The Queen's Mage

Chapter 166: “It Is First Sun”

Serali had expected First Sun to be ceremonial.

This was not because she had learned nothing from the Harvest Festival. She had learned several things from the Harvest Festival.

Avalusians liked lanterns. They liked dancing.

They liked food sold from temporary stalls in quantities that suggested no one had eaten for several weeks beforehand.

They liked music played loudly enough that conversation became an exercise in determination.

They apparently liked putting ribbons on almost anything that remained still long enough to permit it.

Serali had found the entire affair overwhelming. She had also been arrested before the night was over, which had somewhat colored the experience.

But First Sun was different. First Sun was religious.

There would be hymns. Candles. Perhaps a stately procession in which everyone walked too slowly while pretending not to be cold.

Solemn words about winter ending. Symbolic bread. Possibly a bell at sunrise if the Sun Fae became dangerously emotional.

She had expected, in short, something considerably more restrained than Harvest.

Then the drums started.

Serali stopped three paces from the palace doors.

Mara nearly walked into her.

The sound rolled through the stone beneath their feet.

Drums. Several of them.

Then fiddles joined in. Then flutes. Then cheering.

Then, inexplicably, what sounded like several dozen children screaming.

Serali looked at Mara.

Mara looked back.

”I was told there would be a lantern procession.”

”There is.”

”That sounds like a military engagement.”

”I believe that is dancing.”

More cheering erupted outside. Serali considered retreat.

Mara opened the doors before she could.

Cold air swept into the corridor.

So did light.

Serali stepped outside—

And discovered that the Harvest Festival had apparently represented Avalusian restraint.

The palace square had transformed.

Hundreds of lanterns burned against the last dark of winter. Gold and amber and white hung from poles, balconies, vendor frames, temple arches, and the bare branches of winter trees. Music collided cheerfully from several directions at once. Food stalls crowded the edges of the square. Long tables disappeared beneath baskets of bread and cakes and steaming kettles. Dancers had already claimed one section of the stones.

And people.

Gods. People everywhere.

Serali stopped at the top of the palace steps. ”This is larger than Harvest.”

”Yes.”

”Significantly larger.”

”Yes.”

”I thought the religious festival would be more restrained.”

Mara’s mouth twitched. ”No?”

”No.”

Another drum joined the others. Apparently there had been room.

”Why?”

”It is First Sun.”

Serali waited.

Mara did not elaborate.

Serali was beginning to suspect that ‘it is First Sun’ was considered a complete explanation for otherwise indefensible behavior.

Then she saw Allandra.

And forgot the square.

Allandra stood several yards away speaking quietly with Daravan.

She turned at the sound of the doors.

Stopped.

For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.

Deep green swept around Allandra, the fitted outer gown opening into long panels over white beneath. Gold traced nearly every edge; curling vines, tiny stars, sunbursts worked so finely into the fabric that they caught the lanternlight whenever she moved.

Serali’s thoughts stopped.

Allandra looked like…

First Sun.

Which was an absurd thing to think about a woman.

Unfortunately, it remained true.

She looked like spring arriving. Like green things pushing through the last snow. Like sunlight finding them.

Serali became aware that she was staring.

Then she realized Allandra was staring too.

That was worse.

Allandra’s gaze moved over her slowly.

The twilight velvet Callene had sewn her into. The white cloak around her shoulders, winter fur framing the darkness beneath it, a rising sun fastening it at her throat.

Night. Winter. And borrowed dawn.

Too much.

Serali had known it was too much.

Callene had insisted otherwise.

Now Allandra was staring.

Serali resisted the sudden urge to pull the cloak closed over the embroidery.

The bond stirred.

Its partitions remained firmly in place.

They had both kept them there all evening.

But emotion did not always require an open door. Something warm pressed gently against the barrier.

Wonder.

Serali’s breath caught.

Allandra seemed to realize at precisely the same moment that she had been staring.

