Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 If Lord Aubrey Ainsley had known when he tied his cravat that the evening he was dressing for was going to change the course of his life, he probably would have picked a more complicated knot. This is not to say that his cravat looked sloppy. His cravat had never looked sloppy in his life, and he had been even more careful than usual about his appearance tonight, since he was about to visit Talstam Palace for the first time and was just about bursting over it. But being only sixteen and the fourth son of a mere country baronet with a courtesy title, it hadn't occurred to him that his actions might affect his country's future. "It'll be the prince's turn next, I daresay," he heard his aunt saying from the landing. They were staying in her town house for the visit. Like almost everyone in the Sabresian capital, she adored gossiping about high society. Aubrey had cracked the door of his bedchamber open in the hopes of hearing something worth listening to. "He's the oldest unmarried royal, now that his cousin Charlotte is spoken for. I still can't believe the king managed to persuade you to come to Elmiddan for this ball he's hosting for the engagement, though, John. We all know how little love you have for visiting the capital. Or anywhere." "Yes, well." Aubrey's father, Lord John Ainsley, pitched his voice sardonically light as usual. "His letter was too pathetic. Boo-hoo, it's going to be so boring; everybody is going to have to be on their best behavior so as not to offend those snooty Hasprennans. I told him to just get drunk, but he said he can't because he's the king , and so all his friends had to come and save him." His father was leaving out the best part, as far as Aubrey was concerned, because the king had asked after him especially. Aubrey had memorized that bit of the letter. Surely your youngest is ready to be out in society? He and Edmund should finally meet. Do make sure to bring him, old bean. The poor lad must be sick of the countryside by now. The idea that the king wanted him to meet his son and had somehow known that yes, Aubrey was indeed desperate to be out in society, was very gratifying, even if Aubrey wasn't actually that fussed about meeting Prince Edmund. His brothers had all met him and reported that he barely had a word to say for himself and tended to spend half his time at events listening to the wind or wandering around touching plants. Aubrey didn't object to him touching plants--the young man was a Prince of Fortune, after all, and so that was to be expected--but Aubrey wasn't terribly interested in people who had no conversation. Princess Alicia, his sister, was supposed to be lively, but at fourteen, she was too young to be "out" and so wouldn't be at the ball. Still, Aubrey would get to visit the palace and meet people, and the royals who were there would be performing their magic, which he was looking forward to most of all. He reached for the pomade--he thought the citrus one would be best for tonight--while Aunt Dorothea continued her chatter. "Well, now that Charlotte is strengthening ties with Hasprenna, it will be interesting to see who the parliament pushes Prince Edmund toward. Folbrage might complain if it's another Hasprennan." "Yes, one of the papers ran a piece on that a few days ago," his mother replied, "listing possible marriage candidates from various countries, and which of them were coming. Seems a lot of pressure for the boy." Aubrey inspected himself one last time in the looking glass. He had woken up with dark circles under his eyes because he'd had a vision-dream in the night--nothing specifically useful, just the same half-seen imagery of horses and soldiers and gunfire he often Saw: the coming war that so many Seers kept Seeing, but nobody really knew anything about yet. Aubrey's reflection reassured him that he now looked perfectly well, however, so he went out to join the adults. "I'm ready!" he announced, and everyone smiled at him. The room was elegant and modern, like the rest of the house. His parents were perched carefully on the edge of a silk sofa so as not to crease their finery before the night had even begun. Aunt Dorothea had not needed to worry about that, since she would not be joining them--the event was too exclusive--and so she was sprawled on a chaise longue in a dressing robe and slippers, all set for a night in. "The prince is supposed to be very responsible," she went on. "He certainly appears very sober and serious whenever I've seen glimpses of him. You know the family best, John. What do you think?" "Prince Edmund is not yet seventeen years old, the same as Aubrey," his father said, waving his hand at him. "Can you guess how Aubrey's life will turn out? I cannot." "Of course I can," Aunt Dorothea said. "Aubrey will run off with a poet, and they will collaborate together in a charming old cottage in the woods with a falling-down roof, surrounded by birds and wildflowers, and pay every bill late, but nobody will even care, because they will all love him." She winked at him. "That seems... specific," Aubrey said. "But thank you, that sounds very promising." "Yes," his brother Wilson said, coming out of the guest room he was using. "Being romantic and disreputable would sound promising to you. Try to behave yourself tonight, won't you?" He had said "romantic" as though it were a bad thing. Aubrey looked at his