The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 3 - Southern Beauty and Northern Strength

Kyn Inteza dug her fingers into her daughter's shoulders and glared hypnotically into her eyes.

"Sit straight, modulate your voice, and remember to smile. The future of Akynadar hangs on this night. Disgrace me, and I will personally flog you 'til the blood flows, and toss you to the meanest churl in the keep for a drudge and plaything. Do you understand me?"

Rhoz bowed her head. "Yes, mother." She was accustomed to threats, but this one was more bloodcurdling than usual. For the moment, being carried off to the Northlands seemed preferable to facing her mother's wrath.

She had barely slept. She had waited long past moonrise to question Violet when she returned from the frenzied preparations for the banquet. Violet had crawled into bed with hardly a word, and all Rhoz's tossing and turning had failed to rouse her from her exhausted sleep.

The task of making Rhoz presentable had taken up the entire day. Immediately after breakfast, the Kyn Inteza had sent her two most experienced tiring ladies to her daughter's chamber. After Rhoz had been bathed and anointed with perfumed oils, her silky hair was dampened and wound with strips of cloth to create curls in the manner preferred by the Northlanders. She was allowed a scant half hour at noontide to eat and rest before the frenzy began in earnest. She was laced and powdered and combed, inspected by her mother, undone and re-laced and powdered and combed again. Tempers shortened as evening drew near.

"Do not forget," Kyn Inteza repeated before she swept out of the room to finish her own preparations, "everything depends on you."

A courtier accompanied by a squad of palace guards arrived from the family vault with an enormous jewelled tiara with matching necklace, earrings and three bracelets. Rhoz felt like an overburdened donkey when she was finally allowed to inspect her image in the mirror.

"Your Kynship, you truly look the part of a daughter of the Celestial Light!" the tiring lady gushed.

"More like a troll," Rhoz grimaced. Despite the tight lacing, the ornate cut-velvet gown and oversized jewels made her figure look squatter than usual. "But it may be for the best. If I am ugly enough, Halgrim will refuse to have me."

Violet's eyes were large with emotion. "You carry the royal blood of this land," she murmured while she made a final superfluous adjustment to Rhoz' curls. "You belong to your people, and their welfare is your highest purpose. You must forget yourself, and do your duty."

Rhoz straightened her shoulders and drew herself up as proudly as she could, biting back the tears. "Royal blood exacts royal sacrifice," she muttered, echoing Governess Aster's favourite maxim. In the nursery, she had dreamed of glittering at a royal banquet. Now that the moment had come, her dearest wish was to run away and disappear forever.

As she entered the palace anteroom, her resolve faltered at the sight of Muktar's new allies. The Northlanders were shaggy as mountain ponies, their weathered faces half-hidden under their beards. The cloud of perfume enveloping Rhoz failed to disguise the smell of fires and horse sweat they brought from the camp they had pitched beyond the outer gates, spurning the refined hospitality of the castle. The women wore the same leather leggings as the men, and laughed as coarsely.

Rhoz followed her parents into the banquet hall on the arm of her oldest brother Iryk, with Akkyn's Anthem blaring deafeningly in her ears. Iryk took his place at the head table beside his father, while Rhoz was seated at the women's table between her mother and an unkempt woman dressed in a wolf skin complete with ears and teeth.

If only Violet could be near, or Grandmother! But Arabelle was seated on the other side of the Kyn Inteza, and Violet was busy circulating with pitchers of wine.