Chapter Two:
The Winds of Change

 

 

 

 

Evening found Adrina in the East wing of the palace. She had been wandering its quiet halls for the last few hours. Hunger had roused her to conscious concerns. She still hadn’t changed into a dinner gown and the evening meal was less than an hour away. She would have to hurry to meet it, and this she did with urgency. She didn’t want to be late, especially after avoiding her duties all day.

 

Her chambers were on the upper level of the West wing and while Adrina could have gone down two flights of stairs to the ground level and crossed the gardens to the West wing, she decided to use the private royal access ways. Although this route was longer because she had to go through the North wing, she wouldn’t have to go up or down any stairs. And she didn’t want to stumble into Lady Isador before she changed into her gown—she didn’t want to stumble into Lady Isador at all, especially after avoiding her duties all day.

 

Adrina ran full stride down dark corridors that she knew so well she could have closed her eyes and ran along. There was no fear of bumping into anyone, no one but her used them now, and she knew well ahead of time their every turn by the count of her strides. She turned a sharp corner and knew she was entering the North wing. A mostly straight stretch of hallway was ahead and then another sharp turn—the West wing.

 

She slowed her gait to catch her breath; the line of light ahead was from the door to her chambers. She stopped outside the door and peeked in. Inside, attendants were waiting to help her with her gown but she didn’t see or hear Lady Isador. She paused a moment more to ensure the governess wasn’t waiting somewhere out of eyesight, then entered.

 

The attendants fussed over her hair for a time and helped her put on the gown, but Adrina knew she couldn’t wait for them to finish properly. She rushed out of her room even just as they fully secured the ties of the gown around her waist and neck.

 

She raced so fast down the broad central staircase that she nearly ran down the captain of the guard. She stumbled through a curtsy, and then rushed away.

 

In the great hall, Andrew, her father, was seated on his kingly chair with its high raised back and stout, straight arms in the true fashion of his office. Catching the gleam in his eye as he looked upon her, Adrina sighed then sat. An attendant pushed her seat forward, and she nodded in response. She was not late, though only barely so.

 

“Good evening, father,” Adrina said, while trying to hide the sudden smile that came to her lips. “I trust I am not late?”

 

King Andrew swept his gaze around the enormous oblong table to the faces of the honored guests. “Only so, dear Adrina. Only so.”

 

Adrina looked to the stone figurehead that was Chancellor Yi. He stood rigidly behind her father in his rightful place as the king’s principal adviser. The old chancellor did not move as he stood there, nor did he ever unless summoned. This was a strange thing since otherwise he was plagued with a habitual cold. A cold complete with runny nose, continuous sniffles and sneezing. A cold that he could turn off and on at will. To Adrina it was a warning sign of the deadening effect of the dreary, gray castle upon the senses, numbing everything away, leaving only the dead and the dying.

 

She would watch him while she ate, as she often did, searching for that small, scarcely perceivable shift of muscle or limb that told her he was still alive and not quite dead like some of the courtiers who dined with them and might just as well have been made of the cold stones of the gray wall behind her—they cared just about as much.

 

Her stomach rumbled. Adrina looked to the attendants waiting to ferry food to the tables, knowing that the prayer would come first and waiting for Father Tenuus to rise to his feet and clear his throat.

 

Father Tenuus was the  only member of the priesthood that lived in the palace. Others of the priesthood, like Father Jacob, first priest of Great-Father, had chambers tucked away in the East wing of the palace this was true, but mild times mandated a breaking with old traditions. Now only Father Tenuus remained. The others had long ago abandoned Imtal Palace.

 

When the aged priest, given to habitual forgetfulness nearly to the point of annoyance, finally began the invocation, Adrina said her own silent prayer. She hoped he’d finish in record time. Her stomach rumbled again. She was hungry, very hungry.

 

Adrina’s eyes wandered to the aged priest as he spoke. Long ago, she had stopped listening to the words he spoke, and so she figured it wasn’t necessary to bow her head or close her eyes either. She told herself she would relish the day when he passed on, and then she cursed herself for thinking it. It had been Father Tenuus who had placed the crown on her father’s head on coronation day. Father Tenuus who had joined her mother and father, Alexandria and Andrew, queen and king, in matrimony. And Father Tenuus who had brought her into the world.

