Chapter 1

There could be no doubt in his mind. She was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. The fact that she was also his queen lent an added tinge of awe, so that he sank to his knees rather more precipitately than he had planned, and held out his sword in hands that shook as if he had the ague.

The golden vision in front of him--above him, as indeed she should be, for ever--smiled sweetly, in a way that made Roddri's heart turn over in his breast. He had not been prepared for such a vision. Now, dazzled, he opened his mouth with a gasp, praying that he would have more control over his tongue than over his hands. "My sword is at your command, for...ready for whatever command is given in the name of King Therorn and of your gracious majesty." There, he had managed it well enough, and dared to raise his eyes.

Her eyes were a warm brown, dazzling with golden flecks. The smooth curves of her full lips still smiled at him.

"Welcome to our court, Sir Roddri. Your service is welcome to us. Rise now, and take your seat at the upper tables. Feast with us. May it be the beginning of a long and fruitful career."

He stammered his thanks, and got to his feet, returning his sword to its scabbard accurately enough, but his confidence suffered a further check when, turning, he almost tripped over his own feet. Surely every eye must be focused on him. He blushed for his clumsiness, but though there was a rising hum of conversation around him, he thought it not unfriendly.

A beckoning hand indicated where he was meant to sit. Like a ship battling through the rocks of a reef, he steered his course around brightly-clad groups and reached haven at last.

His sister Daverith shook her head in mock dismay. "My dear, you should have practised a little longer. I vow, I have not seen you so much at a loss since we were children."

He grinned sheepishly, recovering his composure a little now that the worst was over. "Daverith, that is unfair. I'd like to see you out there on your own, with everyone watching you."

"A braggart as well," she teased. "What makes you think all were watching you, young sir?"

While he fell silent, mindful of where his own eyes had been fixed, Daverith's attention was claimed by her neighbour saying, "Pray present me. Your brother, I gather."

Roddri bowed in the direction of this second lady, an elderly dame whose greying hair was largely concealed beneath a magnificent but daunting headdress where scarlet, turquoise and gold interwove in intricate swathes over cauls of gold mesh.

Her sharp eyes appraised him, but her smile was friendly enough as she commented, "Hmm, a likely young lad. Don't be too harsh with him, Daverith. We were all young fools once, and entitled to be clumsy once in a while.

"Your first time at court, is it not?" she continued, addressing Roddri in an encouraging way.

"Yes, madam, and I hope to spend much of my time here, now that I see its splendours."

"Splendours, you call them? Yes, splendid indeed, if you like bright-coloured shells, empty inside."

Roddri forbore to point out what her own tastes appeared to be. "Madam, until I have looked inside those shells, how should I know what they contain?"

The elderly dame gave a sharp crack of laughter. "Go and look your fill then, young man, but be careful. Daverith, be sure to take him around after the meal and introduce him to some of the other ornaments of this court."

Servants appeared at this point with steaming platters of food, and their attention was concentrated instead on this for some time. For Roddri, however, hungry as he was, the food was relatively unimportant. As they ate, his eyes roved constantly round the room, catching a kaleidoscope of faces, colours, movement. Now and again he nudged Daverith, enquiring discreetly who some particular person might be. She replied patiently, humouring his curiosity, though laughingly sure that he would not recall half the names he was hearing.

"Yes, that's true," he admitted. "Never mind. You shall have the pleasure of telling me a second time, and chiding me for my poor memory. Now, who is the tall man next to Queen Tyrla, the one who just said something to make her laugh?"

"Oh, that is Lord Alcor--a good man to have as your friend, but woe betide any who cross him. He never forgets a grievance, but is equally kindly to those who please him. He could be of use to you, Roddri."

He nodded, but a little abstractedly. Lord Alcor's possible patronage was of less interest just then than the fact that he so plainly held the queen's attention. How glorious she looked when she laughed, and how he wished he were in Lord Alcor's shoes. Best not to linger too long on that thought. Daverith would sense which way the wind was blowing, and he did not want that. Not yet, at any rate.

Pretending to find another source of interest, he cast his gaze farther, and found a genuine wonder. "That girl over by the window...who is she? Surely she is not...?"

Daverith sniffed. "Yes, you are right. Lady Zimara, if you please. An Imp in our midst. Lord Kerrith and his wife adopted her, goodness knows why, and had her presented at the court last year, though she is a few years your junior, I fancy. I have had little to do with her myself. Ildo would have been most disapproving, as I am sure you would guess. She seems remarkably well-mannered, all things considered."

