Queen Minna-Satu gazed out at the lush gardens that surrounded the Cotti King's palace. Beyond them was the pale stone city, and, beyond that, the desert's hot sands. She sat in the cool sanctuary of her morning room, her embroidery forgotten in her lap. Her handmaidens concentrated on their needlework, well accustomed to the Queen's penchant for staring into space.
Minna-Satu's mind wandered in the cool green valleys of her kingdom, far away across the burning sands, where springs flowed through verdant forests and rain fell in soft grey curtains. Her thoughts lingered far in the past, when her daughter had been born into a world ravaged by an endless war. She recalled the petal softness of her first-born's skin, her clear blue eyes and flaxen hair.
Kerra-Manu, Queen of Jashimari, was fifteen today, almost a young lady. Minna would never know her daughter, who thought her dead. Minna's former chief advisor, the Regent Chiana, raised Kerra. Much as she loved and trusted Chiana, Minna often wondered how Kerra fared, and longed to see her. That was impossible, however, and she had resigned herself to that fact long ago. It was the sacrifice she had been forced to make to end the war. Minna-Satu sighed and looked down at her embroidery. The swish of curtains made her glance up, a smile curling her lips as her husband entered the room. The maidens fell to the floor, prostrating themselves before the King.
Kerrion stopped to admire his wife, returning her smile. At forty, she retained the fresh beauty of youth, though lines of wisdom now marked her skin. No grey had yet touched her hair, and her slender figure retained the suppleness of a woman half her age. The handmaidens straightened at his gesture, keeping their heads bowed and their eyes lowered. They all had various shades of blonde hair, ranging from almost brown to pale gold, and were brown-eyed, golden-skinned girls of typical Cotti stock.
By contrast, Minna-Satu's pale skin offset the jet hair piled atop her head in gleaming coils, and dark lashes framed her blue eyes. The air of fragility that her delicate colouring and small stature bequeathed was belied by the will of iron that she possessed in abundance. He stepped aside to usher his sons into her presence, and the two boys ran to embrace their mother. The maidens departed at a wave of his hand, and he took his turn to hug Minna. He still considered her the most beautiful woman in all the land, and told her so often, smiling at her snorts of derision. To prove his undying love, he had taken no other wives or concubines, breaking the tradition of Cotti kings.
Kerrion sank down on a cushion and poured himself a cup of wine from the bottle on the table, glancing at the huge sand cat stretched out in a cool corner. The boys regaled their mother with their latest exploits, embroidering their tales with wild gestures and giggles. At least, Ashton did, being only twelve, while Shantar preferred to adopt a more mature mien. He was fourteen, and heir to the throne, a serious boy who took his duties to heart.
They were beautiful children, Kerrion reflected. He could not have wished for more handsome sons. They had inherited their mother's blue eyes, but while Ashton was as blond as his father, Shantar had his mother's dark hair and pale skin. He looked like a pure blooded Jashimari, unfortunate for the heir to the Cotti throne. As yet neither boy had bonded with a familiar, and he wondered, as he often did, what animal kin they were. With some children it was easy to tell from an early age, but his sons showed no signs yet. Most children bonded when they were younger than the princes, and Kerrion suspected that it was their lack of contact with the outside world, and in particular the beasts of Jashimari, which had delayed their finding their familiars. If they were meant to bond with animals that only dwelt in Jashimari, they would have to travel there to find them, something he kept meaning to do.
Kerrion slugged back his wine and stood, glancing at the sinking sun. "I must go. I have a meeting of lords to attend. I will see you later." He bent to kiss Minna, then ruffled Shantar's dark hair. "Look after your mother for me, Shantar. Ashton, behave yourself."
Minna splashed her face in the basin of cool water and straightened, patting her skin dry with a towel. The boys had gone to their rooms, and she was alone until Kerrion returned from his meeting. She liked to spend a little time alone each day, watching the sunset or reading a book. Shista had gone to the goat pens for a meal, as she did two or three times a week.
Minna glanced around at the sound of footsteps, and her eyes widened. Three brawny men strode towards her from the direction of the curtained doorway. Their dirty leather garb and scarred, brutish faces told her that they were hired thugs, thieves or cutthroats commonly found on the streets of Jadaya. She shouted for the guards who always stood outside her door as she dropped the towel and backed away, but she knew that no one would come to her aid. There was only one way in which such common criminals could find their way into the King's private wing of the palace. A prince was behind this, and her guards had doubtless been sent away.
Minna looked around for a weapon as the thugs approached her, their faces filled with triumph. The wine bottle was the only heavy object at hand, and she grabbed it as she bellowed for Shista. The bottle shattered on the nearest thug's head with a satisfying crash. A blow robbed her of her senses, and the world spun away into blackness.