brother and frowned. "Did you mean to tie your cravat like that?" he asked. "Do fix that for him, dearest," their mother said. Wilson huffed but submitted to Aubrey's ministrations; a mere few tweaks and tugs, but the result was still more pleasing than Wilson, despite being two years older, had managed on his own. Aubrey attempted to also fix his hair but was pushed away. Their two eldest brothers, John and Cedric, came out just in time to see it. "How's mine?" John asked, turning his head this way and that ostentatiously in front of Cedric. "Better than Wilson's," Cedric said. "But that is not much of a standard, I suppose." Wilson let out an annoyed grunt and headed down the stairs. Cedric smirked with all the confidence of someone who would not be riding in the same carriage as him and followed. Aubrey did have to ride with Wilson. Being younger, the two of them went in the black family carriage with their parents, while John and Cedric got to borrow their aunt's smaller coach, which was very dashing in white and yellow and seated only two. It was a fine autumn evening, so everyone on the roads had their carriage hoods down. That suited Aubrey. He wanted to see everything the capital had to show him: the street vendors, the widely paved footpaths, the floral window boxes some of the smart new town houses sported. And the clothes . Feathers seemed to have come into fashion for women's hats, and meanwhile nearly all the younger men walking the streets were wearing their pants so tight, Aubrey hardly knew where to look. And then, finally--Talstam Palace. He had only seen it at a distance before on the handful of occasions he had been brought to Elmiddan. Stately and elegant, the residence had been updated by King Theodore's father and was therefore a reasonably modern building of three stories in pale stone, plus attics under a shapely gray roof, with lower wings off to each side in a pleasing symmetry. A large, tiered fountain in an older style still stood at the front, giving a feeling of history. As they got closer, however, Aubrey started thinking of beehives, since the entrance was crawling with guards and grooms and guests. The family joined the queue of carriages going up the drive and waited. And waited some more. Eventually, Aubrey slumped in his seat, thunking the back of his head against the wooden top for good measure. "I'm going to die ," he declared. "I've waited my whole life to be out in proper society, and now the palace is right there , and I'm going to be a hundred years old before we get inside. Can we not get out and walk?" "Walking is something people do in the countryside," his father said. "Along with talking to people rather than about them, and caring for their neighbors rather than just about what they're wearing. The amount of silk and jewels I can see from here--the woman in that carriage is wearing enough to pay to set up at least two new schools, and teachers besides." "Lean over and tell her so, Father," Aubrey said. "I'm sure she'll whip it all off and hand everything over for the cause." "She could hear you ," Wilson hissed at this point, a little frantic. "Father, please ." Lord Ainsley went to say something else, but Lady Ainsley patted the back of his hand in a suppressive manner, and he subsided. Aubrey did the same to Wilson and found himself once again pushed away. He wished Cedric or John had come in this carriage. Waiting with them would have been much more fun. He looked out to the other side instead, since something seemed to be happening there. A crowd had gathered a block or two in the distance, and soldiers from the city guard were moving toward it. He heard shouting starting up from that direction. "I wonder what that is?" he asked, pointing. His father glanced over. "Protestors. They often target royal events, since members of the press will be around." "What are they protesting?" Wilson asked. He sounded outraged. Their father gave him a look. "I can think of four recent government policies worth shouting in the streets over, just off the top of my head. We should go and join them." "Or," his wife put in, "you could speak directly to all the relevant MPs at the ball, where you've been given privileged access to them. There are a few things I plan to bring up myself if I get the chance." Her husband huffed, but Aubrey caught him smiling as he turned his face away. When they finally got into the palace, the family could barely see where they were going for the people, each one as splendidly dressed as his father had lamented. It was all Aubrey could do not to bounce on his toes. They were announced, and then Aubrey was following his parents into the ballroom proper, which was the largest room he had ever seen. It was, in fact, so large that Aubrey found himself wondering if his family's entire house would fit inside. He ended up deciding that yes, it would; and probably Aunt Dorothea's town house besides. He caught sight of at least half a dozen fireplaces, all carved elaborately in a different color of stone. He made a mental note to visit the ones farthest away from him, which looked large enough to walk around in and which he suspected were from an older version of the room, left over from a time in which great wild boars or sides of game would have been roasted in them whole. The wall closest to them was dotted with paintings in scrolled frames. Aubrey recognized some of them from books or