


Rinnie had assumed the post of over two years ago…
In clear blue eyes there was fear, panic as she stared at the letter as if it contained the very mystery of existence, as if it held all possible answers – why the sky was blue, the grass green. And it did, she knew it did: it would answer whether she would marry and go overseas or not, if she could see Nikalas and live at the Kalagat or stay her at Hastavat and go nowhere at all. Her whole future was in that letter, and she thought she might faint.






The summons from the Kalagat came in the middle of a morning, sun peeking from behind clouds, but much like an owl seeking out her prey in complete darkness, so Lady Arianna Isina swooped down onto the unfortunate messenger.
Now, needles poised in hand, they looked at each other every bit as incredulously as earlier. Hastavat Castle, it had seemed, was at the very end of the world – but that was before the messengers, three physician tasked with examining the health of Her Imperial Highness and a painter commissioned to paint her in the best possible light.
“Rinnie!” shrieked the elder of the two, recovering first.
Isabal leaned forward only slightly, but hands clutching the arms of her chair where white, knuckles strained.
With a sharp, authoritative voice she commanded Her Imperial Highness to settle down, told both girls there would have to be silence for her to ever read the letter, and that in the meantime they should return to their needlework if they did not wish to continue embroidering until supper.
They complied, Isabal with silent resignation and a sullen look from Anat, hiding a flicker of something other than defiance of a ten year old child ordered to do something she would rather not.
In clear blue eyes there was fear, panic as she stared at the letter as if it contained the very mystery of existence, as if it held all possible answers – why the sky was blue, the grass green. And it did, she knew it did: it would answer whether she would marry and go overseas or not, if she could see Nikalas and live at the Kalagat or stay her at Hastavat and go nowhere at all. Her whole future was in that letter, and she thought she might faint.
“What if it says – what if it says …” Her voice broke. “… that I can’t – cannot go…” She grabbed Isabel’s hand and held on so strongly that the latter winced in pain.





The summons from the Kalagat came in the middle of the morning, sun peeking from behind clouds, but much like an owl seeking out her prey in complete darkness, so Lady Arianna Isina swooped down onto the unfortunate messenger.
She took in every detail of his unsatisfactory appearance – dusty apparel, more than a whiff of horse and human sweat. With a haughty raise of an eyebrow she acknowledged his stammering explanation that the letter was to be delivered to her hands, and hers only; then she sent him on his way. Only when he left did she fall limply to her armchair, one hand clutching the missive with a drowning man’s last grip, the other pressed against her forehead.
Another such messenger had arrived barely a fortnight ago, stating that Her Imperial Highness was to learn to speak Meriadossan, write Meriadossan and dance Meriadossan dances: that she would marry a Meriadossan prince.
but that was before the messengers, three physicians tasked with examining the health of Her Imperial Highness and a painter commissioned to paint her in the best possible light.
Looking up from a messy array of lopsided stitching, Her Imperial Highness Anat Halan Palealias pushed it off her lap, scrambled to her feet and attempted to pry the letter from her governess’s hands.
Is it the Kalagat? It’s the Kalagat, isn’t it?
Isabal leaned forward only slightly, but hands clutching the arms of her chair were white.
A stricken expression continued to paint Rinnie’s face
With a sharp, authoritative voice she commanded Her Imperial Highness to settle down, told both girls there would have to be silence for her to ever read the letter, and that in the meantime they should return to their needlework if they did not wish to continue embroidering until supper.
In clear blue eyes there was fear, panic as she stared at the letter as if it contained the very mystery of existence, as if it held all possible answers – why the sky was blue, the grass green.
Her whole future was in that letter, and she thought she might faint.
“What if it says – what if it says …” Her voice broke. “… that I can’t – cannot go…” She grabbed Isabal’s hand and held on so strongly that the latter winced in pain. Without thinking Anat mirrored her governess, raising the other to her forehead – little shimmering droplets of sweat appeared on her skin, and blood rushed to her cheeks. “I’ll die, Rinnie, surely I’ll die!”
The governess looked into starved eyes, hungry eyes, desperately seeking any for the slightest sign that she was wanted at her father’s court.
before she had been moved to Hastavat Castle suddenly and abruptly
Two years, two years of walking through the gallery times counted in hundreds.
So many months of gazing at portraits, never touching, living on memories and then dreams when those first began to slip away.
And then Rinnie looked at her eight year old daughter, who was old enough to understand her situation and understand what summons to the Kalagat would mean – that she, Isabal, would have to stay at Hastavat Castle while her mother went with Her Imperial Highness. Two little girls, each wishing, praying for something completely different with all their heart: one letter.
“His Imperial Majesty, may he live forever, wishes for his daughter to attend him in a month’s time.”
“Will Nikalas be there, Rinnie, do you think?”
. Her next words were spoken in a rush; when left breathless, she sucked in air audibly and continued as rapidly as she began. “How long shall we stay? Did His Imperial Majesty, may he live forever and ever - did he really say that he wishes for me to attend him? Did he say he wants to see me, really? Did he write the letter? Should I write back? Oh Rinnie!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Rinnie saw her daughter flinch as if struck, crumpling within herself.
“The letter was not written by His Imperial Majesty’s hand, may he live forever-”
She looked at Isabal, whose hand she was still holding, and let go.
“One daughter?” Isabal asked calmly when Anat left. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap, and she did not move when her mother hugged her. Their tears mixed together, cheek against cheek, and Rinnie nodded with a heavy heart.


