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News of Ferris’s betrothal traveled quickly; presents from Brizen began arriving within a fortnight of her return: bolts of cloth laced with blumet and gold; a black mare from Dremen that galloped faster than a hawk could fly; pearls from the southern isles. All the same a month passed while Ferris waited for Avender’s ribs to heal before she started south. She wouldn’t leave for Malmoret without him.
“If I’d been thinking straight,” she told her mother one morning while shelling peas, “I’d have asked Reiffen to heal him before he left, the way he did in Backford. Avender is so uncomfortable. And he’s in a bad mood all the time.”
“I haven’t noticed you minding the wait.”
“You know I’m going to miss Valing terribly.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you don’t mind?”
“Yes, Mother. I’m sure.”
Hern clucked patiently, the way she had when Ferris was a child. “You know perfectly well a young woman’s allowed to change her mind,” she said, regarding her daughter steadily. “In fact she’s supposed to, if she thinks she’s made a mistake.”
“I haven’t made a mistake and I haven’t changed my mind. It’s not like I’m marrying Nod Woolson. Who’s already gotten himself engaged to Renny Punter, I see.”
“Hmm.” Hern looked like she was about to say one thing, then changed her mind and said another. “You know, dear, no one’s been happier for you in this marriage than me, but if I pushed you too hard, I’ll understand. Prince Brizen’s fine and good, and that moonstruck on you I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself, but if you can’t bring yourself to love him, you should give it up right now.”
“I’ll love him, Mother. It might take me a while, but I’ll love him. I’ll be as good a wife to him as any wife ever was. You can be sure of that.”
They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the pea pods snapping. Overhead the sky swung sharply from blue to gray to blue again as the sun played catch-up with the clouds. For the hundredth time since Reiffen had left, Ferris told herself might-have-beens were for moony farm girls, and she certainly wasn’t one of those.
“We’ll leave as soon as Avender can travel,” she went on. “I’ve said that all along. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my last end of summer in Valing.”
The lower slopes of the mountains had already turned from green to gold by the time Ferris finally started on her journey to Malmoret. Her parents and Avender went with her, while Durk rode in a mesh bag tied to Avender’s saddle. The thanes and knights who accompanied them were delighted to make the talking stone’s acquaintance and wouldn’t let him shut up once during the entire trip.
“If everyone in Malmoret is like these fine cavaliers,” confided the stone to Avender when they reached Lugger, “I shall surely make my fortune.”
“But what will you spend it on?”
“Why, gems and jewels, of course. I’ve decided, if I’m going to be a stone, I might as well associate with the very best. No pebbly riffraff for me, thank you very much.”
Because the preparations for the wedding were taking place in Malmoret, they sailed to Eddstone Harbor in Wayland rather than directly to Banking. Wayland would have a processional across the southeastern corner of the country as its share of the celebrations. At Lower Neeling, the first village inland from Eddstone, Ferris and her party were met by a large banner spanning the center of the street. “WELCOME PRINCESS FERRISS!” it proclaimed. Behind it the lane was crammed with tables bowing under the weight of the feast prepared for the princess’s arrival.
“Look at that,” said Avender. “They didn’t even get your name—”
Ferris smacked his arm away before he could point at the banner. She had suddenly realized just how much of an ordeal this was going to be before they even got to Malmoret, and had no wish for Avender to make it worse. Boys and girls ran up and down the dusty street shouting, “She’s here! She’s here!” But the town elders had evidently received earlier warning and were already standing in front of the public house with various bundles in their hands as the rest of the village raced in from the fields. The thane and his wife stood at the very front, the largest bundle of all draped over the shoulder of the page beside them.
Durk, riding alone on a velvet cushion on a dappled gray pony, served as herald. “Fine people of Lower Neeling,” he proclaimed, “thanes and swineherds, goodwives and farmers, grans and babes, tanners and lumberjacks, coopers and public men, barbers and weavers, tipplers and the infirm, it is my great honor and pleasure and privilege and delight to present to you Her Highness Ferris of Valing, Beauty of the Bavadars, Lady of the Lake, Mistress of the Manor, Virgin of the Gorge, and your future queen!”
The thane and his wife, and everyone behind them, bowed low. Ferris nodded her head regally and made up her mind that Durk would not be her herald much longer.
“Welcome, Princess Ferris, to our humble village.” The thane’s ruddy face beamed. Beside him his wife, a large bouquet of flowers in her arms, could barely contain her excitement.