prints in his father's library. He had had no idea that the original artworks would be here--it felt a little bit like bumping into an old friend. One showed his ancestor Queen Helen in a floor-length royal blue robe and matching headdress, a sword sheathed at her hip and a feathery quill in her hand: symbology referring to her famous treaty. Farther down was a battle scene in lush oils: the final clash of the last war that Saben had fought with Honal, almost a hundred years ago. He turned to point out the paintings to his older brothers--they would be more interested in them than Wilson--but Cedric had meandered away with a pair of well-dressed young men he must have known from university; and meanwhile John was already halfway across the room with their father. Aubrey spent a second wondering what he would do if Wilson and his mother also walked off and left him, when they were spotted by a friend of Lady Ainsley's, a Mrs. Follett, who swept the three of them into the group she was with. Aubrey bowed and nodded politely, but before he had much more than an impression of satin and sapphires, a herald-type person announced that the king and his family were very glad to welcome everyone to the ball with a display of their magical skill. Aubrey's delight must have shown, because Mrs. Follett gave him a wry look through her lorgnette. "This is your first time, isn't it, my young lord," she said to him, and started waving the spectacles around for emphasis, "so you don't know how oddly these performances always go. The king and queen traditionally do theirs first because of precedence, but I do wonder why they don't insist on going last so the others aren't embarrassed." Aubrey didn't really know what the woman could mean, since magic was magic and he wanted to see as much of it as he could. It would not do, however, to contradict her. He did not want his mother to decide he wasn't ready for society after all. He set his attention instead on King Theodore and Queen Margaret, who were now walking up the stairs of some sort of dais on the side of the room. They did not wear crowns, and yet something about them looked regal; or perhaps that was just Aubrey's fancy. It was the first time he was seeing them in person rather than in the newspapers or, in the king's case, minted onto a coin. The two of them didn't resemble each other, even though they were first cousins. Aubrey started running through what he could remember of their family tree in his head. King Theodore's mother had been an Arnician princess, Aubrey recalled, which accounted for his coloring--he was all dark curls and browned olive skin, whereas Queen Margaret's creamy complexion looked like she would burn on a hot day as much as he and his own family would--but then the queen grinned over at her husband, and Aubrey stopped thinking about bloodlines. "Oh my," his own mother said, next to him. Aubrey considered this a vast understatement. The queen had crooked her finger, and a huge creature of flames leapt from one of the oversized fireplaces down at the end of the room and started to gambol around back and forth on the ceiling, as though searching for something. It undulated through all the shades of a roaring fire, red and orange in some parts, a yellow so pale it was almost white in others, changing constantly. Aubrey was bouncing on his toes now--he couldn't help himself--and wondering if King Theodore could also do something so strange and wonderful, when the king created a creature of his own in a great showy gesture, as though pulling from the faraway flames with a giant, invisible rope. The firebeasts started chasing each other around the ceiling, leading to a great deal of gasping from the crowd, and then they solidified a little more clearly into dragons, the symbol of the royal family. They started looping each other, blowing flames and snapping their jaws, until one darted in to rub its cheek against the other's. Aubrey thought that one was the king's. The two creatures were blending into each other now, and then they headed for the far side of the room, settling down in one of the larger fireplaces together, embracing. People started to applaud; Aubrey joined in as enthusiastically as he dared in such a sophisticated crowd. "Our courtship," the king joked, which made everyone clap harder, laughing. Aubrey's heart was racing. He wished his parents had brought him to the capital years ago; he felt like the world's possibilities had been remade in front of him. He had grown up knowing that the king and queen both had strong magical gifts, giving them some control over the four elements. Seeing their abilities in person was different. This was why Theodore was the king rather than his brother, Prince Willard, who was the firstborn, but who could only manipulate water. Aubrey knew from the schoolroom that Margaret had also been considered as the next monarch, but as a niece of the previous king rather than a direct descendant, she had been considered less suitable. He wondered at that now, because they appeared--to his untrained eye, at least--to be evenly matched. Aubrey hoped they would be running through all four elements so that he could see if they were a match in each one, but then the king and queen waved to the crowd and headed for the stairs. He was promising himself that he would quiz his father on the topic later when Mrs. Follett startled him by letting out a tutting