cause of an insurrection in the weeks leading to your empress's wedding, do you?"

"Ah, no, of course-"

"Good, so it's all settled. Now you just need to pick someone. Do you have a favorite?"

"I don't know any of them."

"None? Good gracious, darling! Do they keep you a prisoner? What about Sir Elgar or Sir Murthas? Prince Rudolph is competing, and he is a fine choice with an excellent future. Of course, there is also Sir Breckton. You couldn't find a better choice than that. I know he does have the reputation of being a bit stuffy. It is true, of course. But after his victory in Melengar, he's the hero of the hour-and quite dashing." The duchess wiggled her eyebrows. "Yes, Breckton would be a perfect choice. Why, the ladies of several courts have been fawning over him for years."

A look of concern crossed Lady Genevieve's face. "Hmm…that does bring up a good point. You'll probably need to be careful. While you are certainly the object of every knight's affections, that means you're also the target of every lady's jealousy."

The duchess threw a meaty arm around Amilia's neck and pulled her close, as if she was going to whisper in her ear, but her voice did not drop a bit in volume. "Trust me, these women are dangerous. Courtly love isn't a game to them. You're new to politics, so I am telling you this for your own good. These are daughters of kings, dukes, and earls, and they are used to getting what they want. When they don't, they can be vengeful. They know all about your background. I am certain that many have sent spies to visit your family, trying to dig up what dirt they can. If they can't find any, trust me, they will invent some."

Lady Genevieve tugged her around another corner, this time toward the northern postern and up the steps to the third floor.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"It's quite simple, my dear. On the one hand, they think belittling you should be easy because of your common roots. But, on the other, you've never made any pretense of being otherwise, which negates their effort. It's difficult to demean someone for something they're not embarrassed of, now isn't it? Still, you must turn a deaf ear to any jibes told at your expense. You may hear name calling like swine herder and such. Which, of course, you're not. You must remember you're the daughter of a carriage maker and a fine one at that. Why, absolutely everyone who is anyone is beating a path to your father's door. They all want to ride in a coach crafted by the father of the Chosen One of Maribor."

"You know about my father? My family? Are they all right?" Amilia stopped so suddenly that the duchess walked four steps before realizing she had lost her.

Amilia had long feared her family was dead from starvation or illness. They had had so little. She left home two years ago to remove an extra mouth from the table with the intent of sending money home, but she had not counted on Edith Mon.

The head maid had declared Amilia's old clothes unfit and demanded she pay for new ones. This forced Amilia to borrow against her salary. Broken or chipped plates also added to her bill, and in the first few months, there were many. With Edith, there was always something to keep Amilia penniless. Eventually the head maid even began fining her for disobedience or misbehavior, keeping Amilia in constant debt.

How she had hated Edith. The old ogre had been so cruel that there had been nights when Amilia had gone to sleep wishing the woman would die. She fantasized that a carriage would hit her or that she would choke on a bone. Now that Edith was gone, she almost regretted those thoughts. Charged with treason, Edith had been executed less than a week ago, with all of the palace staff required to watch.

In more than two years, Amilia had been unable to save even a single copper to send home and had heard nothing from her family. While the empress was trapped in her catatonic daze, the regents sequestered the palace staff to prevent others from learning about her condition. During that time, Amilia had been as much a prisoner as Modina. Writing letters home had been useless. The palace rumor mill maintained that all letters were burned by order of the regents. After Modina recovered, Amilia continued to write, but she never received a single reply. There had been reports of an epidemic near her home, and she feared her family was dead. Amilia had given up all hope of ever seeing them again-until now.