“You honor me, Thane.” Ferris stared at Avender until he realized he was supposed to help her dismount.
“Oh no, Your Highness. It is we who are honored.” The ends of the thane’s mustache quivered in the full gale of his excitement. “In the name of the king, we welcome you to Wayland. Lower Neeling is proud to be the first stop on your triumphant tour through our fair land.”
A stout young man standing behind the thane and his wife, whom Ferris suspected to be their oldest son, raised a thick hand. “Everyone! Let’s give a cheer to Princess Ferris! Hip, hip, hooray!”
When the cheers finally died down the thane’s wife stepped forward. “These are for you, milady,” she said hesitantly, presenting her bouquet.
“They’re beautiful.”
“If you would care to join us, we have a simple meal set out for you.”
The thane and his wife stood back to allow Ferris an open field at the food. If the formality was this bad when she was only engaged, she wondered, how much worse would it be after she was married? Popping a large black grape from the bunch at the head of the table into her mouth, she soon guessed that no one would follow her until she had made her way down to the far end. So she moved on, sampling a little of this and a little of that, fresh bread and roast pork and a steaming tub of buttered squash. Remembering that princesses weren’t supposed to wipe their fingers off on their riding habits, she looked around for a napkin. Avender, quicker this time, was beside her in a moment, his handkerchief in his hand.
“Your Highness,” he said gravely.
“Stop it,” she whispered, “or I’ll order you beheaded.”
When she was finished, she turned and bowed to the expectant villagers. From the way they still restrained themselves, she decided they were waiting for something more.
“Thank you,” she said grandly. “Lower Neeling is indeed blessed with the, um, bounties of the land. And such good cooking, too!”
It was the best she could do on short notice, but she was going to have to work on her speechifying if this was going to keep up.
“Do you think they’re going to do this at every town we come to?” she asked Avender when they were resting for a moment under a large elm in the center of the village.
“I hope not.”
“I’ll run away if they do.”
“Your Majesty must learn to accept her new responsibilities.”
“Not yet, if I can help it. And stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’.”
Not until she had opened her gifts was the company allowed to depart. While a pair of dogs fought over the last mutton bone, Ferris received a large pumpkin, two beeberry pies, a leather belt with all the houses on the village street worked into the design, and six embroidered handkerchiefs. The thane’s gift, which the page had been lugging around all this time, came last. Unwrapping it, Ferris found a large quilt with a border the color of blooming heather and many brightly stitched panels.
“Every goodwife and maid in Lower and Upper Neeling helped make that,” said the thane proudly, his red face even redder after his beef and beer. “See? There’s a panel shows you meeting the prince that first time in Rimwich. And here’s one of you traveling with the Dwarf and the bear. And this one has you finding the Talking Stone. Our girl, Willamette, did that one.”
“It’s lovely. They’re all lovely.” Ferris pointed at what looked like a giant black rat with an extra-thick tail being poked in the eye by a blue stick figure. “And this is?”
Mrs. Thane turned away with another blush. Her husband threw out his chest, the leather straps on his cuirass strained to their limit. “That’s my wife’s, that is. It shows the noble knight Avender slaying the mander.” The Thane turned his attention momentarily toward the princess’s companion. “Very brave that was, if you don’t mind my saying, Sir Avender. And you still only a boy and all.”
“You honor me, sir,” said Avender with a bow.
Though the quilt’s history was incorrect, Ferris thanked her hosts with the pretty speech she had been preparing ever since she saw this moment coming. Much later than originally planned, the party finally continued on.
And so it went, all the way to Nearside on the northern bank of the Great River. On the other side of the drifting current the towers and turrets of Malmoret shimmered brightly like damselfly wings at the edge of a pond. Galleys were drawn up at the Nearside dock and, after the town had put on its little show, all the smaller in the knowledge that Malmoret’s far greater pomp was yet to come, Ferris and her company set off across the broad, slow stream.
Small boats bore down upon them, the occupants hoping for an early view of their new princess. From the middle of the river came the sound of hammering across the water. Ferris spied a long, black barge moored midway between Banking and Wayland.
“What’s that?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am.” The captain touched the edge of his gold braided hat. “That’s where the wedding’s to take place day after tomorrow. That way no one on either side of the river can claim they were given preference.”
“King Brannis is an astute ruler,” observed Berrel.
“As Brizen will be one day,” said Ferris.
They found Giserre waiting for them on the long stone quays of Malmoret, at the head of a gilded company. Her black dress matched her midnight hair, a golden girdle at her waist to go with the diadem at her head.