noise. "The young prince is hiding again," she said, motioning to a figure just visible behind a set of large potted plants that were now being carried up to the stage by an army of footmen. The last pot was cleared out of the way, and that was when Aubrey forgot all about elemental magic, because he had just gotten a clear look at Edmund, Crown Prince of Saben. He was well worth looking at. Aubrey could see why his aunt had said he seemed serious. He had big, dark eyes that seemed to take in everything that was happening on the stage. His coloring met in the middle of his parents, giving him lighter brown curls than his father's and skin that, though still a rich olive, hadn't tanned so darkly as the king's. But where the king and queen had been confident and full of smiles, the prince looked tense and nervous even at this distance, his posture stiff and his hands curled. Aubrey's heart bled for him. He thought of everything that his brothers (who were clearly blind and dim-witted) had said about him: how he was socially awkward and barely spoke. "He's shy," Aubrey said, almost a question. Mrs. Follett nodded. "The poor young buck. Although perhaps I'd hide as well. His parents are a hard act to follow, especially when his powers are--well. He's hardly a dragon, ready to wipe out whole Honal armies for us with the wave of his hand, is he?" Aubrey felt Wilson stiffen next to him, but then his mother said, "Blowing away enemy troops is all very well, but none of the rest of them could have done anything like, say, cleaning up that problem with the potato crops the country had two or three years ago. A lot of people would have gone hungry if His Highness hadn't intervened." "Yes, well, I hope those pots aren't full of rotting potatoes," Mrs. Follett said, peering at them. "Last time I saw him, we were all outside in the daylight, and he made a double rainbow appear for us. That was at least pretty . But what's he going to do here?" Aubrey bit his lip. He had known Prince Edmund's magic was different from the rest of the royal family's. A Prince of Fortune had some control over the weather, the crops. It was rare as well as useful; no one had borne the title in centuries. But what would that mean tonight? And how stressful must it be for that quiet young man to have to stand up and perform in front of people like Mrs. Follett? Aubrey realized he was furrowing his brow and forced his face to relax. Wrinkles. The prince took off one of his gloves and set his hand into the first pot. Aubrey held his breath, and then there was a collective "oooh" from the crowd. The plant was growing and sending up thin flower spikes before their eyes. Aubrey, however, had almost missed seeing it. He had been focused on the prince's faraway expression, rather than the miracle he was performing. Prince Edmund moved on to the next plant and then the next, the plants blooming more readily each time. It was like something from a dream, Aubrey thought, much quieter than the king and queen's performance but no less astonishing. They were lavender, a long-stemmed variety. Everyone started clapping politely, and Aubrey joined in. Just as he was thinking that he'd like to get a sprig for his mother, since it was her favorite plant, the herald announced that the shoots would be cut during the evening, and made available for anyone who would like a souvenir from the ball. People clapped more enthusiastically after that. Meanwhile, the prince had bobbed his head and almost run off the stage to the stairs. "Dozens of prophecies about what a wonderful king he's going to be," Mrs. Follett said, "and he can't even bow properly. Ah--and speaking of poor manners..." The woman's tone had switched to something that was almost vicious, and Aubrey stopped trying to see where the crown prince had gone and turned his attention back to the stage. A gray-haired older man was walking up the stairs. He did not look much like the king, but this must be his brother, Prince Willard. His eyes appeared lighter from here, his skin paler, as though he didn't see as much sun, but that wasn't the main difference between them. King Theodore had an easy, hearty energy about him that seemed to invite one to watch him, whereas Prince Willard... did not. As he was introduced by the herald, he wasn't even smiling, just waving in a vague, floppy sort of way at the crowd. He took off his gloves, much as Prince Edmund had, and waved again. He had a strange mark on the back of his right hand, leading around the side and disappearing up his sleeve. Aubrey turned to his mother, tapping his own hand in the same place. Before he could ask the question, she answered it with "Prince Willard saw action at Folbrage. We were even in one of the same battles. That scar on his hand is from an explosive device he didn't freeze in time." He looked back, feeling emboldened to stare since the mark was a sign of heroism. The prince was now motioning sharply at footmen in livery who were bringing up silver basins. He made a twitchy, impatient movement to dismiss them, and then Aubrey was distracted from all the ways he wasn't like King Theodore, because clouds of steam pouring up from the basins suddenly obscured him from the crowd's sight. Everybody made interested noises. The cloud started swirling into a tighter configuration, and then it was raining down over the stage as something like hail. Prince Willard, visible again, had