The Smoke Thieves (The Smoke Thieves #1)

Jane smiled at the result. “Very dignified, Your Highness.”

Tanya frowned, though. “It’s dignified, but I’ve seen some of the other guests arriving, Your Highness. They’re amazing. One lady has feathers in her hair that almost scrape the ceiling. I think one of the Pitorian dresses might be more in keeping.”

“Perhaps tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I’m more comfortable in this.”

But as soon as Catherine entered the hall she realized her mistake. Every woman, indeed every man, was dressed more extravagantly than she was. The women had their hair piled high on their heads, woven through with ribbons, pearls, flowers, feathers, and even bells. Not only were the hairstyles more elaborate and stylish, they added to the ladies’ height. Catherine was supremely conscious of her lack of it as she stood in the hall, unable to see above the shoulders of most of the guests. In the distance she spotted Noyes, staring at her as always. Thankfully Sir Rowland appeared at her side.

“Your Highness, apologies for keeping you waiting. Let me introduce you.”

And so it began. Small talk and false laughter during which Catherine was aware of being assessed and equally aware of how small and young she appeared, but mostly aware that she was irritated and tired. Eventually they were all guided to another room for the banquet, where Catherine was seated between Lord Farrow and Boris. Conversation was in short supply.

As the meal came to an end, Farrow made a brief and remarkably unwelcoming welcome speech dwelling on the bloodthirsty history of Brigant and the unexpected absence of Prince Tzsayn.

“And so we must accept that this small invasion of Brigantine troops is not here to conquer Pitoria,” Farrow concluded, “but to ensure that our two kingdoms will indeed be joined by marriage. It may be that the soldiers are necessary after all, as it seems that even the brave Prince Tzsayn quaked at the thought of his imminent wedlock.”

A low ripple of amusement passed round the table. Catherine was mortified. Boris looked furious. He was supposed to make a reply on Catherine’s behalf, but he didn’t stand, his jaw clenched with rage. Sir Rowland glanced at Catherine and began to rise, and Catherine knew she should allow him to smooth over the situation, but she was irritated—by Lord Farrow’s tactless humor and by the patronizing glances of the guests.

Before she had time to think, she was on her feet. People were talking, and while some stopped to look at her, many did not. She was determined that her voice would be firm and not wobbly, but as she looked at the sea of faces—all older, all wiser, mostly male, mostly from Pitoria—she felt like what she was: a sixteen-year-old foreign girl. Worst of all, she could feel Noyes’s eyes on her again. She immediately regretted standing, but it was too late now.

“It would be normal in Brigant for my brother, Prince Boris, to reply on my behalf. But I’m now entering a new country, a new life, and a new marriage—with the assistance of my brother’s troops, if necessary, though I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to that.” She paused as the audience laughed politely. “With these great changes to my life in prospect, it is time I spoke for myself. I am, of course, delighted to be in beautiful Pitoria, though sad at the parting from my parents and my beloved Brigant.”

Catherine looked around the room and could see that the guests were curious rather than interested. Was it just the spectacle of a woman standing and speaking for herself? But now Catherine couldn’t even do that—her mind had gone blank. A couple at the back leaned together and whispered. Catherine needed to hold their attention, get people on her side.

That was it, the way to win them round—the people.

“I am come to you as a young woman, a woman of just sixteen years. And I also come as a princess, the daughter of King Aloysius of Brigant.” And now she was surprised to realize that she spoke with true pride. “But I have the honor of marrying your prince, and I have today had the pleasure of seeing the kingdom of Pitoria for the first time, and it is truly a beautiful place. But a kingdom is more than a land and a king. Imagine a country as beautiful as Pitoria yet empty of all people. Put a man in this country. Now call that man king. Still this land is nothing special. There is no kingdom, merely a land and a man called a king. But now fill that land with people who love their country and their king, and you have a true kingdom. I understand that the people of Pitoria love their king, and also love Prince Tzsayn. I have seen a few of these people on my journey here today, and I intend to meet as many more as I can. Pitoria is my new home. The Pitorians are my new people. I left Brigant as a child of that country, but I continue on my journey as a Pitorian who loves her new country. I look forward to my life here. So my toast is to Pitoria and to all its people.”

Catherine raised her glass. There was a moment’s silence, and then, at the far end of the table, a man stood, and then another, and another, until the guests were all standing to drink the toast and applause rang through the room.

Catherine sat and Boris turned to her. “A pretty speech, sister. Though I don’t remember suggesting you make it.”

“I thought of it all by myself,” replied Catherine lightly. “And do stop scowling, brother. There seems to be an element of hostility in Pitoria—in this room even—to my marriage. My words will do more than your frowns to ensure these people warm to me. We wouldn’t want anything to prevent the wedding, would we?”

With a tight smile, Boris got up and left. As he swept out, Sir Rowland came to Catherine to escort her to the hall for the dancing.

“My compliments on your speech, Your Highness.”

“Boris was not so pleased with my words.”

“I suspect he’s less pleased with Lord Farrow’s. Boris is a soldier, Your Highness, and Lord Farrow is no diplomat.”

“While you are definitely the latter, Sir Rowland. My mother mentioned you to me. She said I could rely on you.”

Sir Rowland hesitated for the first time. “I had the honor of spending time at court in Brigant while the king was absent during the war with Calidor. I met Her Majesty the Queen then. She would be proud of you today.”

A friendship at court! The ambassador must truly be a careful operator, Catherine mused. Had anyone suspected any impropriety between him and her mother, Sir Rowland wouldn’t have such a good position now. Had her father suspected, Sir Rowland wouldn’t have his head.

“Regarding my speech, I would like to improve on it next time. I’d appreciate your advice.”

“Certainly, Your Highness. That would be an honor.”

“Good. In the morning then. Is there a quiet place we can meet?”

“The library is a lovely room. I’m sure it will be quiet before breakfast.”

“Perfect.”

“But now, I’m afraid, there’s more work to be done here. Many people are keen to be introduced to you. May I escort you?”

“Please do, Sir Rowland.”



* * *





Much, much later Catherine fell into bed, exhausted, but she realized she was smiling. She felt that she’d achieved something. She’d stood up to Boris, made a speech, and won her audience’s applause. And she’d done it all wearing the wrong dress.

Tomorrow the latter would be corrected.





AMBROSE


NORWEND, NORTHERN BRIGANT



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