“Welcome to Malmoret, princess.” Giserre’s clear voice rang out across the dock. A cheer went up from the workmen on the wharves around her. “Welcome to my city. As King Brannis and Prince Brizen are in the Old Palace, I have been sent to lead you to the New.”
“Giserre,” Ferris exclaimed. “We hardly expected to find you here.”
“Malmoret is my home,” she replied. “Now that Reiffen is acclaimed a hero, it is my privilege to return. Besides, you would not expect me to miss your wedding, would you?”
They rode together, Ferris and Giserre, in a gilded coach with tall wheels pulled by four snow-white mares. Avender and the Valing stewards followed in the car behind. Cheering crowds packed the broad streets; girls in brightly colored dresses scattered rose petals across the cobblestoned road. Some in the crowd waved the black and orange of Banking, some the brown and green of Wayland. Not a few sported white flags, which some court official had decided was the proper color for frosty, snowbound Valing. Ferris smiled and waved to them all, though she couldn’t quite shake the feeling she was being led into a world from which she could never escape. The thought of endless processions, and balls and receptions and afternoon teas, chilled her as much as Fornoch’s touch.
“Is Reiffen here?” she asked, her eyes on the happy crowds around her.
“He has been gone this last month,” replied Giserre.
“He said he would come back to teach me magic.”
“He will. When the time is right.”
Finally the horses stepped into the courtyard of the New Palace, where flowers graced the walls and windows above like lamplight in Vonn Kurr. A beautiful woman with blond hair and a charming smile curtsied deeply at the door. “Welcome to your new home, Lady Ferris,” she declared warmly. “I hope you will find everything satisfactory.”
“Lady Wellin is to be chief among your ladies-in-waiting,” explained Giserre.
“I hope we’ll be great friends,” said Ferris.
Lady Wellin inclined her head. “Your friendship will be my honor, my lady.”
“Please call me Ferris. And I’ll call you Wellin, if I’m allowed.” She glanced nervously at Giserre.
Giserre smiled. “You’re allowed. But try to keep your affection to the privacy of your own apartments as much as possible. Certain displays must be maintained before the world.”
Wellin led them inside, where they were met by the rest of Ferris’s noble attendants and taken on a tour of the Palace. In awe, Hern trailed dutifully behind her daughter, Avender and her husband at her side. When they were done, the majordomo inquired what time her ladyship would like dinner to be served. Ferris glanced helplessly at Giserre.
“Her Highness would like very much for the palace staff to maintain their normal routine as much as possible, Sir Nevis. Please serve dinner at the regular hour. The stewards, Sir Avender, and I shall join the princess for the meal in her apartments.”
Ferris’s apartment turned out to have more rooms than she remembered to count, with ceilings as tall as the Great Hall back home. Paintings of all kinds filled the walls, from miniatures no larger than her outspread hand to panoramas of ancient battles that stretched from wall to wall. Three full-length portraits dominated the drawing room, one each for Brannis and Brizen, an elegant woman in between. Ferris didn’t recognize the middle figure at first, as the face was about ten feet off the floor, but, when she stepped further back into the room, she realized the woman was supposed to be her. The likeness wasn’t very close, as if the artist had been working from others’ descriptions, but the color of the eyes and hair was her own, and the general shape of the face. Judging from the heights of the two men on either side, the artist had made her a little taller, too. But the dress! Every detail was perfect, from the stitching in the cuffs and collar to the pale gleam of the pearls sewn in dozens along the sleeves. Ferris had never seen such a dress and, though she had spent much of her life preferring rough brown skirts and woolen sweaters, found herself hoping the painting might some day come true. The color was perfect, the pale yellow of autumn beech leaves, trimmed in deep warm gold.
“It is a lovely painting,” said Wellin, mistaking Ferris’s regard. “Mirim will come back to finish it, now you have arrived. I do hope you approve that I served as his model. You are only a little taller than I.”
And a little thinner, thought Ferris, as she eyed the other’s lovely figure. But the artist had apparently been told about that too, and had made Ferris slim and elegant in the splendid yellow gown.