Roddri's surprise was gradually being overcome by his curiosity. The girl in question could hardly fail to be noticed as different. In a room full of tall, well-built people whose hair ranged from golden-blonde to autumn red, her wild dark beauty and slight stature made her as alien as a star in a midday sky.

"She is something quite out of the common way. Intriguing. I wonder if she is happy here. She looks a trifle aloof."

"Oh, I expect she is happy enough," his sister answered. "I have not the slightest idea what Lord Kerrith proposes to do with her in the end, but presumably he has some plan. I suppose she is reasonably attractive, though too thin." With a satisfied smile she smoothed down the gleaming folds of her robe over her own well-rounded form.

Roddri suppressed a grin.

The meal finished, Daverith led her brother around to various groups, introducing him to a host of nobles whose names he had no hope of remembering, and leaving him finally with one whom he should remember. Lord Alcor. Her duty thus discharged for the moment, she felt free to return to her seat, where that same lady who had been her neighbour at the table accosted her again.

"A good-looking lad, Daverith, is he not?" she said once more, her old eyes somewhat wistfully noting the tall young figure recently broadened into full manhood, and the strong square lines of his face set off by a pair of frank and honest brown eyes and thick reddish-blonde hair.

"If I were twenty years younger... However, a grandmother is not supposed to display such emotions. On a more practical note, have you any other brothers? What are his expectations?"

Daverith pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. "He's no great catch as yet, ma'am, though he has fair expectations. There are only the three of us, and my elder brother Elgred will inherit the bulk of the estates. Roddri has a couple of manors and their lands to his name. We have hopes that, if he is fortunate here at court, he may add to them--but who knows what will happen?"

"Hmm. He seems to be taking a step in the right direction, then, at the moment. You did well to introduce him in that quarter, Daverith."

Sublimely unconscious that he was being so candidly discussed, the object of their scrutiny was meanwhile politely answering questions put to him by Alcor, who seemed disposed to view him kindly.

"You are welcome to me for your father's sake, and I hope soon for your own. We must see what we can do for you. Any interest in travelling? To the northern provinces, for example?"

"Yes indeed, my lord. I am eager for new experiences, and should like to see as much of Langisvelda as possible."

"Good, good. You have a fair training in arms, I presume? As you know, we must always be on guard in the north to prevent our people from being harassed by the Imps."

"I am generally accounted to be reasonably skilled," Roddri admitted deprecatingly. "Is the problem so great still?"

"Not nearly as much as it was in former times, I grant you, but we must be vigilant always." He continued with more detailed questions, to which Roddri replied as best he could; but all the while half of his attention was on the figure who had moved up to stand there beside Alcor, silent but smiling.

Eventually she spoke. "You must not send this young man away from the palace too soon, Lord Alcor."

"Why so, my lady?" he enquired, the faint beginnings of a frown on his forehead.

"Give him time to become better acquainted with all of us at court," she continued, her voice softening, the smile becoming sweeter.

Alcor gave a barely suppressed grunt of annoyance. For a Langisveldan, he was darker of hair and complexion than usual. Even Roddri, whose attention was still elsewhere, noted that his face seemed to darken further. Why this sudden change in one who had been all affability a minute before? An unwelcome little question mark popped into his mind, but was instantly dispelled by the queen's light ripple of laughter.

"Oh, I know you keep your eye open for men of talent, my lord," she said, "but you must not be over-zealous, you know. As you said, we have no immediate threats. Learn to relax a little. Forget the heavy cares of your duty, at least for a while."

She touched his arm lightly, and Alcor's frown lifted. "As you wish, my lady; always, as you wish."

Again Roddri caught the echo of words unsaid, and judged it time to take himself off. He bowed, murmured a few words of thanks, and said he believed he saw his sister beckoning him. "Will you permit me to leave you now, my lady?"

Queen Tyrla inclined her head gracefully. "Why, certainly, Sir Roddri. But pray remember that we--both of us--will be expecting to see more of you in the future."

* * * *

Roddri sat silent beside Daverith in her carriage, as the horses trotted down through the town and across the river. He had plenty of food for thought--a veritable banquet, indeed. Looking back over the evening, he alternately blushed for his original clumsiness, felt confident over the start he had made toward gaining his fortune, and glowed at the memory of Queen Tyrla's smile.

