Heir to Yhsan — Sneak Preview #1
“Yicky yicky Yhsan! Yicky yicky Yhsan!”
Claire grimaced as the sound of Gimlet’s chanting grew nearer. Trust that brat to come around with his nonsense while I’m sitting here peacefully. Claire stood up from the garden bench, gathered up her painting supplies into a bundle, and handed them to the servant standing ready nearby. “Take these to my room.”
“Yes, my lady.” He carefully picked up the easel with her still-wet canvas and disappeared behind the shrubbery. Claire walked away from the sound of the crown prince’s voice, threading her way through the maze with memorized directness until she reached a fountain which had several colorful fish swimming about. The chant grew quiet, and she had just decided she was safe enough to head back to the house, when Gimlet burst out of the bushes to her left.
“Ha! Sneaking around in the garden again, yicky girl?”
“Go away, Gimlet.” Claire glowered at him.
Gimlet approached closer, his dark blue cap and military tunic glistening with the trainee medals from his fighting classes. “Now, now, is that any way to speak to your future king? I could have you executed!” His congenial smile didn’t fool Claire.
“Oh, really,” Claire sniffed. “I’m so afraid!” She dramatically clutched her hands together at her chest, moving around the fountain to keep it between them.
“Or, if I were feeling particularly kind, perhaps I’d charge your father a higher ransom if he wanted you to keep your tongue.” He followed her through the gravel, black boots crunching with each step.
“Such threats from the son of a highwayman,” Claire retorted, her slippered feet moving quickly.
“When we’re married, I’ll have to teach you to respect my father,” Gimlet said, trotting to keep up. Gimlet was short for his sixteen years, and Claire was a tall girl.
She paused, letting him get closer, and studied him. “What do you mean, married?” She was nearly twenty-one, but that wouldn’t keep her safe if his father really wanted the match.
“My father told me that when I get my commission at eighteen, he will announce our engagement. Then, we’ll have complete control over the Yhsian pass!” He stood with his hands on his hips, squarely in front of her, smirking.
He thinks he can control me, Claire reflected. And while she knew that King Robard had complete control of her future at the moment, the same was definitely not true of Gimlet, and never would be if she had any other options.
“Hmm,” Claire said, looking him critically up and down. “No, I don’t believe it! King Robard wouldn’t take the risk.”
Gimlet puffed out his chest. “What do you mean?”
Claire sighed. “Your father wouldn’t marry me to a pimpled little shrimp.” She circled around behind him, and he turned to face her, angrily. “A shrimp is too easy to manipulate.”
“I’m not a shrimp! Stop calling me a shrimp!” he flung back at her, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Make me!” She lunged forward and gave him a firm shove. Caught by surprise, his lighter weight fell backwards into the fish pond with a splash, the gold and blue fish scattering. Claire took off running back through the hedge maze, leaving his cries of anger and pain behind. Brat. He had really caught her off guard with that marriage jab.
Of course King Robard will marry me off sometime, but really, the sixteen-year-old? I’m nearly six years older than the whining little monster. There had been rumors before, while her mother was sick, about a merchant from Tant. What happened to the pudgy sycophant? Even he would be preferable!
Slowing down to let her breath settle and tuck her hair back into control, Claire walked back to the door of the Keep.
Princess Dahla of Rylan and their language teacher were waiting for her when she entered the schoolroom. Only a year younger than Claire, Dahla had been attached to her since Claire’s arrival as a hostage at the Rylan court. Dahla’s slight, fragile figure paired with her blue eyes and blonde hair were a counterpoint to Claire’s darker coloring, height, and athleticism. They got along well, though, and Dahla welcomed her with a smile as she took her place and the tutor began.
As they concentrated on declensions, Claire found it harder than usual to dismiss Gimlet’s taunts. She told herself firmly to put it behind her. Then something struck her. Why would Robard want to bring me into his own family? If Yhsan is really as completely subservient as he says, it wouldn’t be advantageous for him to tie his family that closely to us. Unless Gimlet asked … She shuddered and shook the thought away.
After the lesson, Claire asked Dahla if she knew what Gimlet was talking about.
“Oh, Claire! I would so love to have you as a sister!” Then her face fell. “Except when I marry, I will have to leave. I wish you could come with me, instead!”
“So do I,” Claire assured her. She shuddered. “Anything would be better than marrying Gimlet, though. I might even elope with one of the guards!”
Dahla giggled at the prospect. “A guard! The very thought. Oh, Claire, speaking of guards! I found something for you when I was out in the market yesterday. Come and see!”
Used to Dahla’s abrupt subject changes by now, Claire followed her down the stairs to Dahla’s room, which was one of the largest bedrooms in the Keep. There was a balcony overlooking the garden and the fish pond. Claire smiled at the thought, recalling Gimlet’s expression. A large bedstead stood in the center of the room, with expensive furniture and toys stacked around the walls.