The summons from the Kalagat came in the middle of the morning, sun peeking from behind clouds, but much like an owl seeking out her prey in complete darkness, so Lady Arianna Isina swooped down onto the unfortunate messenger.
With a sharp, authoritative voice she commanded Her Imperial Highness to settle down, told both girls there would have to be silence for her to ever read the letter, and that in the meantime they should return to their needlework if they did not wish to continue embroidering until supper.
and live at the Kalagat or stay her at Hastavat

Over the next month, arrangements for the move to the Kalagat were being made.
Servants scurried to and fro, packing and repacking in the final stages
, and in the meantime Her Imperial Highness went from one extreme to the other: laughing out in sheer joy, then bursting into tears, saying she won’t be allowed to go anywhere again, like last time, and the time before that.
Dipping into the more miserable moods she would hide in her chambers and refuse to go out for hours at a time, rejecting food and wailing and crying that she wasn’t as smart as Isabal, or as beautiful, and that the Emperor, may he live forever and ever, will not like or love her, and that surely she would be sent back to Hastavat Castle
She would respond neither to Rinnie’s soothing or Isabal’s unusually decisive counterarguments
only to suddenly leave her rooms with an off-key song on her lips, laughing at nothing at all.
Anat would then plunge into a joyous mood, chattering constantly, telling everyone who would listen – housemaids, the horsemaster, Rinnie, Cook – that she would be dancing before His Imperial Majesty and the Meriadosssan ambassador; that she would meet her brother, who looked like Nav the stable boy, but who was, of course, His Imperial Highness, not a stable boy.
for liquid gold impossible to remain at odds with
no matter what she mischief she might have been up to
much to Anat’s distress had clearly ceased doing so to Lady Arianna Isina.
and with owls hooting about
. Even her marriage prospects, a distant Meriadossan prince, was reduced to just that – distant, then absent after the initial excitement.
in a last desperate attempt Anat had been given a diary, which promptly disappeared and was not to be seen again.
. But end them Anat would, whether it be by sending Rinnie into vapors with her sullenness or sweet-talk her into postponing whatever they were to do, leaving herself free in pursuit of more leisurely activities, such as painting or music-making, or, as was often the case, begging a few more dancing lessons from Master Nevis.
“Charmed, charmed by you will be all, charmed, Highness my Imperial!” the small Meriadossan man would declare on numerous occasions, corpulent and fleshy but graceful as a swan when accompanied by music.
in so stunning a court,
But not wanting to hurt his feelings she nodded again and laughed, listening to more stories of glittering balls, beautiful ladies and full of gallantry gentlemen.
Nevis succeeded where Rinnie had failed so miserably: he taught Anat Meriadossan if not Imperial history, details snuck in through tales of fantastic battles and dashing princes.
She had also fled from Priest, a boring old man who in a quivering voice continuously warned her of Meriadossan heretics.
abduction of power
by a mere dance master, a foreigner at that, but in raptures that Anat was learning something, anything at all. “
West Marchia is the greatest and unruliest of Meriadossan provinces,
And Master Nevis would, spinning his stories of the magnificent Meriadossa, its ripe citrus fruits growing in beautiful orchards, a land always under the shining sun.
So ensued war none less epic than the ones woven by history itself, watched by Anat with wide, awe-filled eyes and slightly parted lips, until scolded by Rinnie for such unladylike behavior between the governess’s icy orations to the dance master. Threats of expulsion from Hastavat Castle sounded on both sides, a high-pitched, shrill female voice battling crippled Imperial. But then letters were produced, and Rinnie’s hawkish features reddened and then paled at the magic of the Emperor’s signature alongside words that cast in stone her defeat: “… chosen by Meriadossan ambassador… full support… to teach Her Imperial Highness Anat Halan..”.
She looked imploringly at Rinnie, seeing her incensed expression, pursed white lips, not wanting the governess to interrupt.
But Rinnie had been defeated utterly and completely, it seemed.
Only Lady Arianna Isina regarded feigned tears with cold contempt, but kept her silence as the lines on her forehead deepened.
he paused theatrically once more, and Anat squirmed in her seat, biting her lips to blood in anxiousness, eyes wide and breath held,
“There will be no more dancing lessons.”
until at last one crisp morning found its inhabitants out on the stone courtyard.
There was much crying and weeping on behalf of both those departing and staying; only Isabal looked down upon the scene from her bedroom window, having refused to say farewell. Her mother’s face was impassive – she ushered Her Imperial Highness away from the carriage that was to carry their luggage to the passenger one.
Anat’s small face peeked out behind the curtain before retreating back into the carriage’s murky depths when the last stones of Hastavat Castle disappeared from view. She wept violently, caught between sorrow and the thrill of adventure, perhaps feeling instinctively that this was the last time she had seen Hastavat or Isabal, or any other of its inhabitants.


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