“Mother?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Have there ever been female talents?”
“Not that one, Tri, the other one?” She waved away the silver binding and pointed to the gold. “That will suit her coloring best.” Tri brought the gold and proceeded to bind the waist of my gown. “Yes, Zez, there have been female talents, weak ones. They are nothing that you should concern yourself with.”
The hair dresser began weaving the gold through my hair. This morning I had been nervous about my presentation, but now my thoughts were full of Master Silas and his strange claims.
Mother waved her hand at the cobbler and then turned to lecture me. “Now when we arrive at the palace, socialize only with the sons of royal houses or talents, child. You do understand that our family’s honor depends on your behavior today, right?”
“Yes. I understand.” Every child of a Royal house is presented to the High King and his Queen on the first day of the Caelestis Novem after their fifteenth annum. I was the last of the family to be presented. I suppose I should be thankful that I wasn’t talented like my brothers. A talented male’s presentation meant a testing of his skills in determining whether or not he would be continuing training. All six of my older brothers tested well and continued their training under the Sept Son.
My presentation, being an untalented female, was going to be more of a formal entrance into society than anything else. I would be presented first to the High Queen and then the Lower Queens, Mother being one of them, and then to the High King and the court at the grand assembly. The following feast and dancing was in celebration of the beginning of the Caelestis Novem, but many young women were chosen by interested suitors to be wooed throughout the High Week and beyond. That was how Janus, my oldest brother met and wooed his wife.
That was my duty. As an untalented female, I was to make a good marriage and hopefully have seven sons.
“Mother?”
“Hmmm?” Mother crossed to her mirror and glanced at her image, dark eyes, a luxuriously thick brown mane of hair, and a trim figure. She looked half her age. Father constantly said that she didn’t look like she had borne him seven children.
“If I was a talented female, would I still have to go through with all this?”
Mother froze and then turned to me, her brown eyes suddenly stern and searching. “Where did that notion come from, Zez?”
I dropped my gaze and took a sudden interest in the fall of my skirt. Mother had the uncanny ability to appear to read thoughts, though when I considered the discovery in the garden, I began to wonder if my supposed ability was more than just an illusion
“I was just wondering, Momma.”
“Zez, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Momma as though you were still a child? You are fifteen. It is time you set aside your childish habits.”
I muttered an assent just as a light tap on the outer doors announced the summons. “His Majesty the King requests your presence, my queen. He is ready to depart.”
“Fetch our wraps,” Mother ordered. She checked her already perfect hair and then turned to me. Fussing for a moment to make sure I was presentable, she accepted the wrap and led the way down the women’s stairs to the front hall.
WE RODE TO THE HIGH King’s palazzo in covered boxes, called roans, carried by four men. Being one of the royal families with residences in the holy city had advantages. We could arrive early and settle into our royal chambers well before our presence was required at the High Court in the High King’s palazzo.
I tried to secure a place with Renato so that I could find out what happened when the strange Master Silas met with father, but Vander beat me to it. Mother and Father always rode together. I found myself sharing a roan with Manvel, my fourth born brother.
The High King’s palazzo turned out to be grander than I imagined. Tall, white columns guarded the entrance, which was six doors wide. I asked Manvel how the wall stayed up without any visible support. He usually lectured endlessly about anything to do with building things. I got a detailed lesson on columns, braces, and hidden methods of support. Of all my brothers, he was the most consistently kind, but he did carry on at times.
The grand entrance opened into an even grander gallery. Three elaborate candelabras hung over us from incredibly high ceilings. I tried to see as much as I could with only a glance.
The men milling around the gallery were just as fascinating as the architecture. A few I recognized. Three of the five other lower kings and their sons were already there. King Marcellus and King Euginius were to arrive tomorrow. Because of the distance of their lands, the Mesitas, the goddess’ high priest, gave special provision for them to travel on the first day of the High Week. High King Honorus wasn’t there, but his son, Cephas came forward to greet father.
“My dear Ostin.” He enfolded father in a hug. “Finally you have come. Father will be so glad to see you.”
“Where is he?” Father asked.
Stepping back, Cephas frowned. “He isn’t feeling up to the greetings, poor man. His old wounds act up when a rain is coming.”
Father nodded and asked about the other kings. My brothers promptly melted into the crowd. I followed in Mother’s wake as she navigated the elaborate greetings.
I spoke only when spoken to, which was a whole of three times. Finally, Mother climbed the right staircase to the women’s quarters.
“Now remember your manners,” she admonished as the servants opened the doors and Mother sashayed into the High Queen’s sitting room. Empty, except for a few straggling nobodies, the rooms echoed despite the carpeted floors. The High Queen's