She found it impossible to dismiss the ladies-in-waiting but, with Wellin herding everyone off to another part of the apartment, she did manage to take her bath alone. The tub room, thankfully, was without portraiture, though the walls were painted with what looked like someone who had never been to Valing’s incorrect view of what a late-summer day might look like on the Lake. The fishermen more closely resembled gentleman anglers than men who made their living with nets and small boats, and the nokken, some of whom appeared to be carrying fat whitefins back to the fishermen, looked a little too much like dogs. Ferris would have snorted with disdain if the mural hadn’t reminded her of Skimmer, and the reason she had decided to get married in the first place.
Closing her eyes, she sank into the tub and drove all memories of nokken from her mind. There were taps in the wall, just like in Issinlough, and the hot water splashed into the bath shortly after she turned it on. Despite the ladies-in-waiting and all the waving from carriages, she decided there might be some advantages to being a princess after all. She had always liked her baths, and now that taking one was so easy she might be able to bathe twice a week at least.
She snuck into her dressing room when she was finished. Alone, she went through the wardrobes and trunks that filled the chamber, running her eyes and fingers along the silks and satins, linens and lace. Although she found all sorts of dresses, some of which looked almost as enchanting as the gown in the painting, she put on the plainest one she could find. Until she had actually earned that wardrobe, she told herself, it wouldn’t do to get too carried away.
Someone had snatched her boots for cleaning, so, after finding the shoes and slippers provided all too small and tight, she reappeared in the drawing room in bare feet.
The ladies-in-waiting quailed. A conspiratorial smile dimpled Wellin’s cheeks. “But Your Highness,” she declared. “Such a thing is just not done!”
Ferris rubbed her toes comfortably in the thick carpet. “It will be.”
Giserre barely suppressed a smile of her own when she returned for supper with the others and saw Ferris’s bare toes. “Really, Ferris. You could allow everyone a little more time to get used to your wild, northern ways.”
“I say give it to ‘em as fast as you can,” said Avender.
“Don’t listen to him,” ordered Hern. “He’s spent too much time with Redburr. Giserre is right.”
“Remember your dignity,” chipped in Durk.
They were admiring the view of the river and gardens through one of the tall, thin windows that opened onto the terrace when a large, brown shape tumbled wetly over the wall. Paws slipping on instant puddles, Redburr scrabbled across the stone into the room.
Hern was aghast. “What’s wrong with you! You can’t come in here. You’re dripping wet!”
Ferris fell back against a settee to avoid being flattened, but was up and after the bear like her mother in a moment.
“Don’t you even think about shaking in here. I’ll ban you from the wedding feast if you do. Don’t think I won’t. Avender, there’s a year’s supply of towels in the closet off my bath. Bring all you can. I swear, Redburr, if you get so much as a single hair on any of the furniture in this room I’ll stuff you myself.”
The bear looked up at her with a mournful gaze that suggested he had never misbehaved in his entire life. “That fool Nevis won’t let me in the palace as long as I’m a bear. He says I have to change, otherwise he’s making me stay in the stables.”
“What did you do, swim here from there?”
“I did.”
“Sir Nevis is no fool, Redburr.” With thumb and forefinger extended, Giserre plucked a waterlogged muffin from behind the Shaper’s ear. “Have you perhaps been visiting other sections of the palace?”
Redburr made a half-hearted swipe for the muffin with his teeth, but Giserre pulled it out of reach. “Well, I did make a couple of cooks unhappy. And I don’t think they’ll let me into the dairy again even if I do make the switch.”
“What switch?” asked Avender as he and Berrel returned with the towels.
Another trip was required before they had the bear dry enough that he no longer threatened to flood the room. Then more towels were necessary before they finished mopping the floor. By that time dinner had arrived. The head cook brought it up himself as an excuse to meet the future princess, but he lost his composure completely as soon as he saw the bear. Trusting Ferris to protect him, Redburr began sniffing at the trays. Hern smacked him with a pillow from one of the deep, plush couches.
Giserre assured the cook that Redburr would make no more forays into the kitchen. “I will, however, speak to Sir Nevis about the necessity of allowing the Oeinnen into the Palace. He needs to be informed that Redburr will be much better behaved as long as one of us knows where he is at all times.”
With Redburr banished to a spot on the floor where the rugs had been rolled up and replaced with towels, they all sat down to one of the most delicious meals any of them had ever tasted. They were finishing the last of the cakes when a footman opened the door and announced a familiar shape.
“Dwvon!” Ferris flew up from the table to greet him. “Have you found Nolo yet?”
Dust drifted from the Bryddin’s beard as Ferris pecked him on the cheek. “No, but we will. We’ve tunneled into the main hall. Now it’s just a question of how deep he fell. Uhle’s supervising the dig, so he sent me with a gift instead.”
