“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Too much to worry about-I needed to see for myself.”
Taje looked at her, sleepy, and suddenly very old to her eyes. He’d see a young princess with a mess of Calirath black hair shot with gold strands, too tall for proper elegance, and with deep bags under her eyes, she thought, and brushed her hair back with one hand in an automatic attempt to smooth it.
Miss Balthar would have seen to making Andrin’s appearance sleek and regal if not actually beautiful and elegant…if Andrin had actually woken her staff for proper dressing before slipping off to check on the Privy Council’s work. She knew she really should have, but she’d been too impatient, too jumpy within her own skin, to worry about “should haves,” and she’d seen no reason anyone else should be dragged out of bed at such an unholy hour. Even Finena, her imperial peregrine falcon, was still back in the rooms resting with her night hood on-the poor bird would squawk enough to deafen a full wing of the Great Palace if she woke with Andrin missing from the room-although at least she hadn’t quite been foolish enough to go anywhere without an armed guard.
That much of the duty of a Calirath she’d not failed at this morning.
“Never mind, Shamir. I shouldn’t have come out here.” She rubbed her own eyes feeling the weight of the lost hours of sleep. “I’d hoped to see the list of marriage candidates, but it was probably foolish for me to come involve myself. I’m sure your council has everything well in hand.”
The concern didn’t leave the first councilor’s face. “Did you have some reason to think it wasn’t? Did you have a Glimpse?”
“No.” Andrin hastened to reassure him. “Just simple marriage jitters. It’s nothing, really. Please, forget I came.” At the deepening furrow in Shamir Taje’s brow, she added, “I just needed to be sure there’d be at least one good choice on the list.”
She lifted her eyes to the first councilor, hoping he would understand all the things she couldn’t articulate, sometimes even to herself. Janaki had trained to be her father’s heir all his life. Andrin hadn’t, and she felt horribly ill-prepared. At this particular moment she felt more like a little girl than a woman about to turn eighteen and make a dynastic marriage to secure the Empire of Sharona.
Taje nodded slowly and took a long sip from his cup, regarding the crown princess with more understanding-and sympathy-than she might have believed he could. But the list she was looking for, the list of all the eligible Uromathian princes from which she must select her future consort, wasn’t in the unprotected open on his desk.
The office’s security was good enough he could probably have left even so important a document and all its related notes in plain view, but he had far too much concern for Andrin’s future-and Sharona’s-to do anything so careless. Even in an interior office in the Calirath Palace, with windows that opened only to the secure courtyard and hallways patrolled by the Imperial Guard, some horrible mistake might happen.
So he used the heavy oak cabinets that lined his office study and wore the key to their locks on a chain around his neck.
“One moment, Your Highness. I’ll show you the draft. It isn’t final, you understand. But I can show you what we have so far.”
He made a quick circuit of the room, dropping the window curtains and securing the door while Lazima chan Zindico moved deftly out of his way with the sure experience of a man who knew exactly which security moves to expect. Taje produced his key and opened the largest of the cabinets. For this project, the Privy Council had amassed great piles of notes…and all of them had either been carefully burned and stirred in the study’s fireplace or banded and filed here in the wall cabinet. He proffered a few sheaves, and the crown princess snatched them eagerly from his hands.
“This isn’t the complete list yet. There are likely a few more names we might add.”
Andrin wasn’t listening. Her eyes had stopped a third of the way down the second page: Howan Fai Goutin, Crown Prince of Eniath.
“Oh. Oh, good! I suppose there was no reason to worry at all.”
She handed the list back to the first councilor, who checked the sheet and smiled at her choice.
“We weren’t going to forget the Eniath prince, Your Highness,” he said gently.
“Well, no, I suppose not.” Andrin acknowledged, ducking her head just slightly. The motion conveyed sheepishness, but, Taje noted, the crown princess’s Calirath spine had stayed regally straight. Lady Merissa Vankhal would have approved. “I just wanted to be sure. There might have been concern about his family being too easily pressured by the Busar line, or maybe there were others that would look better on paper, or he could have already been married but not mentioned it when we spoke, I mean, I think he might have mentioned that, but-”
“He is certainly not already married.” Taje broke in to soothe the crown princess’s concerns. “The Privy Council will be reviewing all the details of these candidates to provide dossiers to you during this week before you meet once more with the Conclave to announce your choice.”
“To me?” The surprise in Andrin’s tone reminded him just how new his crown princess was to the heirship. She had the backbone to fight Uromathia on the Conclave floor, but demanding her due from the Winged Crown’s staff didn’t yet come naturally.
“Yes, Your Highness. We’ll be making our report to you. Nothing we may find will lessen the importance of your choice, but we hope to provide as much clarity on the candidates as we may.” An idea occurred to him. The crown princess’s schedule was absurdly busy, but perhaps a few things could be moved. “You’d be welcome to come to our deliberations if you’d like to hear the details.”
“Yes.” Andrin nodded, slowly. “I’d very much like to hear the details.”
Taje responded with a decisive nod of his own. “We’ve been working through lunch and some of the staff have been all but sleeping in my office. It’s a tight fit when we all get in here, but I think it would do the council well to get to know you better anyway. We are your council as well as your father’s.”
Andrin agreed wholeheartedly, and felt a touch of chagrin as she realized this was exactly the sort of thing Janaki would have done. She should have thought of it for herself, and a part of her scolded herself for failing to do so. But another part of her understood exactly why she hadn’t. Intellectually, she knew her brother was dead and gone, leaving her suddenly in the role of heir. She’d managed to accept that much, terrible though the shock had been, but all the other bits and pieces, like sitting in on Privy Council deliberations, still felt foreign and a touch like usurping her older brother’s prerogatives.
Andrin quashed the thought. That was a perspective Chava Busar would want her to have-a way of thinking that he could use to keep her ignorant and uninvolved in the workings of the empire-while one of his sons sat in Janaki’s place instead of Janaki’s blood. As Janaki’s sister, she owed it to him to become the kind of empress Sharona needed.
“I’d be very pleased to attend the Privy Council’s deliberations. And also-” Andrin caught the First Councilor’s eyes. “I apologize for sneaking into your office. I should simply have asked.”
Taje bowed. “To be sure. But perhaps the Privy Council should have thought to invite you. We still, myself included unfortunately, think of you too much as our Emperor’s young daughter and not enough as our future Empress.” He bowed again more deeply. “I, too, apologize.”
The First Councilor had a few minutes more to consider his crown princess’ face as she waited for her guardsman to clear the hallway. The extra security in place in Tajvana felt extreme compared to Ternathia, and yet it was necessary.
The Great Palace had been occupied by the Order of Bergahl for over two hundred years. Outwardly, the turrets, walls, and towers appeared unchanged to the point of disrepair. Inside, the changes were random-likely chosen for modern opulence with little thought for either architectural cohesion or imperial security. Hundreds of years of excess hadn’t been and couldn’t be put to rights in an instant…and there was always the possibility that the present Seneschal or one of his predecessors might have made changes which had nothing at all to do with modernization and quite a lot to do with less savory considerations. At the moment, however, Taje was more concerned with his princess’ emotions than any questions about her physical security.