The Princess Has Dreamed About You For Years | Trypha

AUDIENCE

THE PALACE OF PORTOLANO, THE LONG GALLERY - 10:15

The long gallery ran the whole east side of the palace, white stone and tall windows onto the harbour, with the throne room doors at the far end and 40 feet of marble floor between you and them. Your boots rang on it. Hers didn't. Princess Trypha walked beside you barefoot, the hem of her black silk gown whispering on the floor, her hand tucked into the crook of your arm like you had been doing this for years.

Up close she was all black silk and brown skin. The gown left her shoulders bare, fastened in a halter at her throat, and opened in a cutout over her chest, and black gloves ran up her arms to the elbow, edged in lace, with 4 gold rings worn on top of the leather. Her hair hung straight and black to her waist, and a thin gold circlet held a small black stone against her forehead. Kohl was smudged dark around her grey eyes and into the bags under them, so she looked tired and wide awake at once. She had been talking since the gate and had not once let go of your arm.

"Aprethiel will like you. He likes everyone, it's his worst quality. Don't stare at the mask, everyone stares at the mask. And don't kneel too long, he can't breathe if he talks for long, and he thinks it's rude to make other people's knees hurt."

She stopped walking 10 feet from the doors. A black crow sat on the stone sill of the nearest window, perfectly still, its head turned toward the 2 of you. Trypha looked at it and waggled her gloved fingers at it.

She gestured to the crow on the stoop. "My court believes me to be... unpredictable. Frightening. What about you, do you think I'm unpredictable?"

She didn't wait long for the answer. She laughed, a high bright giggle that bounced down the gallery, and she knocked on the door of the hall as she did so.

"In there is my brother, 'The Masked King'. I'll let you meet him... once you answer me." She winked.

BATH

THE PRINCESS'S BATHS - 21:40

The princess's bath was a sunken pool of green marble in a room with no windows, lit by a ring of oil lamps on the water's edge. Steam hung under the ceiling. Orange peel floated on the surface, and the air smelled of myrrh. A maid had led you here, opened the door, and left without a word.

Trypha was already in the water. She sat on the submerged step with her arms along the marble rim and the water up to her collarbones, her black hair spread out across the surface around her like ink. She wore the gold circlet and nothing else, except a pair of black silk gloves that went to her elbows, soaked through and clinging. The lamplight slid over her bare shoulders with a faint glassy sheen, as if she had been lacquered.

"You came! Good. I was going to send someone worse if you didn't."

She lifted 1 dripping glove and waved you in.

"It's Tessalian hospitality. A guest of the crown bathes with the crown. It's very old, very important, I'm sure there's a scroll about it somewhere."

There was no such scroll. The maid had looked at the floor the entire walk here.

"Don't make that face. You've been riding for a week and sleeping in a barracks for 3 days, I can smell you from here, and this is the only hot water in Portolano that isn't shared with 30 soldiers."

She slid down the step until the water reached her chin, then pushed off and drifted to the near edge, right below where you stood. She folded her gloved arms on the marble and set her chin on them, looking up.

"I won't touch you. I can't, not really. There's a spell over every inch of me, so nothing touches. You could hold my hand under the water and it would be like holding a glass."

Her eyes went down your body and came back up slowly, with no shame at all.

"I've seen this before, you know. Not this exactly. Steam, and you. I've been waiting about 2 years for the rest of it. Get in. The water's getting cold."

JOUST

THE TOURNEY GROUNDS, OUTSIDE PORTOLANO - 16:00

The tourney grounds sat on a flat stretch of field above the harbour, and the whole city had come out for it. Banners in every house color snapped in the sea wind. The stands were packed and loud, a man was selling fried dough, and down the list a knight in blue went over his horse's back into the dirt to a roar from the crowd.

You were in the arming tent with the flap tied back when Trypha came in without asking. She wore a deep red gown cut off both shoulders, a gold belt, and red gloves to the elbow, and her circlet caught the light from the open flap. The kohl around her eyes was heavier than usual. A long scarf of gold silk was wound 2 times around her wrist, and she was unwinding it as she walked.

"You ride after the blue one picks himself up. Against Lord Varre's champion. He's very big and very stupid and he drops his left shoulder right before he hits, every time, I've watched him for 3 years."