“And Lady Breeanna?” asked Avender.
“Garven found her on the Backford Way. Mother Norra’s keeping her in Issinlough until she’s fit to travel.”
The mention of a gift brought Redburr out of his sulk. He padded forward from his bed of towels. “A wedding present? From Uhle? It’s probably worth half of Banking.”
From inside his cloak, Dwvon drew out a large wooden box, its dark wood polished to a deep glow. The swirls and knobs of the elaborate carving might easily hide any number of openings. Dwvon pushed on one and poked at another, then lifted the top off the container as easily as Hern might open her sewing box.
Redburr sniffed suspiciously at the flicker of movement inside. “They’re alive,” he said.
Ferris gasped as she realized what Uhle had done. “It’s moonstones.”
With trembling hands, she lifted the gems from the soft velvet of their container. Strung together on a thin loop of blumet, the largest in the middle and the smallest at either end, each separated by tiny blue or yellow sapphires, the stony pearls flickered and flashed in their own silent storms.
“Oh, Dwvon. It’s beautiful. Please tell Uhle for me. And thank him, too.”
Hern and Giserre came close to examine the gift. “Moonstones?” asked Giserre. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“They’re lamps made with moon and starlight,” answered Dwvon. “Those two don’t bind to stone as well as sunlight and fire.”
“We need to see you wearing this, my dear.” Gently Giserre lifted the strand of swirling gems out of its dark box and draped the stones around the younger woman’s shoulders. “It suits you perfectly.”
“It feels beautiful.” Indeed the necklace lay as easily on Ferris’s shoulders as a summer shawl. She felt no weight at all, though some of the stones were larger than acorns.
“You can wear it at the ceremony,” suggested Redburr. “Brannis will like that. A pretty addition to his kingdom.”
“The gift is to the girl and not her husband-to-be,” said Giserre.
“Do you really think I should wear it?”
“Of course. Let us hope it matches your gown.”
“I need a mirror.”
Her bare feet padding softly across the thick rugs of the New Palace, Ferris went off in search of a mirror to admire her treasure.
The next morning Wellin knocked on the door as soon as Ferris had finished dressing. “You have a visitor, my lady.”
The Banking woman ducked away without announcing the guest. Assuming it was the prince, Ferris began composing herself at once. She hadn’t seen Brizen since the time they had kissed, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to start up again where they had left off until she worked herself up to it. So much had happened in between.
The door opened. Ferris curtsied. Her visitor wasn’t Brizen, however. It was the king.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Your Majesty,” she said.
He returned her greeting with a nod and crossed to the windows, ignoring the wet towels still piled on the floor. Beyond the garden, bright sunshine made the brown river sparkle like the scales on a leaping fish.
“Although it is not customary,” he began, “I thought you and I might meet at least once before the wedding.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“We need to talk.”
“We do, Your Majesty?”
Brannis turned to face her. Ferris knew she wasn’t supposed to sit while the king stood but thought about doing so anyway, just to prove he couldn’t bully her. Only she was determined to be a good wife, and being a good wife meant paying the proper respect to her father-in-law.
“Don’t play coy with me, miss. You know exactly what I mean.” Brannis stepped around the couch, avoiding the wet spot on the rug without seeming to have noticed it. “Why are you marrying my son?”
Ferris drew herself up to her full height, imagining Giserre would have done the same. “I should think that would be obvious, Your Majesty. He asked me.”
“That’s no answer. I ask you again, why are you marrying him?”
“You expect me to refuse him?”
“Yes. You refused him before. Why accept him now?”
Ferris ran her fingers along the dark upholstery. “I changed my mind.”
“Of course you did. That is why I am here. I believe I have a good idea of what your reasons were without your telling me. My informants have provided me with all the circumstances behind this summer’s events in Valing.”
“Then why are you here? Have you come to see if your spies told you the truth?”
“The truthfulness of my spies is not your concern. I am here to find out what I must give you, in order to persuade you to change your mind again.”
“I am not one of your hirelings, Your Majesty, to be bought and sold.”
“No, you are not. But I am convinced you can be persuaded to end this foolish engagement. I am not the only one to note you do not seem to love Brizen greatly.”
“You have not seen us together for more than a year,” replied Ferris proudly. “Much has changed. I now realize Brizen is the finest man I know. He loves me.”