Her expression reorganized itself into something more appropriate for a queen standing beside her captain, several guards, assorted palace staff, and a square rapidly filling with several thousand of her subjects.

It was not particularly convincing.

Serali felt her mouth twitch.

Allandra noticed.

That made it worse.

Daravan looked from Allandra—

to Serali—

then very deliberately turned his attention toward the square.

Mara developed an intense interest in the fall of Serali’s cloak.

Cowards.

Allandra crossed the remaining distance.

Not all of it.

Never all of it when people were watching.

She stopped at the careful, respectable distance they had become very good at maintaining. ”Royal Mage.”

”Your Majesty.”

Allandra’s eyes dropped to the gown again.

Serali raised a brow.

Allandra brought them back to her face.

Mostly.

”Callene finished it.”

”She sewed me into it.”

Allandra blinked.

Then laughed. A real laugh. Brief and warm and startled out of her. ”She what?”

”Apparently closures become optional when one runs out of time.”

”I see.”

”I cannot leave until someone cuts me out of it.”

Allandra’s gaze flicked downward.

The bond gave a sudden, unmistakable pulse of heat.

Serali stared at her. Allandra’s face remained perfectly composed. The bond did not.

Serali lowered her voice. ”Behave.”

”I didn’t say anything.”

”You didn’t have to.”

A faint flush touched Allandra’s cheeks. Victory.

Then Allandra looked at her again. Not at the gown. At her.

The amusement softened. ”You look beautiful.”

The victory vanished.

Serali had prepared for the square. For strangers staring. For nobles examining every detail of her clothes for evidence that she was either too Lyehiran or trying too hard to appear Avalusian.

She had prepared for suspicion.

She had prepared for judgment.

She had not prepared for that.

”So do you,” she managed.

Allandra smiled.

Very slightly. Private despite everything around them.

For one heartbeat, the square receded.

No demonstration. No oath. No Vulmar. No nobles waiting to decide what Serali was.

Just Allandra in green and white and gold, looking at Serali as though Callene had not made a mistake.

Then a roar went up from below.

Serali startled.

Allandra looked toward the square.

Serali followed her gaze.

Stolen novel; please report.

A man on stilts dressed as an enormous golden rooster came fleeing between two festival stalls.

Approximately twenty children pursued him.

One appeared to be armed with a ribbon.

Another had acquired a wooden spoon.

The rooster gave an enormous theatrical squawk.

The children shrieked.

Serali stared.

The moment died instantly.

”...What is that?”

Allandra’s mouth twitched. ”The first cry of dawn.”

”The first cry of dawn is being attacked.”

”It’s traditional.”

”By children.”

”Also traditional.”

The child with the wooden spoon caught up. The rooster fled faster.

Serali watched him disappear into the crowd.

Then slowly looked at Allandra. ”You knew this would happen.”

”I knew several things would happen.”

”You did not warn me.”

”I told you First Sun was lively.”

Serali stared at the square.

Three circles of dancers. Several hundred lanterns. At least six fiddles.

Children with painted cheeks.

Old women already drinking something from copper cups.

The enormous golden rooster remained under pursuit.

”Harvest was lively.”

”Yes.”

”This is a citywide riot with pastries.”

Allandra’s mouth curved.

Only slightly.

Not enough for anyone watching from the square below to accuse the Queen of private amusement with her Royal Mage.

”First Sun is important.”

”It is apparently war.”

”Wait until dawn.”

Serali looked at her. ”That sounded like a threat.”

This time, Allandra smiled.

Serali decided not to ask what happened at dawn.

There were already too many things happening now.

Serali looked back over the square.

Now that the initial assault on her senses had passed, or at least become marginally survivable, she began to notice smaller things.

Little boats made of folded paper floated across the palace fountains, each carrying a flame no larger than a candlewick. Children leaned over the stone rims to launch them while adults caught the backs of coats and belts to keep enthusiasm from becoming drowning.