 

Adrina sighed. The prayer seemed finally over. She watched attendants descend upon the tables carrying plates overloaded with fresh baked breads, platters with golden brown game hens, decanters of wine and an array of steaming dishes carrying wonderful aromas. Her mouth watered. Yet, just when everyone thought Father Tenuus would say “amen,” he began to speak again.

 

Adrina tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear and scowled. She looked around the table. Her father, apparently midway through a smile, frowned, yet made no comment. He never did.

 

When Father Tenuus finally did finish, it was a mad dash to get food to the tables while it was still somewhat warm. Adrina watched in earnest as she was served. The rather pale looking man to her right, clothed in a purple velvet overcoat and blue silken shirt, turned a whiter shade of white as he raised a handkerchief to his puffy red nose. He was pretending to be aloof but Adrina knew inside he was probably seething because she was ignoring him.

 

King Andrew smiled as Adrina began eating without waiting for his approval. Adrina knew he liked her independent nature, for he had fostered this especially in her. Yet she also knew a great deal could be hidden in a simple smile. Its uneasy weight made her cringe and turn away from her father’s gaze. Her independence was exactly what she and Lady Isador, her maternal nanny—governess—had discussed in length just the previous Seventhday.

 

“His Majesty is getting along in years, as am I, young Adrina,” Lady Isador had told her in her frank, motherly way. “Some day you will be alone. His Majesty favors finding you a suitable mate in the near future. Already several prospective suitors have been made aware that you will soon be of courting age. His Majesty has charged me with preparing you to begin courtship. Yet, it is well known—” And this is the part that made Adrina cringe then and now, for Lady Isador had come to tears. “—that you are not a courtly lady. I am afraid I have failed miserably in my duties as your governess. I asked to be dismissed, but His Majesty wouldn’t hear of it. ‘She is strong willed, strong minded, not easily pleased, and quick to anger, which is perhaps my own fault,’ His Majesty told me. Young Adrina, I gasped at the hearing, His Majesty is never wrong nor at fault. ‘Lady Isador,’ His Majesty went on to tell me, ‘you have a lot of work to do if you are to retire at summer’s end.’ I agreed with him on that point.

 

“South Province is calling me home young Adrina. Only Great-Father and Mother-Earth could keep me from it. I long to see my father’s house, walk amongst the great white birch trees that line the yard, and smell strong southerly breezes. Breezes that make you want to curl your toes up and walk through tall midsummer grass…”

 

A smile did come to Adrina’s lips then, and she turned to look back at her father-king. There was a faraway look in the monarch’s eyes and Adrina could only wonder as to his thoughts. Surely, he was considering the progress of the search. She had heard that not a single one of the upper lords had responded. She wagered that presently he was considering which nobles of the middle and lower houses had suitable sons.

 

Momentary delight came to her eyes as Chancellor Yi seemed to twitch—King Andrew had nodded ever so slightly to get his attention. No doubt having mentally completed the list, he was whispering a notation in the chancellor’s time-bent ear.

 

Adrina played with the bit of honey-glazed hen that remained on her plate. No longer hungry, she probably could have pushed the mostly empty plate away, but soon afterwards one of the dreadful courtiers would have undoubtedly moved in and she would have been locked into a meaningless conversation. No, she thought, let them think she was interested only in eating.

 

When Captain Brodst, the man Adrina had nearly collided with earlier, entered and approached the king’s table, Adrina’s heart raced—even the captain of the guard did not interrupt the evening meal without justification. Adrina tried to listen in but could only hear some of what was being said.

 

“—it is urgent, Your Majesty,” Captain Brodst said, “a messenger has arrived this hour from the South.”

 

King Andrew furrowed his brow. “I gather the news is more than urgent?” Captain Brodst nodded. “I see, have council chambers prepared. I will be along presently.”

 

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” said Captain Brodst, kneeling appropriately, preparing to make his exit.