Chiana relaxed on the balcony outside her room, which overlooked the Jashimari palace's vast gardens. The puffwood trees were in full bloom, scenting the air with sweet fragrance, and the fire trees' yellow flowers seemed to burn amid their scarlet leaves. The banners on the palace's outer walls rippled in the cool evening breeze that ruffled her hair, and sunset painted the sky with glorious red, gold and a brilliant, startling pink. The hiss of dream silk on a nearby temple intruded into her pleasant contemplation, and for the umpteenth time she wished she could ban the hated cloth. The church wielded too much power, however, and the old High Priestess, now a doddering crone, seemed to be immortal.
The wind freshened, making Chiana shiver and rub her arms to ward off the chill. The plain, dark grey cloth of her severely simple gown did little to prevent the night wind from cooling her skin. Since her husband had left, almost fifteen years ago, she had affected a mode of dress that had earned her several unwanted titles. She wore no colour other than the grey or black of mourning, and her gowns lacked any form of adornment. Her chestnut hair remained perpetually in a severe coil, and was devoid of jewels or gold. This had led to her being called the Widow Regent, the Black Lady and the Grey Virgin.
As far as she knew, she was not a widow, although she might as well be one. Now in her thirty-fifth year, she had been Regent of Jashimari for fifteen of them. Her term of office would continue for another ten years, unless her ward's father, the Cotti King, changed the law. Only then would she be able to leave the palace to seek her husband.
Chiana winced as a high-pitched shriek of rage ripped the silence asunder, echoing from the corridor outside her rooms. The guards outside her doors had instructions that she was not to be disturbed, and they were the only ones who could refuse entry to the one who now demanded it. Chiana knew all too well that the person outside would not give up and go away any time soon, but would continue to berate the guards until someone let her in. Turning from the sunset's fading glow, Chiana entered her sitting room and walked over to a table where a fresh pot of fragrant tea steamed on a silver tray.
The screams outside the thick wooden doors reached an ear-splitting crescendo, and a sprinkling of clearly enunciated curses thickened the air. Chiana's brows rose as she added cream and sugar to her tea, stirring it. The guards were well trained, and experienced in dealing with the person who demanded entry. They would remain unmoved by the stream of invective, their spears crossed before the doors to bar entry to the one who spouted the verbal abuse being aired so volubly outside. The Regent sighed and glanced at a handmaiden who stood in the shadows, then waved a hand towards the doors, indicating that they should be opened.
As the doors swung wide, the spears were pulled aside, and silence fell. Chiana turned to face the slender, golden-haired girl who marched in, her pale skin flushed with anger and blue eyes sparkling. Queen Kerra-Manu, hereditary monarch of Jashimari, swept the room with a furious glance. The handmaiden prostrated herself as she announced the girl's entrance.
"The Queen."
Chiana inclined her head in gracious acknowledgement and raised her soft grey gaze to meet the angry eyes that burnt under knotted brows. Kerra's pretty mouth was twisted with ire, and the rich silk of her turquoise gown was bunched in one fist. White lace trimmed its hem and sleeves, and gold brocade ornamented the bodice that clasped the Queen's tiny waist. A diamond pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat, and ruby earrings winked through the veil of her hair. Kerra's beauty, though still blurred by youth, had the potential to outrank even her mother's one day.
Kerra-Manu approached the Regent and stopped before her with a flounce. Although she was still a couple of inches shorter than Chiana, her long limbs held the promise of more growth still to come.
"How dare you order your guards to keep me out?" Kerra demanded.
Chiana picked up the teacup and raised it to her lips. Sipping the steaming, scented brew in a leisurely manner, she allowed the Queen to seethe for a minute before she put the cup back on the tray and turned to face Kerra.
"I did not wish to be disturbed."
"No one should dare to bar me from any part of my palace."
"We have been over this before, Kerra."
"I'm fifteen! I'm no longer a child!"
"Mend your speech."
Kerra snorted. "I am the Queen! I will not be denied by a bunch of boy-buggering guards."
"If you wish to be treated like a queen, then you should try to act and speak like one."
"What would you know about it? You are not a queen, never have been and never will be one."
Chiana sighed. "I had the privilege of knowing your mother. I know how a queen should act."
"My mother is dead! I am the Queen, and you are only the Regent."
"I am well aware of my status, but until you are five and twenty years old, I rule this kingdom."
"But not me!" Kerra said. "I do not take orders from you, and you do not have the right to bar me from your rooms."