Strings of tiny bells hung beneath several of the lantern arches.

Someone had woven early spring flowers through the railings.

A woman was painting a golden sun onto an elderly man’s cheek while his wife laughed at him.

There were ribbons.

So many ribbons.

Serali was beginning to suspect Avalusia maintained a strategic reserve.

And everywhere, food.

She had seen the long tables when she came outside. She had assumed they were vendors, like the ones at Harvest.

At Harvest, the streets had been lined with booths selling cider and meat pies and fried cakes. Coins had changed hands constantly. People had haggled.

Here—

Serali watched a palace attendant hand a child an iced cake stamped with a rising sun. The child ran away.

Serali waited.

No one stopped him.

Another attendant filled an old woman’s cup with steaming cider.

No coin.

A laborer took two buns from a basket and continued walking.

Still nothing.

Serali frowned. She watched more carefully.

A servant in palace gold handed out little paper packets to a line of children.

Nothing.

Serali leaned toward Allandra without taking her eyes from the table. ”Are they paying?”

”No.”

”For the cakes?”

”No.”

”The cider?”

”No.”

Serali pointed discreetly. ”The lantern buns?”

”No.”

”Those little things in paper?”

”Candied orange peel.”

”Free?”

”Yes.”

Serali finally looked at her. ”All of it?”

”Yes.”

”Why?”

Allandra blinked. ”Because it is First Sun.”

”That is not an answer.”

”It is the answer.”

”The palace is giving away food.”

”Yes.”

”How much?”

Allandra considered. ”Food?”

”Yes.”

”I don’t know.”

Serali stared at her. ”You don’t know how much food you’re giving away?”

”I approved the festival budget.”

”That is not the same thing.”

”No.”

”How many cakes?”

”I have never personally counted the cakes.”

”How many buns?”

”Serali.”

”There are thousands of people.”

”Yes.”

”And you are feeding them.”

”Yes.”

”For free.”

Allandra’s mouth twitched. ”We have established that.”

Serali had established nothing. She had encountered an economic absurdity and was attempting to understand it.

Then she noticed the next table. ”...What are those?”

”Festival tokens.”

The table held baskets of small carved wooden suns threaded onto ribbons and tiny clay lantern charms glazed gold.

A girl accepted one and immediately hung it around her neck. A man tucked his into his coat. An elderly woman pressed hers briefly to her lips before putting it carefully into her pocket.

Serali stared. ”Those are free too.”

”Yes.”

”Of course they are.”

At least Allandra had the grace to look amused.

Serali watched another family approach the tables.

Five portions.

Five little wooden suns.

No one asked for money.

No one asked whether they were entitled to any of it.

No one even appeared to think this was strange.

That might have been the strangest part.

”In Lyehira,” Serali said, ”they would charge triple and call it devotion.”

Allandra’s amusement disappeared.

Her expression softened.

Too much.

Serali looked away before it could touch her.

And found the crowd looking back.

There she is. The attention had been there since she stepped outside. She had simply managed, briefly, to forget it.

The Night King’s daughter.

The Royal Mage.

Princess.

Hostage.

Spy.

Shadow witch.

Serali kept her hands still at her sides.

Chapter 167: Festive

Beside Allandra, Daravan cleared his throat.

He had spent the entirety of their discussion of free pastries displaying the disciplined inattention of a man who had absolutely no opinion on how many cakes the Crown ought to distribute to its citizens.

Now, apparently, he had decided the conversation had returned to matters within his jurisdiction.

”Your Majesty.”

Allandra turned to him.

”All approaches are secured. Rooftop watch is in position. Plainclothes units are dispersed through the lower square. Harrek has the outer ring.”

Serali followed his gaze.

Harrek stood near the western entrance, speaking to two uniformed Watch officers and a third man who appeared to be an ordinary festivalgoer until Harrek pointed toward one of the rooftops and the man nodded with military precision before disappearing into the crowd.