his arms out. He dropped them in acknowledgment as the crowd started clapping, but then he walked off the stage every bit as quickly as his nephew had. Footmen came up to sweep the ice away. Aubrey's confusion and disappointment must have shown in his face, because his mother bumped him with her shoulder and said, "Yes, that was a bit quick, wasn't it? It doesn't help that he gave up smiling after his wife died, but Willard never was as good with a crowd as the king and queen. Like the crown prince, he's not much of a performer." Aubrey wanted to say something about how, actually, the two hadn't seemed remotely alike. The Prince of Fortune had looked like he needed to be reassured he had done a good job and cheered up, whereas Prince Willard had seemed oddly incongruous. He should surely have had enough experience with this sort of thing to be past the nerves that his nephew had exhibited. Aubrey kept these thoughts to himself, however, since he knew he'd sound ridiculous. He'd never met either man. He changed the subject instead. "Over there, is that Princess Charlotte with her fiancé? Prince Henri looks much more the picture of a prince than her father." Mrs. Follett's eyes lit up with malicious delight, and he quickly added, "Oh, I didn't mean that to be unkind--" "No, no!" she said. "You are quite right, my lord. He does, doesn't he? He's all strong shoulders and square jawline; we can feel his presence from here. Not like Limp Wi--" "The king wrote to John about Prince Henri," Lady Ainsley interjected. "His Majesty said Charlotte is well satisfied with the match, and that the government was very pleased, since he is one of the Hasprennan crown prince's younger sons. Look at her. She's glowing." Aubrey looked; Princess Charlotte was in the center of the dais now, waiting more patiently than her father had for a line of servants to set up a round table and place pitchers of water on it. The princess nodded, and her assistants started pouring the water into a silver basin. The princess looked nothing like Prince Willard. Her hair was a light brown, and her skin was reasonably fair--Aubrey thought that she must have gotten that from her mother and wondered at how little she resembled the rest of the royal family--but then suddenly her face had the same dreamy look that had come over Prince Edmund's when he had made his first plant grow. Ice started rising on the table. The servants poured and poured the water, and a shape started to emerge as the princess moved her hands gracefully: winged creatures, like the king's and queen's, but this time there was a great eagle--Hasprenna's symbol--embracing a dragon. Aubrey watched, thinking that the sculpture wasn't just an impressive display of natural-born talent at making things freeze, the way her father's had been. It was art. "That's beautifully rendered," he said. "She makes that seem so natural, but she must practice a lot." "Yes, indeed," Mrs. Follett said, sounding surprised. "Clearly having this settled is good for her. I've never seen her make anything like that. And I hear the wedding ceremony will be held in Hasprenna?" Lady Ainsley said something in agreement that Aubrey didn't quite catch, since music started up at that point. It took Aubrey a moment or two to place the piece, because it sounded so much better performed here by professional musicians than at their neighbor's house, played by their nine-year-old daughter on an aging spinet. "It won't be long, and we'll all be here for another of these, I'm sure," Mrs. Follett said. "The family will certainly be making plans for a match for the crown prince soon. Has the king said anything about it, Mary?" Lady Ainsley shook her head, but before she could speak, a lady to the other side of Mrs. Follett piped up. Aubrey hadn't caught her name. "Folbrage is out of the running, of course. Anyone the right age for him is already spoken for--see, there's two of the princesses, with their husbands. But the Frithan and Arnician parties certainly look promising." She motioned with her fan toward them. Aubrey recognized them from their fashions, the Frithans in the bright floral patterns that their textiles were famous for and the Arnicians in clashing colors, their men's breeches so short as to look very foreign to his eyes. There was a titter about thighs, but Aubrey missed the joke because he was so busy being horrified at the thought of that handsome, anxious prince marrying some stranger with his knees on display or a woman in a bright dress. Dancing started shortly afterward, however, which meant that the chatter was cut off as people went to get into position. "Mother," Wilson hissed as they moved across the room. "Who was that woman?" Lady Ainsley's body shuddered with suppressed laughter. "Mrs. Follett was my captain when I served," she said, "and she is--well, her current position is a secret, but do not be fooled by the way she talks. She would lay down her life for any member of the royal family in a heartbeat. Now, go join her daughters for the group dance, and don't forget to head to the private supper room at the first break. The king invited us especially." She pushed Wilson in the direction of the dancers. Aubrey followed, thinking not of dancing, but of the supper and meeting the crown prince. He wanted to see that face smile. Excerpted from Prince of Fortune by Lisa Tirreno All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