Chiana reined her temper with an effort, closing her eyes to block out Kerra's scowling face. Raising a child who outranked everyone had proven difficult. Kerra, at first a sweet-tempered girl, had soon realised that no one dared to curtail her, and had grown spoilt. Jashimari law did not make allowance for this situation. Kerra should have been raised by her mother, and remained a princess until she was twenty-five.
Kerra's rank precluded any form of chastisement, and Chiana despaired of controlling the girl. The young Queen ignored her teachers and tormented her nursemaids, even played unpleasant pranks on the servants. Chiana had tried to occupy her by inviting the daughters of several high-ranking lords and ladies to be her companions, but they had soon left after tasting Kerra's venomous tongue. Although not a vindictive or spiteful child by nature, Kerra harboured a deep resentment about her lack of a mother, and took some satisfaction in venting her pain on others.
By the time she was ten years old, Kerra was out of control, and in desperation Chiana had written to Kerrion, asking for help or advice. Despite his promise to visit his daughter every year, he had become caught up in matters of state and his new family. Although he wrote to her often and sent many gifts, he had not been to Jashimari since Kerra was a tenday old.
Chiana had disliked being forced to turn to him for aid. She still held him responsible for the death of Minna-Satu. Kerrion had surprised her by visiting his daughter, and she recalled their first meeting. His high rank and noble bearing had awed Kerra, who was a model of good behaviour for the duration of his visit. Kerrion had spent an entire moon phase in Jashimari, and taught Kerra a great deal. When he left, Kerra begged to go with him, and wept when he refused, but since then he had been the key to controlling the young Queen.
Chiana folded her hands around the teacup. "I am entitled to some privacy, even from you. If you object to this so much, perhaps I should write to your father and ask his opinion in the matter. Would you like that?"
"No!" The fire went out of Kerra's eyes, and her shoulders slumped. The change that the mention of Kerrion's name evinced always fascinated Chiana. It was as if a switch was thrown inside Kerra, and she became a different person.
Chiana sipped her tea and replaced the cup on the tray once more. "So, tell me what has upset you."
"My maid will only bring me watered wine. I am fifteen, I should have proper wine." Kerra's eyes glinted, but she spoke in a polite tone.
"I see." Chiana turned and sank down on a cushion. "I have told you that you may not have strong drink until you are eighteen."
"Have you asked my father what he thinks?"
"He would have you drink milk until you are five and twenty. You will find no sympathy from him."
Kerra frowned. "I shall write to him, in any case."
"So you should. Have you finished your lessons for today?"
"No. My teacher is boring. I demand a new one."
"Perhaps your father would like to hear of your preference in this matter too?"
"He would not wish me to be bored."
"Nor would he wish you to be ignorant. He may decide to send another Cotti elder to teach you manners."
Kerra strived to hide a shudder, clearly remembering all too well the disastrous situation from which Chiana had saved her. Kerrion had sent a Cotti master to give Kerra lessons in etiquette, and the man's high-handed ways and insistence on subservience had incensed the Jashimari Queen. Chiana had stepped in before the two had come to blows, and sent him back to Jadaya accompanied by a letter that detailed the problem. Kerrion had not sent another teacher, and Kerra had paid good attention to her Jashimari tutors for some time after that.
"I will go and finish my lessons." Kerra swung away in a swirl of rich skirts and headed for the door, clearly eager to quit the Regent's company and her threats of patriarchal intervention.
Alone once more, Chiana gazed at the brightening stars and thought about the only other man whom she was certain would be able to control the young Queen, even though he did not outrank her. She still missed him terribly, despite the fact that she had received no word from him in fifteen years. No one knew of his whereabouts, or even if he still lived, although she was certain he did. The Lord Protector of Jashimari was a hard man to kill, or to forget, she had discovered. His face was etched in her mind as clearly as it was on the canvas hidden in the darkest recess of her room, covered with a black silk cloth.
Chiana sipped her tea and found it cold. Shaking herself from her reverie, she noticed that the lamps were lighted and dusk had passed some time-glasses ago. Rising, she shook the wrinkles from her skirt and walked to the alcove where she ate her solitary meals. Her frugal repast consisted of grilled butter fish and steamed treth greens, and her slender figure owed much to her dislike for rich food.
As she toyed with her dinner, she wondered what her husband looked like now. Certainly older, his hair perhaps touched with grey, his features coarsened by drinking and fighting in the sleazy taverns he was inclined to visit too frequently. She recalled his soft, seductive voice and the icy glance of his wintry grey eyes. He was forty-five now, an age when most men ran to fat and lost interest in strenuous pursuits. She sipped the tart wine without noticing its youth, and allowed her mind to wander through the garden of her memories, enjoying, as she always did, the encounters with her husband there.