”How many of these people are secretly yours?” Serali asked.

Daravan glanced at her. ”Enough.”

”That is ominous.”

”It is intended to be.”

”The noble pavilion has separate access,” he continued, turning back to Allandra, ”with officers at both entrances.”

Serali looked toward it.

Verya stood near the front speaking with another noblewoman, posture cool and severe, one gloved hand wrapped around a cup she appeared to have forgotten to drink.

Yvander was several yards away. He appeared to be interrogating a palace servant about bread.

Serali watched him point toward one of the common tables.

The servant answered. Yvander frowned. Pointed again.

The servant nodded and hurried away.

”Is Yvander auditing the festival?”

Allandra followed her gaze. ”Probably.”

”Now?”

”Especially now.”

That was distressingly plausible.

Lord Merrow stood nearby with two older lords and a woman in silver fur, all of them angled just enough to observe Serali without appearing to do so.

Verya did not bother pretending. Her gaze found Serali’s.

She gave the smallest nod. Serali wasn’t certain whether it meant the record holds, you belong here, or do not make me regret any of this.

With Verya, all three were possible.

Serali took it anyway.

Daravan continued. ”Lady Marielle is already at the demonstration markers.”

”Of course she is.”

”She has requested permission to adjust the lantern spacing by two inches.”

”No.”

”I told her no.”

”Good.”

”She requested one.”

”No.”

”I told her no.”

”Excellent.”

”She is now measuring with her eyes.”

Serali looked.

Near the lantern path, Marielle stood beside a line of palace attendants, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak and vibrating with suppressed engineering. She was staring at the lanterns with the fixed intensity of a woman being denied tools.

As if sensing attention, she looked up and waved both hands.

Subtly, in her mind, perhaps.

To everyone else, like a signal fire.

A little farther down the tables, Mara had been absorbed into a cluster of palace staff.

One maid spoke while Mara consulted a folded list. Another arrived carrying a ledger. Mara pointed the first toward the palace, took the ledger from the second, checked something, and immediately beckoned over a third servant.

Serali frowned. ”I thought Mara was supposed to be enjoying the festival.”

”She is,” Allandra said.

Mara opened the ledger.

Serali looked at her.

Allandra reconsidered. ”In her way.”

Mara glanced up.

Their eyes met across the square.

She smiled.

Serali smiled back before she could stop herself.

Near the edge of the square, Lia had established what appeared to be a small military occupation beneath a canvas awning. Two apprentices stood with her.

One was moving a medical chest.

”No,” Lia said.

He stopped.

”If you put it there, someone will put a chair in front of it.”

”No one would put—”

”Someone will.”

The apprentice moved the chest.

”Other side.”

He moved it again.

”There.”

Serali looked at Allandra. ”You have a medical station?”

”We have several.”

”For a religious festival?”

”For thousands of people drinking, dancing, climbing things, playing games and standing near open flames.”

Serali considered the golden rooster. ”...Sensible.”

Lia looked up. Even at this distance, Serali recognized the assessment.

Lia’s gaze swept over her.

Apparently satisfied that Serali had not developed an acute medical emergency in the approximately twenty minutes since Lia had last had access to her, she nodded.

Serali nodded back.

Lia pointed two fingers at her own eyes.

Then at Serali.

Serali sighed. ”She is still monitoring me.”

”Of course she is.”

”I am at a festival.”

”That has never stopped Lia.”

Before Serali could answer— “Serali!”

She knew that voice. Serali turned.

Everly came racing toward the palace steps.

She had apparently been somewhere in the square with Hagen and Lessa. Hagen stood beside one of the festival stalls holding two cups, looking entirely unsurprised by his niece’s sudden departure.

Lessa, on the other hand, was already in pursuit. “Your Highness!”

Everly kept running.

“Your Highness, walking!”

Everly reduced her speed for approximately two steps. Then she saw Serali properly. The walking ended.