“Here it is!” Dahla opened a chest sitting at the foot of the bed, and drew out a heavy length of silk. It was fiery orange, and shimmered with yellow and red tones as the light passed over it.
Claire gasped. “Wherever did you find this?”
“It was brought in from overseas, they had a lot of different colors but I thought you might like this one best.” Dahla draped it over Claire’s shoulder, then stood back and examined her critically. “Yes, that looks very nice. We shall have it made up into a new dress, and you can wear it for my birthday party!”
“But what is it made of?” Claire asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Dahla waved her hand. “The merchant kept going on about how far it had come, and he charged a ridiculous price for it, but I just liked the color for you. It looks like a Kunnarian dragon skin, doesn’t it? I heard there was a dragon near Almar’s Pass last summer, wouldn’t it be grand to see if the color actually matches?”
“I don’t know about dragons in Yhsan, but I hope you don’t get in trouble with your father,” Claire said. “Remember he chided you for giving me that globe last month!”
“I can handle Daddy,” Dahla said confidently.
That was probably true in this case, Claire reflected. For as harsh and unbending a ruler as Robard could be, he valued his family, particularly his children. The contrast was very clear to Claire, in her position as an outsider who was still included in everything as Dahla’s companion and Robard’s hostage. Someday, though, Claire thought, Dahla will run up against the steel of her father’s goals — perhaps when he decides on her marriage, perhaps sooner if she doesn’t curb her habit of giving expensive gifts to subordinates.
“I have to change for tea now, mother is having the Duchess of Tant over and wants me to come meet her,” Dahla said, pulling the tassel for her maid. “She told me she doesn’t need you, though.”
“All right. I’m going to go riding, then.” Claire declared. “I need some fresh air.”
Claire took the gorgeous length of fabric and went up the stairs to her bedroom, which was another flight above the schoolroom. The small window let in enough light to dress by, but the room was a closet compared to the extravagance of Dahla’s suite. Claire’s comfort was unimportant to Robard except as it related to how she appeared in his court. Her clothing was fashionable and plentiful, and her maid was competent in hairdressing, but Claire’s personal possessions were limited to the sparkling gifts Dahla couldn’t resist giving her, and a small dancing bear figurine. Claire’s mother, Queen Rinn, had given the trinket to Claire on her thirteenth birthday. Claire kept it on a table by her bed, separated from the rest of her knick-knacks, to remember her lost family. Queen Rinn, King Theis, little sister Vera. The bear was made of green glass, and had a fancy stiff paper collar around his neck and a knowing expression. “Here we are again, Foo Foo,” she said to him. “We’re all dressed up for our performances.”
Claire’s maid, Ella, dressed her in riding clothes and fastened her hair up under a cap, then Claire made her way down to the stables. Her favorite horse was there, so she had him saddled and rode out to the training fields with a stable-boy on a pony behind her. He would spy on her, of course — all the servants knew they could get bonuses from King Robard for reporting any suspicious actions Claire took. Most of the soldiers and guards knew her by name, but she had no friends besides Dahla, and maybe Ella. She couldn’t blame them for wanting to avoid any shadow of suspicion.
When they were fourteen, at Claire’s prompting, Dahla had convinced her father that she needed a military tutor to teach her the basics of fighting and strategy. Claire had lapped those lessons up with enthusiasm. The tutor, an older disabled soldier who had never fought anywhere near Yhsan, was so pleased to have an eager student that he taught her everything she would absorb. He had died a few winters ago, but Claire continued to read and practice on her own and in games with Gimlet and Dahla as much as she could. She wasn’t sure whether Robard approved of her pursuits or not, so she tried to be discreet. She would pick targets around the edge of the archery range’s dummies, hitting them in arms and legs or just missing them, disguising her skill. It might or might not be working, there was no way to know. She acted fluttery and girlish at court dinners, copying Dahla’s attitudes.
The permanent military camp was immediately behind the Keep, which dismayed Dahla’s mother during the summer. Although an avid military lover like the rest of the nobility, Queen Alin wasn’t as appreciative of the constant dust and noise creeping over the wall to her gardens. Army-themed party or no, her guests couldn’t enjoy ices that had grit in them, or concertos riddled with dissonant yells and fife twitters. The archery range was one of the farther sections, past the cavalry paddocks. When she arrived, Claire joined with the squad training there. She selected a medium-sized longbow from the weapons master, and accepted some blunt-tipped practice arrows. Perhaps she would pretend Gimlet’s dark cap topped the distant targets, and shoot it off his head. Or perhaps she would aim a little lower.