“Yes, he does. So much so, he has finally found his own legs beneath him. Never has he crossed my will in anything before. For that, I thank you. I like this new determination you have brought out in him. It is why I am not forbidding the marriage. With you, however, I need show no such restraint.”
“I will not give him up.”
“Are you sure you will make him happy? Will your eyes stay on home and hearth, or will they wander north? There are others who will take him, if you turn away. Valing brings nothing to my kingdom. Lady Wellin, however, with her holdings in the south, would bring a great deal.”
“I should have known she was part of this.”
“Wellin? She knows more than she ought, and no doubt understands why I am here, but she is not privy to my councils. And there is no plotting behind my offer, mind you. I only thought you should know, now that your former lover has returned the hero, if you wish to call this marriage off, I will not stop you. Just the opposite, in fact. I am prepared to reward you. Generously.”
“What could you possibly offer me I would accept? Some dingy estate near Wetting? A barony for my firstborn? I have all I want in Valing, should I ever choose to return. I need nothing from you, or Brizen.”
Brannis smiled. “Is that really true? Would you ever actually return to Valing? What sort of woman from that place would choose to fall in love with a prince? An ambitious one, I think. One even more ambitious than Lady Wellin, and more imaginative as well. You will make my son a fine queen, whether you love him or not, of that I am certain. But your dower is too small to be of any use to me. Wellin, at least, would bring the barons to my side, regardless of your fledgling wizard’s promises.”
Ferris’s temper flared. “You can be sure Reiffen will keep his word. Which is more than you ever did.”
Brannis’s eyes narrowed. “Promises may be regretted, as you may discover yourself one day. In the meantime, I tell you plainly, it is better to break my son’s heart now than later. Better for him, and better for you, too. Better even for me, perhaps, as I believe he will be more manageable in the matter of his next choice once you hurt him.”
Ferris shook her head in disbelief. “You’re even more horrible than I thought. How can you say such a thing about your own son? I’m going to be a wonderful wife for Brizen. You just watch me.”
“Perhaps you will.” Ignoring Ferris’s anger, Brannis started for the door. “He will love you dearly for it, if you do. As will I. But it will be hard for you, not loving him. Think about what I have said. You can change your mind at any time. The choice is yours.”
Ferris stared furiously at the door as it closed behind the king. But she was flattered, too, at the idea that Brannis thought she would make a good queen. Clearly he saw right through her. More than her mother. More than anyone, perhaps. But she would prove him wrong, she would prove them all wrong. She would love Brizen as no one had ever been loved before.
Sulking, and almost as angry with herself as she was with the king, Ferris flopped onto the nearest couch. None of this was working out the way she expected.
But the rest of the day was delightful. She had anticipated a miserable morning and afternoon of fittings and sittings, only to discover early on that the dress in the painting was the one she would be married in. That made the fittings much less annoying. Uhle’s necklace went well with it, the topazes setting off the yellow and gold fabric nicely, and the moonstones going well with the pearls. Ferris found herself fingering both in amazement whenever she had them on. They seemed made for someone else; touching them was the only thing that made her even half believe they really were her own.
Exhausted by her long day, she fell asleep that night dreaming of moonbeams and storms.
The next morning dawned clear and cool. Autumn scraped down from the north, the wind chipping the river into ridges of white and steel-blue. The pennants in the palace garden flapped crisp and stiff in the breeze.
Giserre and Hern arrived, a squadron of ladies-in-waiting behind them, with Wellin bringing up the rear. Hern tried gamely to take command, but in the end she had to defer to Giserre’s and Wellin’s vastly superior knowledge. Ferris submitted while her attendants performed their jobs. Getting into the dress was mystery enough, what with the hooks and stays and buttons the likes of which she had never seen before, but there were also the stockings and the powder and the rouge and her hair. By the time they were finished Ferris felt like a goose trussed up for a winter feast. She gasped as Giserre led her to a long mirror; for the first time in her life she thought she looked beautiful. Maybe her eyes were too small, and it would be nice if her hair were as dark as Giserre’s, or her figure more like Lady Wellin’s. Her heart beat rapidly: it was a heady feeling, looking beautiful. For the first time she truly understood what Giserre had given up by exiling herself in Valing.
The ladies-in-waiting nearly fainted when Hern brought out the moonstone necklace as the final touch. Even Wellin’s eyes shone when she fastened the clasp at the back of her mistress’s neck. Then, her ladies protecting her like an imperial guard, Ferris waltzed through the palace in her splendid gown. Servants gasped, curtsied, and bowed as she passed. The same carriage that had carried her from the dock two days before stood ready in the courtyard, four chestnut stallions stamping impatiently as they waited their turn to parade. Avender, arrayed in shining silver armor like a proper hero, tugged uncomfortably at his collar. Durk hung from a ribbon round his neck.
