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Chapter 1
The Fourth Crown Princess of the Blue Crescent Islands had sixteen rituals to observe from the
moment of waking to when she broke her fast. These included getting out of bed on the right-
hand side; turning to the east to bow to the sun; submitting to having her hair groomed with
forty strokes from a silver-backed brush by the Under Mistress of the Royal Chamber; and--
Princess Taoshira paused. What have I forgotten? Goddess rot the Etiquette Mistress's rule
book, I know there's something else.
"Your fingerbowl, Your Highness," intoned the Senior Mistress of the Chamber, holding out a
bronze basin.
Fingerbowl! Why do I always forget the fingerbowl? Taoshira rinsed her fingertips delicately and
dried them on a white linen towel.
Probably, chimed in another voice in her head, because when you were at home -- before you
were chosen as princess -- you had to wash your hands under the pump in the yard, jostling the
serving girls for your place in the line.
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Taoshira, or Tashi as she used to be known to her family, almost smiled at the recollection--then
remembered that the Crown Princess was not allowed to show emotion until she had said the
Four Blessings, the true beginning of the day in the Royal Palace, and accompanied the words
with the
appropriate gesture.
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"Eternal Goddess of Mystery, give our people wisdom" (touching her head);
"Gracious Mother of Mercy, look upon our people with compassion" (right hand on heart);
"Kind Sister of Healing, bless all who are ill" (hands outspread);
"Joyful Child of Hope, prosper our work this day" (fingers arched, thumbs touching in a triangle).
The four attendants gathered in her bedchamber gave the required response in unison: "As the
Goddess wills."
Tashi was relieved that was over. She liked the morning prayer to the four faces of the Mother
Goddess but had not yet got used to the fact that she was now an official priestess for the entire
nation. If she forgot to say it--or even fluffed the words--her people believed that dire
consequences would be felt throughout the land. It had been very different mumbling the same
prayers to herself up on the hills of her family's estate on Kai, the northernmost of the islands
that made up the Blue Crescent, named for the curving shape of the isles in the Sapphire Ocean.
In those days, as a faithful Kaian, she had said the words with only her goats to hear her as the
sun broke over the jagged crests of the
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Marine Mountains. She had never dreamed that she would be snatched from that life as
abruptly as a kid is plucked from the ground by a bird of prey.
From insignificant daughter of an impoverished matriarch, she had become one of the four most
powerful women in her world.
Tashi stood with arms outstretched as the Assistant Under Mistress of the Chamber removed
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her nightgown. That was another thing that had taken a lot of getting used to: standing stark
naked in front of her attendants with only her long fair hair to veil her while they went through
the ceremonial dressing.
Over the last four years, from blushing furiously she had progressed to thinking of other things
while they fussed over her. The ceremony had its set order: first placing on the white silk under-
robe, then the sleeveless orange tunic of the Fourth Crown Princess, next the flamboyant
embroidered gown (today was one of her favorites--the dragonfly design), and finally the orange
sash.
Four items of clothing. Her life was ruled by that number. It had decided her fate when the last
Fourth Crown Princess had met an untimely death at the age of twenty. The Blue Crescent
Islands always had four crown princesses, one from each isle of Rama, Lir-Salu, Phonilara, and
Kai. It had been the princess from the smallest and most northern island that had died, so the
priests and priestesses of Kai had gathered to identify the next candidate.
Their choice was restricted to all eligible twelve-year-old girls of matriarchal families.
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Normally, the choice fell on the greatest and most wealthy households, but it seemed that in
Tashi's year something had gone awry and she--the
youngest daughter of a family whose claim to matriarchal nobility was largely on paper--had
been chosen. Her family had long since ceased to be noticed at court, their wealth dwindling
until they had become hill farmers in an obscure province.
There had been no question that she would accept the role. Tashi had known that her family
would benefit hugely from having their daughter at the seat of government--and she also shared
the belief that the Goddess's hand was behind such decisions, no matter how imperfect her
human agents.
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Though Tashi had wondered many times over the years that had
transformed her from free-living goat herder to a key part of the most formal court in the known
world, whether the Mother had not chosen her for a bit of light relief from her three co-rulers.
She sometimes felt she was more court jester than ruler as she struggled to submit to her new
life.
Only to herself would she admit that the ceremonies and duties were driving her mad; and yet
she was committed to repeating the same pattern day in, day out for the rest of her life, for the
good of the nation.
The Etiquette Mistress, one of the highest ranking officials in the court, arrived even before the
breakfast.
"Now, Crown Princess, shall we resume our lesson on the right degree of bow to give the
Gerfalian ambassadors?" she asked, opening her scroll at the correct place.
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"As the Goddess wil s," replied Tashi, keeping her face inscrutable.
Ramil ac Burinholt, Prince of Gerfal, had risen before the sun for the hunt.
The dawn had found him and his friends riding pellmell through the Royal Forest, leaping fallen
trees, whooping with excitement as they picked up a trail. Ramil loved the reckless speed of the
chase and rode like the wind when the mood took him. His mother had originally come from the
hot deserts of the far south, princess of a dark-skinned people known as the Horse Followers.
His friends always said it was her blood in him that caught fire when he and his stallion, Leap, set
off on one of their mad careers through the forest, leaving all the others behind. The
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professional huntsmen just shook their heads in despair and let the young Prince go, knowing
from experience that he would return when it suited him, having caught nothing.
At one with his galloping horse, Ramil entered a state of pure happiness.
The greens, oranges, golds, reds, and browns flashed by as Leap streaked through the trees.
Twigs snatched at Ramil's clothes but were unable to catch him. The rush of air was cool on skin.
Harness jingled and leather creaked in a tuneful counterpoint to the rapid thud-thud of the
hooves. Leap's footing was sure; he was fresh, ready to run for as long as his rider wished. It was
their great game, their moment of release from stable and council chamber.
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Having covered a mile in this fashion, Leap barely slowed for the stream that crossed their path,