Melly laughs. “True enough.”
Chapter
9
“Don’t forget to address the prince as ‘zayyid.’”
I shoot Filadon a glare. “I do know some things, even if I am from the country.”
He just gives a little hmm. I wipe my hands nervously on my skirt as we wait for Kestrin to join us. Of course I’m to call him “zayyid,” but then what? Curtsy and . . . say what? I bite my lip. Perhaps I shouldn’t have cut off Filadon quite so harshly. “Anything else?”
“Be yourself.”
“I thought that was the last thing you’re supposed to do at court.”
“True,” Filadon says. “I suppose you could try being Melly.”
I thump his arm. “You’re useless. How does the prince put up with you?”
He grins, glancing away. We sit together in a small salon of sorts, low-backed sofas running along the wall, a few small hexagonal tables bearing silver trays set here and there, ready to hold drinks or food as the need may arise. I clear my throat, look around again at the understated wealth of what appears to be a rarely used room. Chatting about being an attendant over breakfast and waiting in a well-appointed room to meet a prince are two very different things, it turns out. “I’m not so sure about this, Filadon,” I say unhappily.
“I didn’t think you’d have second thoughts so soon,” he says, frowning.
I haven’t had time to have first thoughts. “I don’t really know anything about the princess,” I say, which is neither here nor there.
“You’ll meet her soon, if all goes well. She’s a bit more like you than she is like me, which is why she needs an attendant she can trust.”
She certainly does after her last companion betrayed her so thoroughly, though what Filadon means by comparing me to himself, I’m not sure. “Why would she trust me?”
More than that, why would she trust a relative of Filadon’s if she’s looking for someone without prior political allegiances? Unless, I suppose, it’s essentially impossible to find someone without any allegiances at all, and this is one that she doesn’t distrust.
“You’ll have to earn her trust,” Filadon allows. “But you’ll still be a sight better than her other attendants.”
“What do you mean?”
Filadon sighs. “Mina isn’t too bad, but the other two—Jasmine and Zaria—have not quite realized they should respect her.”
“She’s a princess. Why would anyone think it acceptable to insult her?”
“They see a girl who was tricked out of her rank and title, which they blame on her perceived foolishness, rather than the impostor’s treachery.”
“Tricked?” I echo in disbelief.
He turns a level gaze on me. “Trickery is just another word for betrayal.”
It’s a truth I’ve known half my life, the little tricks played on me by the town children because I could not keep up with them—because I was clumsy and slow and different—tasting of betrayal. Still, calling what was done to the princess nothing more than trickery seems a bit much.
“You must consider that the princess spent the whole of the winter happily working as a goose girl,” Filadon goes on. “There is no one here, except perhaps you and Melly, who can understand that. As far as her attendants and half the court are concerned, that stands witness to her stupidity.”
“I think I’d go back to the geese if I were her,” I say with some asperity.
“Which is why you would make her an excellent attendant,” Filadon says.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like she’s had much power or choice in all the things that have been done to her. Sure, I can understand her preferring hard work to court politics—at least on the surface. But . . .” I shake my head. “I don’t think I want to get involved in power at that level. I don’t understand it, and I won’t be able to help her.”
Filadon leans back, watching me. “Let me tell you a little story,” he says quietly. “One that stays between us. Once upon a time, a prince learned that his betrothed had been betrayed and replaced. So he went to the true princess and offered her a chance to return. She refused.”
I stare.
“She is only here because, in the end, she chose to return in order to serve our people better and stand by Kestrin when he most needed it. Do not be confused by what else you might hear.”
“You’re saying she has more power than the stories grant her.”
“A great deal more,” Filadon says. “The court will come to see that eventually, and she can manage the politics. In the meantime, she needs someone she can lean on without having to wonder if she can trust them to be there.”
“I see.” It’s got to be hard to have gone through what she did, and end up someplace where everything is political and her attendants . . . aren’t what she needs. I suppose I could stand in for her for a little while, if she wants me, as unlikely as that seems.
“So now that you understand the princess,” Filadon says, “tell me what you hope to gain from being an attendant.”
“Gain?” I echo. It’s true I want to speak to the princess about the snatchers, but I’m not aiming to be her attendant in order to use her, at least no more than she intends to use me.
“Why else would you agree?”
“Because you bullied me into it?”
He smirks. “Hardly. You would have said no if you didn’t want to be here.”
“Told you already, Bean would have my head if I passed up a chance to meet the prince. I’m just keeping myself safe from future sisterly assault.”
“Could be. Could be you think it will take you up in the world.”
I stare at him. “Up? The farthest up I want to get is riding my horse. And maybe having a good view of the wedding.”
Filadon’s eyes flicker with amusement, but his expression remains serious. “Some attendants are made rich through the rewards they’re given for pleasing the royal family.”
“And some country girls are perfectly happy with their horses and goats as is. I’m not interested in,