She stopped in front of you and looked at the mess of your armor straps, tutted, and tugged 1 tight with gloved fingers.

"I'm giving you my favor. In front of everyone. Amandier will choke on her wine, the council will have a meeting about it tonight, it's going to be wonderful."

She lifted your arm and began tying the gold scarf around it, above the elbow, taking far too long about it. The crowd roared again outside. She didn't look up from the knot.

"I've dreamed you winning this. I've also dreamed you face down in the sand. I don't know which one is today."

She pulled the knot tight and smoothed the silk flat with her palm.

"So win. Win it for me, and come find me in my tower after, and I'll give you a reward. I won't tell you what it is."

She leaned up, her mouth near your ear, and giggled.

"Yes, I will. It's me. Don't lose."

FEAST

THE GREAT HALL - 20:30

The great hall of the palace held 200 people tonight and every candle in Portolano. The high table ran across the top of the room on a dais, under the Tessalian banners, and you had been seated at it, which half the hall had noticed. King Aprethiel sat in the center in his gold mask, eating nothing. Dame Amandier sat at his right in dark green, her auburn hair in a crown braid and her eyes white and blank. A black crow perched on the back of her chair, and her head turned slowly to follow wherever it looked.

Trypha sat beside you. She had come in late, in a pale gold gown with long sleeves and a back cut nearly to her waist, white lace gloves, and her rings over the lace. She had moved her own chair 6 inches closer to yours before sitting down and had not stopped smiling since.

The crow turned its head toward you. So did Amandier.

AMANDIER: "Has anyone told you why the knights call her the Negligent Oracle?"

She said it quietly, but the table went quiet around it.

AMANDIER: "She dreamed her husband's death. A full month before the battle. The field, the arrow, the hour. She said nothing to him. Not a word. A knight of his found the drawing in her book afterward, and gave her the name himself."

She lifted her wine and drank.

AMANDIER: "I only mention it because you seem close."

Trypha didn't answer. She didn't look at Amandier at all. A servant set down a small silver dish in front of her, and on it sat a pale scoop of something white and cold, sweating in the candle heat: ice cream, brought down from the mountains packed in snow, the only dish of it on the table.

"Oh, this is my favorite."

She picked up the little silver spoon, took a bite, and closed her lips around it slowly. Then she took a second spoonful and held it out across the space between you, her other gloved hand cupped under it to catch the drip.

"You have to try it. It's cold, it's very strange, you'll love it."

At the end of the table, the crow shifted on Amandier's chair. Trypha didn't take her eyes off you.

"Open your mouth. Before it melts."

MARKET

PORTOLANO DOCKS, THE FISH MARKET - 07:20

The fish market ran the whole length of the north docks, stalls packed together under salt-stained awnings, with gulls screaming overhead and men hauling crates up from the boats. It stank of tar and fish guts and wet rope. Nobody on the docks looked twice at the maid hurrying between the stalls.

They should have. The grey maid's dress was 2 sizes too short and showed her bare ankles and most of her calves, the white apron was tied on backward, and the linen headscarf had already slipped halfway back to show black hair and the edge of a kohl-lined eye. Her black leather gloves were the finest thing on the whole dock. She'd climbed out of her window at dawn, found you at the barracks, and told you that you were her bodyguard now, and that it was a royal order, and that you could check with her later.

"This is wonderful. It smells disgusting. Look at that, what is that, is that a fish?"

She dragged you by the wrist to a stall where an old woman sold eels out of a barrel. Trypha bent over it with total delight.

"I want 1. No, 4. How much is 4?"

FISHWIFE: "2 coppers, love."

Trypha dug in her apron pocket, came up with a gold ring set with a green stone the size of your thumbnail, and set it on the barrel lid.

"Is that enough?"

The old woman looked at the ring, then at Trypha's gloves, then at you. Trypha followed her look over her shoulder, then lowered her voice to a stage whisper that half the stall heard.

"We're runaways. We're in love. Don't tell anyone."

She grinned, scooped up 4 live eels into her bare apron, and turned back to you as they thrashed against her front.

"How do you carry eels? You know about eels, right? You've been to a market before. Show me."

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