Hagen sighed. He handed one of his cups to a startled attendant and followed at a considerably more dignified pace.

Everly arrived in a flutter of white, green, and gold, her cloak bouncing behind her and the little painted suns on her cheeks bright in the lanternlight.

Lessa arrived several moments later.

Considerably less gracefully.

“Your Highness,” she said, slightly breathless, “we discussed running through crowds.”

Everly looked up at her. “I wasn’t running through the crowd.”

Lessa stared at her.

Everly pointed back toward the open stretch of stones she had crossed. “I was running around the crowd.”

Serali considered this. “Technically—”

“Please don’t.”

Serali closed her mouth.

Allandra was smiling.

Lessa noticed. “Your Majesty is also not helping.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Neither did Lady Serali.”

“And yet apparently we’re both culpable.”

“Yes.”

Hagen reached them then, still carrying his cider. “For the record, I told her to walk.”

Lessa looked at him. “You told her, ‘Try not to kill anyone on the way.’”

“Which necessarily implies a degree of caution.”

“It does not imply walking.”

“An oversight.”

Everly, having determined that the adults were distracted, turned back to Serali.

Her entire face brightened. “You came!”

“I was scheduled to.”

Everly ignored this deeply inadequate response. “Look!”

She pointed enthusiastically at her cheeks.

Serali inspected them. “Those appear to be suns.”

Everly frowned. “Do you like them?”

“They are very golden.”

“That isn’t liking.”

Serali considered more carefully.

The tiny suns curled across Everly’s cheeks in delicate gold paint, slightly smudged at one edge from what had presumably already been several hours of vigorous celebration.

“They suit you.”

Everly beamed. “Uncle Hagen said they make me look very official.”

“I said festive.” Hagen corrected.

“Same thing!”

“It absolutely is not.”

Everly had already stopped listening.

Her gaze traveled over Serali.

She went still. “Oh.”

Serali became suspicious.

A smile began.

“No.”

Everly blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to say you’re pretty.”

Serali paused. “…Oh.”

Everly looked pleased with herself. “Mama is pretty too.”

“I am aware.”

Silence. Serali realized what she had said.

Hagen made a choking sound into his cider. Allandra’s face became extremely interested in the square. Daravan looked as though he regretted having ears.

Serali narrowed her eyes. “Not one word.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hagen said.

“You made a sound.”

“Am I prohibited from breathing now?”

“Potentially.”

Everly, mercifully uninterested in whatever had just happened, held out her arms. “May I hug you?”

Serali looked down at her. Then at the square. Too many eyes.

Everly noticed the hesitation. Her arms lowered a little.

Serali hated that. Not Everly. The hesitation.

The world that made a child’s hug into calculation.

She crouched enough to meet Everly’s eyes. “Yes. Briefly.”

Everly hugged her. It was not brief.

Then immediately took Serali’s hand. ”I had two desserts already.”

Allandra looked down at her. ”You did?”

Everly nodded happily.

Allandra’s gaze moved to Lessa.

Lessa straightened. ”They were very small.”

Hagen took a measured sip of cider.

Allandra looked at him.

”I fail to see why Lessa is being interrogated when I was the responsible adult present.”

Lessa turned to him. ”You gave her the second one.”

”Yes. Hence my confession.”

”After I said one was enough.”

”You said one was probably enough.”

”That was not permission.”

”It lacked the necessary specificity.”

Everly nodded gravely. ”Tiny desserts count differently.”

Serali looked at Hagen. ”Legal precedent.”

”Exactly.”

Daravan looked pained. ”Please do not encourage her.”

”Which one?” Allandra asked.

Daravan considered Everly. Then Hagen. Then Serali. ”Any of them.”

Lessa sighed. ”For the record, Your Majesty, she has also had actual food.”

”I had a bun.”

”Half a bun.”

”It was a big bun.”

Hagen nodded. ”Enormous.”

Lessa looked at him. ”You ate the other half.”