His sister stifled a yawn, "A reasonable beginning, little brother. Keep your wits about you, and I've no doubt you will find yourself rewarded.

"Other evenings at the palace will be more amusing for you, once you become acquainted with more people. Tomorrow, for example, there will be dancing--a good chance for you to impress people, as long as you know the steps, and do not tread on your partner's gown."

"I have had little chance to practise recently. What shall I do? There is too little time."

His sister smiled. "We will have to spend some time tomorrow then. See how good I am to you, for I will even volunteer to dance with you, and again in the evening."

"So you will go too? What about Ildo?"

"Ildo? Why should he worry? Don't be so old-fashioned, Roddri. We are very attached to each other, of course, but I don't enquire too closely into what he does when he is away, and I am sure it is no business of his if I betake myself to a ball in his absence."

Somewhat abashed, Roddri forbore to ask any more questions, and upon their arrival back at the elegant mansion where his sister lived when she was in the town, he thanked her again for her exertions on his behalf, and went slowly off to bed.

His was a sumptuously-furnished bedchamber, provided with everything he could require, with a sleepy servant hovering deferentially outside the door. But once he had been given a basin of warm water, Roddri dismissed the servant, blew out all but one candle, and gave himself up once more to his thoughts.

Now that he was quite alone, those thoughts were free to take wings and soar into a golden sky. Ah, the beauty of Queen Tyrla, the bright sparkle of her eyes, the smooth silkiness of her skin. How kind she had been to him, a young unknown with so little to offer as yet.

Plainly she valued other men who served her, notably Lord Alcor, but it seemed to Roddri that she smiled no less upon himself. If he were to acquit himself well in whatever tasks were set him, she would admit him also to the charmed group within the circle of her sunshine. He had pledged himself to be her devoted servant, and he would give his all for her sake.

He had thought sleep would be impossible while his mind was excited by dreams of a fortunate future, but somehow his eyes were starting to feel heavy, and he yawned cavernously. Hardly had he blown out the final candle and climbed into bed than he was fast asleep.

Spring flowers. Whenever he called to mind that next evening, the perfume of them, enhanced by the warm night air, was suddenly, mysteriously, in his nostrils again. The evening was just cool enough for Daverith to fling on a light cloak for their short journey, but all the windows in the great ballroom at the palace still stood unshuttered.

Roddri had been assured by his sister, with mild astonishment, that he danced well; and, with less astonishment, that he was suitably clad for the occasion in his best doublet of dark green, decorated with spirals of golden braid. He was less sure about other matters. When they found themselves listening to the stately strains of the first dance, he hissed in panic at his sister, "How do I get me a partner? You never told me."

"Of course I did. You cannot have been paying attention." she retorted, equally discreetly. "We must let the first dance pass. It is for the highest nobility only. I will partner you for the next one. After that, ask where you please. Your birth is respectable enough that none should refuse you."

"None?"

"Do not ask the queen, of course. Only a select few have that privilege, though it is possible she may ask you, if she so desires. I don't have to tell you what to say in that case, I am sure."

That was hardly likely to happen, thought Roddri as he took Daverith's hand to lead her on to the floor for the next dance. In slow and graceful measure, couples advanced, bowing, turning, with ample opportunity for eloquent glances, secret exchange of words, or movements designed to show off rich and costly garments, or the figures beneath.

Roddri was still concentrating more on the steps than on anything else, though his confidence was growing, along with his pleasure in the rhythm of the movements and the sweet harmony of the music.

Shortly afterwards, he somewhat shyly advanced on a pretty young woman. "My lady, will you honour me with the next dance?"

"Why, of course." she answered, and bestowed on him a charming smile. "Your sister did introduce us earlier. But confess, you have forgotten my name."

"Only because my attention was held by your beauty, my lady."

She laughed, and her eyes twinkled responsively. "Perhaps, while we dance, you will have time to refresh your memory--of my name, I mean."

Much emboldened by a series of such encounters, he paused eventually for a refreshing drink, and strolled around the room a little, enjoying the sight of so much vivid colour and gaiety. Now that he had leisure to take in the scene around him, his eyes was caught once again by the dark beauty of Lady Zimara. Her overgown of musky pink in a flowered brocade curved elegantly down her slender body to flow into heavy folds at her feet. Her shining black hair bore no ornament but a small circlet of silver set with pearls. Whatever his sister's strictures on her looks had been, to Roddri she looked a very attractive girl, though her pensive expression made him wonder yet again if she were happy in this setting.

