Of course not—too much is at risk for such foolishness. I must be patient. But it was hard, of course, and even more so now that there was a chance Barrick might be waiting for her in Southmarch.
“It’s not enough to think you’re a leader,” her father had always said—“you must think like a leader. You must honor the people who risk their lives for you—honor them every day, in your thoughts and your deeds.”
The memory made her feel ashamed. She had not been to see Ivvie all day—the friend who had almost died for Briony’s sake. She was exhausted and didn’t want to go just now, but a leader could not dishonor a sacrifice like that.
Ivgenia e’Doursos had been given a room of her own for her recuperation, a small, sunny chamber in the southern wing of the palace. Briony suspected that Eneas had ordered it so, and although she feared too many obligations to the prince, she was grateful for this favor.
Ivvie was pale with dark circles under her eyes and a tremor in her hands when she reached up as Briony bent to kiss her. “It is so kind of you to come, Highness.”
“Nonsense.” She sat down beside the bed and took one of the girl’s cold hands in her own. “Lie back. Do you need anything? Where is your maid?”
“She is fetching me more cold water,” Ivvie said. “Sometimes I am cold myself, but then other times I feel so hot it is as though I am burning up! She mops my brow and that helps a little.”
“I am so angry that I let this happen to you.”
Ivgenia gave her a weak smile. “It is not your fault, Princess. Someone was trying to kill you.” Her eyes grew wide. “Have they caught him yet?”
Of course, it could just as well be a her, Briony thought. “No. But I’m certain they will find the villain and he will be punished. I only wish it had not happened to you.” Briony did not want to speak too much about it for fear of making the girl feel unwell again, so she steered the conversation in another direction, telling Ivvie of her strange trip to meet the Kallikans. By the time Briony had finished the girl’s eyes were wide again.
“But who would ever have guessed! Tunnels down into the earth? The same place that I showed you?”
“The same,” Briony laughed. “I am beginning to learn the truth of the old saying about oracles in ragged robes.”
“And they truly had a message for you from your home in Southmarch? What was it?”
Briony suddenly felt she might have said too much. “Perhaps I exaggerated a bit when I said it was for me. In truth it was almost impossible to tell what it might have meant—I cannot even remember all the words. Something about the Old Ones. I was told that it meant the fairy folk who have besieged the castle—those monsters attacking my home. I can scarcely stand to think about it.”
“Your Highness must be in anguish to be so far away from your family and your subjects! That’s what I told those stupid women.”
“What women?”
“Oh, you know, Seris, the duke of Gela’s daughter, Erinna e’Herayas—that group who are always hovering around the Lady Ananka. They came to see me.” Ivvie frowned. She looked as though the visit had tired her already. “They were talking and talking about everyone—this one is so fat she has to have three maids to pull her stays tight, that one will never take her hat off because she’s beginning to lose her hair. Most unpleasant. They know you’re my friend so they didn’t say anything foul about you—or at least they didn’t come right out and do it—but they were saying that you must be happy to be here in such a civilized place, so far away from all those dreadful things happening in Southmarch. They also said of course you’d want to stay here as long as you could, especially when Prince Eneas himself is paying you such attention.”
Briony realized she was grinding her teeth together. “All I think about is getting back to my people.”
“I know, Highness, I know!” Now Ivvie looked worried, as though she had done something wrong. Briony fought down the urge to walk out of the girl’s sickroom and go straight off to pick a fight with Lady Ananka and her little witches’ coven. Instead, she steered the conversation back toward milder matters.
When Ivgenia’s maid returned with a pail of water, puffing and muttering and looking quite sorry for herself about having to carry it so far, Briony stood and kissed Ivvie good-bye. She met the prince’s physician on the stairs, a bony older man with a brisk, distracted air who was stopping to look in on Ivgenia. “Ah, Princess,” he said, bowing. “May I trouble you for a moment?”
“What is it? She is getting better, isn’t she?”
“Who? Oh, young Mistress e’Doursos, yes, yes, never fear. No, I only wanted to ask you about Chaven Ulosian. You were his patron, I understand. Do you know his current whereabouts?”
“I have not seen him nor heard anything of him since the night I left Southmarch.”
“Hmmm. Pity. I have sent several letters but they are never answered.”
“The castle is besieged,” she pointed out.
“Oh, certainly, certainly. But ships are landing—other letters have got through. I heard from an old friend there, Okros Dioketian, only a month past.”
Briony dimly remembered Okros, a colleague of Chaven’s who had treated her brother during his fever. “I am sorry I cannot help you, sir.”
“And I am sorry to trouble you, Highness. I hope Chaven is well, but I fear for him. He was always very reliable in the past when I needed an answer from him, very prompt.”
By the time she had returned to her own chambers, Briony was full of frustration with her lot and itching to take some action. She burst in on Feival so abruptly that he jumped with a squeak and dropped the letter he was reading on the floor. “I want Finn,” she announced.
Feival swept up the sheets of paper. “Want him for what? Zosim’s fire, you gave me a start.”
“Hurry and send for him. I want to talk to him.” She glared at the letter. “What’s that? Another admirer for me? Or a threat of death, perhaps?”
“Nothing you want to bore yourself with, Highness.” He slipped the pages into his sleeve and stood. He was wearing a beautiful green doublet of slashed silk with gold underlining, and looked every inch the young Tessian nobleman. “I’ll fetch him. Have you eaten? There’s some chicken under a dish and some good brown bread. There might be some grapes left, as well…”
But Briony had begun pacing back and forth and was no longer listening.
“Does everyone in this cursed city think I have my eyes set on marrying the prince?” she demanded.
Finn looked at Feival. “What have you said to her?”
“Nothing! She came back in this temper.”
“Do me the courtesy of talking to me, not each other.” Still, she stopped pacing and sat in her chair facing Finn, who perched anxiously on the small bench that was ordinarily the resting place of diminutive ladies-in-waiting. “What do people think?”
“Of you, Highness? To be honest, your name is not much on the tongues of the Tessian groundlings, at least on the streets of the neighborhood in which you have so kindly lodged us. Southmarch is much discussed, of course, but that is because of the siege there and the presence of the fairies. The latest news is that the fairies have finally begun their siege in earnest—that they are trying to breach the walls—may the gods protect Southmarch!”