”Waste is a serious moral failing.”

Allandra closed her eyes. Serali felt considerably better about her own performance at First Sun. Apparently the Queen had problems too.

Everly tugged Serali’s hand. ”Come on.”

Serali looked down at her. ”Where?”

”I have to introduce you.”

Serali froze. ”What?”

”I have to introduce you.”

”No.”

Everly looked immediately to Allandra. ”Mama, tell her.”

Allandra’s gaze flicked to Serali.

Serali knew what she saw. The square was already too much. Too many people. Too many eyes. Too many strangers who knew exactly who Serali was before Serali knew anything about them.

An introduction meant another name to remember. Another face. Another person deciding whether she was frightening or fascinating or dangerous or pitiable.

”Everly,” Allandra said carefully, ”Serali is here in an official capacity tonight. She doesn’t need to be introduced to everyone.”

Everly frowned. ”Not everyone.” A pause. ”Important people.”

Somehow that was worse.

Hagen’s eyes flicked toward Serali. The humor in them changed. Only slightly.

But Serali saw him understand.

Hagen crouched beside Everly. ”A princess must pace diplomacy.”

Everly frowned. ”Why?”

”Because if Serali meets everyone tonight, there will be no one left for later.”

Everly considered this. ”But she has to meet Mistress Tarl.”

”Who is Mistress Tarl?” Serali asked.

”She makes honey spirals.”

Hagen considered. ”Essential diplomacy.”

”And Old Perren.”

”The bells?”

Everly nodded.

”Also essential.”

”And the lantern girls because they asked if Serali was scary and I said no.”

Serali’s breath caught. Allandra went very still. Hagen’s expression softened by a fraction.

Everly looked up at Serali. ”I told them you’re nice.”

Hagen glanced at Serali.

Not pushing. Three.

Serali could manage three.

She nodded once. ”Those introductions.”

Everly brightened. ”And then games.”

Serali’s relief vanished. ”What?”

”Games.”

”That was not part of the negotiation.”

”It is now.”

”No.”

”You haven’t even seen them.”

”That is not necessary.”

Everly looked to Hagen again.

Serali pointed at him. ”Do not help her.”

Hagen straightened. ”I have already exhausted my diplomatic authority.”

”Good.”

”But in an entirely private capacity, I should mention that the ring toss is very competitive.”

Serali narrowed her eyes. ”Why would that interest me?”

”No reason.”

”You think I would be bad at it.”

”I said nothing of the kind.”

”You thought it.”

Hagen took a leisurely drink of cider. ”You seem unusually concerned with things people haven’t said tonight.”

”Three introductions,” Allandra said. ”Then perhaps one game.”

”Three games,” Everly countered.

”One.”

”Two.”

Allandra looked at Serali.

Serali looked toward the square. Three introductions. Two games.

Defined things. Things with beginnings and endings.

And almost three hours remained before she had to stand beneath thousands of eyes and prove that her magic deserved to exist among them.

Perhaps throwing objects at painted targets was not the worst possible use of that time.

”...Two.”

Everly gasped in triumph. ”Two!”

She immediately began pulling Serali toward the steps.

Lessa followed.

Hagen fell into step on Serali’s other side.

Pell and Orran, assigned to stay within ten paces of her for the entire night, fell in step with Everly and Hagen’s own security escorts.

Serali glanced back once.

Allandra remained at the top of the steps with Daravan, already being approached by another palace official.

Their eyes met.

All right?

Serali wasn’t certain whether the question came through the bond or merely Allandra’s face.

She gave the smallest nod.

Allandra answered it.

Then Everly tugged. ”Mistress Tarl first.”

Serali turned back toward the square. ”Yes, Director.”

Everly gasped. ”I’m Director tonight too?”

Serali immediately realized her mistake.

Hagen laughed.

”No.”

”You said—”

”Demonstration Director. Your authority does not extend to festivals.”

”It should.”

”Gods preserve us.”