On an impulse he crossed the room and bowed before her.

"Roddri of Wellingmar, at your command, my lady. Would you care to dance?"

She gave him a slightly startled look from eyes which at close hand were not black but a very dark blue, the sombre smoky colour of cloud before a thunderstorm. "Are you sure that is your wish?" she asked him in return, with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Of course I am sure. Believe me, my lady, there is no other reason I would ask you."

Zimara looked down, and a blush spread over her face. Roddri noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. He waited patiently for her answer.

"I beg you, forgive me, sir. You have said nothing amiss. It was unpardonable of me to be so rude."

Still he was puzzled. "Pray do not mention it, my lady. Do not fret yourself. Will you dance with me?"

She gave an uncertain little laugh, saying softly, "Sir, since you do me the honour of asking twice, why yes, I will. I am very grateful to you."

Shyly she put out her hand, and he took it in his own, noting that hers felt a little chilly. "Come, this is to be a fast dance, a chance to warm up. I enjoy the galandaise, do not you?"

Zimara nodded. Her face brightened as she followed him into a set that was now forming.

She danced as if she loved every second of it, as if the music flowed in her very bones. Roddri found himself responding to her joy with renewed vigour and enthusiasm. They had neither time nor breath for further talk, but at the dance's conclusion Roddri said, "That was capital. How well our steps go together, my lady. I hope I may partner you again."

Zimara's smile faded suddenly, inexplicably, only for a second, but Roddri could not help noticing. "What is the matter?" he asked quietly. "I see that something is bothering you. Shall we walk out on to the terrace for a while? If you like you can tell me what it is."

He took her sigh for assent, and led her through the tall doors to the paved terrace outside. Here it was quieter, cooler, with trees just fluttering their leaves in the gentlest of breezes. Only a few couples were visible, and they talked in murmurs.

Zimara stopped abruptly, and spoke in agitated tones. "Sir, again I must ask your forgiveness. You have been all kindness to me, and it is quite unfair for me to be burdening you with any small difficulties I may have."

"Ah, no, my lady. Small or large, they will be diminished by telling another person. Can I assume that somebody has said or done something to upset you earlier this evening?"

"Yes, but I should not have allowed it to worry me. Goodness knows I should be accustomed by now to being jeered at for my birth."

This time the bitterness was unmistakable, so naked that Roddri almost felt it as something physical.

"Confess, my lord. Did you not have some reservations yourself about hobnobbing with the enemy? 'Twas kind of you to put them behind you, but I am sure they existed."

Thus reminded of his first reaction, Roddri could not help but look abashed for a second. Then, making a stout recovery, he said, "I must be honest. Our two races have been so long at enmity that my first reaction was a very negative one. How could it have been otherwise? But you are here, in our court, presented by Lord Kerrith. When I spoke to you, I became ashamed of my own first misgivings. Surely there are many others who have befriended you here?"

"There are indeed some," she admitted, "and were it not for those friendly ones, I would not wish to remain here another day. But I feel I should warn you, sir, that to be seen speaking with me will put you in disfavour in certain quarters. Some may not say it to your face. Others will be less reticent.

"Now, sir, do you still wish to dance with me again? And be assured, if you say no, I will not think the worse of you for it. I know exactly what it feels like to be swimming against the stream. If some other can choose the easier course, why, I rejoice in his good fortune.

"There, I have said too much, as usual. I did not intend to read you such a lecture, but I was so vexed earlier that my tongue ran away with me. You may lead me indoors now and bid me farewell, if you will." She laughed lightly, as if it were all some amusing jest, a mere game.

Roddri hesitated for a moment before making a reply. For one thing, his mind was rapt in contemplation of a voice so musical that she seemed to make a song of even the most commonplace words. For another, he was trying to work out his best course of action. To his credit, none of his choices included repudiating any future claims to acquaintance with an Imp.

Finally he opted for a very simple course. "Come, " he said, and closed his hand over hers again. "You have honoured me with your confidence, and I begin to understand a little of your problems. The music is starting again. Shall we have one more dance?"

It was a slower dance, a lilting, swaying whisper of a tune that flowed with them and through them, catching them in its embrace, bearing them onwards like a wave on the ocean, to wash them gently ashore at last, its echo lingering in their hearts. Brown eyes looked into deep blue eyes, and could not understand what they saw. Their breathing quickened. The sound of other voices faded to a distant hush. The whole room seemed to be tilting, swinging slowly on the memory of a magical wave.

