It was simpler than he thought it would be, adapting to life in Cassloch’s capital.
Riordan learned where to find almost everything he needed within a few weeks, and had even mastered the art of riding his horse through the streets without knocking down the city folk who preferred to walk on foot. By the time autumn began to linger on the horizon, he knew Brython’s streets as if he’d grown up on them, instead of the grain-filled plains of Summerfield.
He’d even discovered the best places in the castle to hide when the Master of Ceremonies was overcome with one of his sadistic desires to see every squire in the vicinity dressed up like courtly mannequins and set up to suffer the King’s court on civil hearing days.
Unfortunately, this time, it was the Queen who captured him and forced him into line at court. She had a particular yet silent way of scolding him that left him feeling just as guilty as his own mother when she caught him filching fresh tarts off the baker’s tray.
But everything since leaving Summerfield was a learning experience. Today he’d learned that, after spending five hours standing completely still listening to petty complaints from the people about chickens and missing bread loaves, he could doze with his eyes open and not fall too far out of line.
Prince Aoden appeared just as the Master of Ceremonies began walking down the line of squires with a sewing needle, meant to prick each one of them on the shoulder to test if they were awake. The Prince flashed the elderly man one of his wily blue-eyed grins and towed his personal squire out of the hall, pausing only to bow respectfully to his mother on the throne. She was quietly hurrying King Tavish along in his duties, reminding him every few cases of some engagement elsewhere behind her gilded lace fan.
Queen Shona eyed her son with a raised brow, then made a small shoo motion of her hand tucked into a draping embroidered sleeve. The Queen was infamously critical of anyone not following protocol. That she said nothing of Aoden leaving a conspicuous gap in the line of attendants left his jaw hanging.
Aoden straightened up as soon as they were in the hallway with the door closed. “Still awake?”
Riordan glanced over his shoulder. “The Queen is going to have a fit.”
The Prince shook his head. “Not today. She’s trying to get Father to hurry up. She wants him with her when they pick which gift they’re giving Sileas tomorrow. Has them all lined up in the dining hall at the moment.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait until they make her put on that absurd dress to greet their emissaries tomorrow. Or see how she gets rid of their son.”
Mention of the Princess caused his heart to skip a few beats. He didn’t realize her birthday was so close. “Oh.”
Aoden’s grin was puckish, the same one he wore when challenging Prince Malcom of Parlan to drinking contests the previous winter. “Do you know of my aunt Gavina?”
He nodded, hoping his face wasn’t too red. “Father said she abdicated the throne to King Tavish to marry a sky pirate.” He decided against repeating the rest of what his father tended to say about the King’s absent sister. Knowing his Prince, Aoden heard most of it in and around the taverns he tended to lurk in while disguise.
A bit of indignation slipped into the Prince’s demeanor, as if insulted by the statement. He shook his head. “Regardless, she’s sent the strangest gift to Sileas for her sixteenth birthday. You really must see it.”
Riordan frowned and glanced eastward. “I haven’t seen an airship at the landing since we returned from the Marks. Isn’t this their off season?”
“Didn’t come by airship.” Aoden’s puckish grin returned. “If you’re curious, it’s in the aviary with Falconer Grayson.”
He continued to frown. “The Lady Gavina sent a bird as a gift?”
The Prince set both hands on his shoulders and wheeled him around in the direction of the aviary. “I must insist you assess what has been sent to my sister, squire. And let me know your thoughts on its utility. On the morrow.”
He felt his face flush as Aoden’s unsubtle hint smacked him across it. “Of course, my Prince.”
“We’ll have to work on your comprehension of subtext later, Riordan. Can’t have my future general be completely inept at subterfuge.”
The insinuation rankled his nerves. “My subtext comprehension is just fine, thank you.”
“Oh?” Aoden straightened his cuffs as he headed off in the opposite direction. “There’s only so long my latest distraction of Nan can last, you know. She’s just old, not blind.”
Before good sense could reassert itself, Riordan bolted down the hallway, bound for the castle tower that housed all of the King’s messenger birds.