“How does she look?” asked the stone.
“Like a queen,” answered Avender sadly.
“I wish I could see it.”
“Where are Redburr and Dwvon?” inquired Ferris as her father helped her into the carriage.
“They had to go on ahead,” he said. “Redburr was making the horses nervous.”
On a gray gelding, Avender led the way. Pale gravel sprayed out behind the carriage wheels. Two more coaches followed: the stewards, Giserre, and Wellin in one, and the ladies-in-waiting in the other. A column of the king’s own cavalry brought up the rear.
Ferris grew more and more nervous the closer they came to the docks. This time the crowds that lined the streets waved small yellow and gold flags as they cheered. At the riverside a small galley rested at the end of the longest pier, oars raised. Ship and rowers alike were draped in green and black. In the middle of the craft, where the mast would normally have been, stood a raised throne.
She stepped into the galley clasping her father’s hand while Avender helped Giserre. A gull eyed the moonstone necklace greedily from the top of a stone bollard. When the last lady-in-waiting had been eased into the middle of the boat, the helmsman cast off. Lowering their oars, the rowers pulled the craft quickly across the flat water of the harbor, cutting the dark surface with long, clean strokes. Ferris shaded her eyes with her yellow-gloved hand and stared from her high seat out across the dark back of the river to the far-off smudge of the barge.
The sun was nearly straight up in the sky when they arrived. Sailors in the same green and black as the men who had rowed her ran a railed gangway directly to Ferris’s chair. Crossing, she found herself at the top of an aisle between rows of guests. At the bottom Brizen regarded her from a raised platform with his father, a green-and-black canopy suspended over the stern to shade them from the sun. Ferris thought he looked terribly handsome in his uniform and sword, his face suffused with joy. Reiffen would never have looked at her that way, no matter how much he loved her.
Her father offered his arm. Redburr, his red fur brushed and combed, peered down the aisle at her from the spot up front where he and Dwvon had found choice seats. Determined she would be stronger than all the rest of them put together, but also afraid her knees would give out, Ferris marched forward.
Brizen’s joy increased as she left her father and stood beside him. Trembling, she gave him her arm.
“Shall we begin?” asked the king, regal in his crown and robes of state.
A jet of water fountained up from the river behind them. Like hoof beats on a dry road, it cascaded heavily onto the canopy overhead.
“Hey, Ferris!” came a voice from the water. “Why didn’t you invite me? I can’t believe you’re getting married without inviting me!”
Careful of tripping in her dress, Ferris stepped past the king and leaned over the stern. Brizen followed. A whiskered face stared up at them from the river.
“Skimmer?” Ferris felt a door open in the back of her heart. Sunlight streamed in. “Skimmer!”
The nokken answered with another jet of water.
The barge erupted. Brizen wanted to know how a nokken had come to Malmoret; King Brannis called for the guard. Avender shouldered his way forward to see the truth for himself, astonishment emptying his face.
Ferris went down on her hands and knees, no longer caring if she ruined her lovely dress, and leaned closer to Skimmer. The moonstones swung lightly at her neck.
“You’re alive!”
Skimmer did a little roll along the side of the barge. “I am. I had a real adventure, just like yours.”
“So Reiffen didn’t kill you?”
“Not me. Or Rollby either.”
Ferris’s heart swelled to bursting. “But that means...”
“He says that means you can marry him. At least that’s what he told me. So will you?”
“Will I? Of all the rotten, horrible tricks.” Ferris clutched the sides of her dress, not knowing whether to scream or cry. “If he thinks I’m going to—of course I’ll marry him.”
The king’s voice cut through Ferris’s elation like an axe. “Archers ready. At my command.”
Ferris scrambled to her feet. “Don’t shoot him! He’s not hurting you. He’s just a nokken!”
The Shaper growled at her side. Avender reached for his ceremonial sword.
The king’s face grew black, but he gave no further command. His soldiers lined the back of the barge, arrows bristling. Skimmer eyed them warily, then disappeared into the water like a snake. A few heartbeats later he resurfaced farther away, spitting another fountain in the air.
“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” demanded Durk.
Ignoring the stone, Ferris cupped her hands to her mouth in a most undignified manner and called, “Where’s Reiffen?”