Zimara's lips parted, but no word emerged. Roddri felt the hand that was in his shiver, ever so slightly, and somehow, almost without his knowledge, his right arm tightened gently on her waist.

"There you are at last, Roddri. I have been looking all over for you. Lord Verrugal has been wanting to be introduced." Daverith's voice was so loud that Roddri almost jumped. The moment shattered like a bubble of glass.

Zimara murmured a somewhat disjointed farewell, and fled to the other side of the room. Roddri turned to his sister, finding it strangely difficult to focus on her face.

"I only wished to be of assistance," she began, a little uncertainly. "Lord Verrugal, this is my young brother Roddri. I am sure he is just as anxious to meet you as you are to meet him." She bowed and turned away.

The magic that had swelled up so unexpectedly to intoxicate Roddri's senses began to ebb. He was still conscious of a racing heartbeat, and the desire to look back over his shoulder for Zimara. Lord Verrugal's cough recalled him to the dictates of good manners. He refocused his wandering attention as the other spoke.

"Young sir, Queen Tyrla bade me bring you to her, for she would have further conversation with you. As well, I am empowered to offer you an apartment here in the palace, along with a certain appointment which the queen herself will tell you of more exactly."

His words were dry and unemotional; but their meaning was clear. Not a time to show reluctance in his response. The echoes of a dance tune still called to Roddri, but must be set aside for now. With eager tread he followed the older man across the hall to where the queen sat waiting.

Tonight Queen Tyrla was glinting in green and silver, her long-sleeved undergown of silver tissue that seemed to burn with a white flame as she moved, while the overgown of jade green had deeply-slit sides laced to mould her body. With one slender hand she indicated a spot next to her chair, and smiled her welcome.

"Lord Verrugal has told you some of my wishes?"

"Yes, my lady, about living in the palace."

"And what say you to that, Sir Roddri? Would it please you to dwell here, at the centre of our kingdom?"

Conflicting emotions clashed in Roddri's heart. Part of him wanted badly to say yes, prompted by curiosity, excitement--and good sense--but another part of him pleaded for caution still. Why was he being favoured, so soon after his arrival at the court?

"If you think it right, my lady," he answered slowly, "but I would have some useful occupation. I do not mean to waste my time."

"Indeed. Well said. I have it in mind to offer you a position also. Hear me. There is a certain group of gentlemen here who serve as my personal squires. Their duties are not too arduous. They are simply to see that all is arranged as I wish it, whether I go riding, or travel to a distant manor, or plan a special feast or a tournament. Many of these squires are then given a higher position, once they have proved their worth. Would you be willing to join them?"

Roddri drew in his breath sharply. His family had urged him to come to Avveling for just such a reason, and his own intelligence told him to make the most of his opportunities. It simply seemed too good to be true, and to top it all the offer came from his queen, his goddess almost, divine in her beauty and kindness.

"Your majesty... I know not how to thank you fittingly for this honour. I do indeed accept, with much pleasure."

He would have stumbled over more sentences, had she not put up a hand to stop him. "No more. Your acceptance is enough. Come dance with me now, the first of many such occasions, I hope." She stretched out her hand imperiously.

Roddri took it as gingerly as if he expected to be struck by lightning. How could he dance with a queen? What if he trod on her gown, forgot the steps, tripped over his own feet... The list of potential disasters was endless.

Before any of them could occur, the queen was admonishing him gently. "Roddri, I will not break if you touch my waist. You have strong hands, but I am not so fragile as you seem to think."

Blushing, he did his best to comply, wondering whether she could tell also that he was burning hot all over, wondering whether she was laughing with him or at him. By dint of much concentration, he managed to reach the music's final chord with his self-esteem still in one piece, but he had not dared look once at his partner's face.

Now, as they walked back towards her seat, he was startled to hear her say, very low, almost inaudibly, "Roddri, do not underrate yourself. You will go far. You have my word on that."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he turned his head to gaze full at her. She was smiling still. Always smiling.

"Yes, 'tis true. Leave me now, or we shall have every tongue in the palace wagging behind your back. Go to Lord Verrugal for further advice. I will see more of you in future."

For the second time that night, Roddri had the feeling that his feet were no longer anywhere near the ground.

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