“Waiting for you!” replied Skimmer across the water.
Ferris turned back to the king and prince. As happy as he had seemed before, Brizen now looked even more unhappy. Brannis tugged at his chin. Guilt pulled uncomfortably at Ferris, but not enough to make her even think about changing her mind. Again.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“So am I,” replied Brizen.
Avender opened a way for Giserre through the crowd of soldiers. Her piercing glance skipped from king, to bride, to groom, and back again. “What has happened?” she demanded.
“Skimmer’s alive. Didn’t you know?”
Understanding rose quickly in Giserre’s eyes. “No.”
“Do you love him?” asked Brizen before anyone else could say a word.
At first Ferris thought he meant Skimmer, but she knew that was wrong. Only Reiffen mattered now.
“Yes. I love him.”
The prince breathed deeply, trying to control his heart. Avender remained still as stone.
Hands clenched at his sides, Brizen spoke again. “Then you should marry him. I release you from your pledge. I have his kingdom. It is not right I take his love as well. Just do me one favor and marry him somewhere else, and not in front of me.”
Tears welled in Ferris’s eyes. Reaching in front of the king, she clasped the back of the prince’s hand. Briefly he let her touch him, then pulled his arm away as if burned.
“And you, Your Majesty?” Giserre faced the king. “My son has given you your kingdom, will you spare him the hand of a penniless girl from Valing?”
“The choice is hers,” said Brannis. “She knows that.”
Another call from Skimmer brought their attention back to the water. Only now he wasn’t alone. Behind him a catboat, its sail lowered, rested easily in the current.
“Are you coming?” cried the nokken.
“Yes, are you coming?” repeated Reiffen from the boat. Beside him the puppy, twice as large as before, barked eagerly, its paws on the gunwales.
The bowmen, having received no other command from their king, continued to aim their arrows at the water.
“Come closer so I can hop in,” answered Ferris.
“I can’t.” Reiffen waved for her to come to him. Ferris thought it odd his boat hadn’t blown closer in the breeze. “I’m not really here.”
“Then how am I supposed to get to you?”
Skimmer shot another long stream of water through the air. “Swim!” he cried.
“I can’t swim!” Ferris lifted the sides of her dress. “Look what I’m wearing! I’ll drown!”
“I’ll carry you!” Skimmer rolled in the water. He was as big as Longback now and could carry her easily no matter how heavily she was dressed.
Ferris kicked off her shoes.
“Oh, no,” exclaimed Hern. “You’ll ruin your dress.”
“The necklace will make it through,” said the bear.
Just as if she were back at Nokken Rock, Ferris dove off the barge. The water was clean and cold. The ballooning fabric of the dress stopped her from going very deep, and pockets of air in the petticoats soon brought her back to the surface, but even so she was in no position to swim. Something large and sleek rose beneath her. Clinging to Skimmer’s strong neck, she flew swiftly through the water.
Reiffen pulled her into his boat. The puppy licked her cheek. The moonstone necklace slid across her skin. Before she could say a word, Reiffen kissed her. She kissed him back but, before he was done, she pulled away and smacked him hard.
“What was that for?” he complained.
“For making me think you were a murderer. This would have been a lot easier if you didn’t insist on keeping so many secrets.”
“I had to be sure, before I could tell you Skimmer was alive. I hadn’t seen him since the day I left him and the pup in the White Pool after rescuing them from the gorge. For all I knew, they died in the rapids beyond and I really was a murderer.”
“But you’re not.” She kissed him again.
“No, I’m not.” He kissed her back.
Some time later she thought to look around. She had only just noticed the air was colder than it had been. The river was gone, replaced by a pond surrounded by thick trees. Many were evergreens, their dark coats glistening in the noonday sun. Unshipping the oars, Reiffen began rowing the boat toward a small cabin. Gray smoke wound from the chimney.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“In the Great Forest. Close under the backs of the High Bavadars.”
Skimmer leapt out of the water across their bows, then circled back to the boat. A pup popped up to the surface beside him. “Me and Rollby are hungry,” he said.
“Go catch some fish,” Reiffen answered.
“I thought we were having lunch with you?” The nokken’s whiskers twitched in disappointment.
“Not lunch, Skimmer.” Ferris hugged Reiffen tighter to keep from getting cold. “Maybe dinner, but not lunch.”
“Maybe not dinner, either,” grunted Reiffen as he pulled them faster toward the shore.
His thimbles clicked against the oars.