Post by Threnn on Jan 28, 2007 23:13:31 GMT -5
What Karris wanted at that moment, more than anything, was to hide.
His parents were coming.
The next three days would consist of long, uncomfortable silences broken by awkward attempts at conversation. This was how they had spent their time together for the last six years. Before that he was too small to remember their visits - most likely, he had toddled around and babbled at them, nonsense words and coos. Or maybe he had wailed at the strangers picking him up and demanding his attention. He never thought to ask; it seemed rude.
For now, he would retreat to his rooms until another acolyte came to fetch him. He had much studying to do, and didn't want to fall behind. All the acolytes who had families coming were excused from classes for the next few days, but those with no visitors who would be expected to continue their studies. Karris secretly envied them. He could lose himself in histories and thick, dusty tomes for hours on end. While other children his age spent their playtime running races and making up elaborate games, he preferred to find a spot in the sun where he could lounge with his newest book.
Now, the halls of the temple were unusually silent. The others must be in their rooms preparing - bathing, putting on their best clothes, memorizing lines to recite...
...practicing their magic.
His parents, like the parents of all the other children he knew, had been handsomely rewarded for his lucky birth. They had gone from barely scraping by to having three employees in their shop. He'd heard the story of his birth the last time they visited - in fact, they retold it _every_ time he saw them, never seeming to tire of the tale. Or, perhaps, the were reminding him from whence he came.
The soft patter of his bare feet echoed along the hall as he trudged to his rooms. Great arched ceilings soared above him, their apexes lost in darkness that candles and lamps could not reach. He wondered why no one had ever asked a Hallowed One to light a fire up near the top and leave it to burn forever. Stained glass windows lined one side of the corridor, filtering in late morning light. His skin turned crimson and blue and gold as he passed beneath them, colored by the robes and visages of gods and royals.
Karris considered the frozen faces looking down on him. Some of them were Hallowed, some normal, some divine. Only gods and goddesses held their hands out in blessing; the rest sat or stood with their hands folded in contemplation. He could see no differences between the Hallowed and the mundane, but he had memorized the names of those who were like him. _Maybe I'll be painted someday. Maybe they'll carve a window just for me._
He played a game as he climbed a long stone staircase, on each step whispering the name of a king or queen, starting with King Rison and working backwards. The list went back hundreds of years before he reached the top. Prince Dase the Healer used to pace up and down these very stairs when he was an acolyte, memorizing his history, composing poems, easing a troubled mind. Karris had no desire to spend all his time on the stairs, the way Dase must have if the stories were true, but he liked the soft echo of his voice in the empty air, the quiet rhythm of names stretching back through ages. He placed his feet in grooves well-worn by hundreds of years of students' feet, and imagined that his footsteps filled Dase's own.
The morning sun had warmed his rooms nicely. Karris' quarters were in a tower on the eastern side of the temple, and many times he would awaken with the dawn, to watch the sun as it rose above the city. From his window, he could witness the light creeping along the streets and up the sides of the palace. The palace sat in the middle of the city, its little buildings and courtyards sprawling over a square mile. The main building, right in the center, took up more than half of that. As the sun rose higher, the white washed walls caught the color of the clouds for a while, then gleamed as the sky turned blue. Painters all over the country had tried capturing it, but none of the pictures he had seen quite expressed the awe he felt; maybe it was because none of them had ever seen it from this height.
He passed through the antechamber filled with soft cushions and chairs and into the bedroom. The maids had been by. Karris always felt a little guilty leaving his things to be tidied up by someone else, but then again, he never made much of a mess. Neatness was second nature to him. The papers and books atop his writing desk were neatly stacked, not a single stray page sticking out. His bottles of ink and several quills lined up in a razor straight edge along the top. Even the chair had been pushed in.
The study he intended this morning, however, would not take place at the cozy little desk. For just a moment, he wriggled his toes in the patch of sunlight warming his shaggy rug, then he controlled his flop onto the bed, barely even messing up the blankets. He nestled into the pillows, closing his eyes and letting the silence of the morning surround him.
To become a healer, the teachers said, you must first control your body inside and out. He concentrated on his breathing first. In and out, hold and release. Soon his respiration could be barely detected. Someday, he'd be able to stop it for minutes at a time, maybe even hours. For now, though, the rise and fall was so slow as to be imperceptible. Next, his temperature. He thought of winter and snow and ice, of laying on the cold ground and being covered by icy white flakes, of cutting a hole in the ice and swimming in a frozen pond.
The bedsheets lost all their warmth.
Now for his heart. Karris was good at speeding it up, or evening it out, but slowing it down had so far eluded him. He wouldn't begin learning to control his muscles until he could change his heart rate at will. He imagined a galloping horse, racing across a grass covered plain, and he was the rider giving it commands. He brought the horse down to a canter, then, after a few minutes, a trot. He was readying himself to slow it to a walk when he became distantly aware of someone calling his name.
"Karris! Karris!" Someone was shaking him, too.
Karris' blue eyes snapped open, and he grinned at the boy gripping his shoulder. His breathing and heartbeat returned to normal as soon as he stopped concentrating. He felt winded and excited...and proud. His temperature, on the other hand, would have to warm up naturally. He scooted into a sitting position and pulled blankets around him.
The older boy grimaced. "Tilly was doing that too. I hate when you Healers are practicing and I have to wake you up. One of these days, one of you will really be dead, and I'll be shouting at you and shaking you for an hour before we figure out you're actually gone."
His teeth chattered when he answered. "When we're good at it, we'll wake up before you even touch us. Right now you could probably toss me out that window and I wouldn't know until I'd been dead for five minutes." He looked around the room. Something was different. The sunlight was stronger.
"What time is it, Fawn? When I came in here it was barely past High Cant. It looks like it must be Midday by now. Is it?"
Fawn snickered and flicked a lock of auburn hair from his eyes. "It's past Midday. The assembly will be called in less than half an hour. You might be able to make it in time, but Tilly's had five more minutes than you have, and I think _she'll_ be late." He looked a little sad, but turned and slipped out of the room before Karris could reply. Fawn's parents weren't coming, this year or ever again.
Feeling had returned to the tip of Karris' nose. He threw off the blankets and stood in a patch of sunshine while he changed into more formal clothes. His white linen tunic and robes had been pressed and hung carefully in the carved cedar wardrobe. Usually the acolytes wandered the halls in grey robes, and their feet were bare most of the year - unless they left the temple, or the winter nights were so cold that the smooth, polished stones underfoot were impossible to heat. Then, they wore the soft slippers that were waiting now.
Footsteps pounded along the hall, skidding to a stop just outside his door. Karris poked his head around the wardrobe in time to see Tilly barely catch herself on the doorframe, her pale fingers curled round the polished wood. She was out of breath, her straw-colored hair mussed from her frantic dash. "Karris! We're late! Hurry!"
"Hold on," he said, "I just need to put on my slippers." He stepped into them, then walked to his desk and began searching for something inside the drawers. Anything. _I don't want to go. Maybe I can say I feel sick - still chilled from practicing..._
He was dawdling, and Tilly knew it. She darted into the room and grabbed his arm, tugging him inexorably out to the hall. Karris protested, trying to list all the things he might need to bring with him, but knowing full well all he needed was himself. At the top of the stairs, the first bell sounded and he could stall no longer. Side by side, they sprinted down the tower steps, down Prince Dase's stairs. They fled along the corridor and slowed to a dignified pace just as they turned the corner to walk between the lines of statues leading into the Great Hall. They had two bells to spare.
This was where the people gathered during high holy days and feasts. The room stretched so far that the priests and priestesses sitting on the dais far ahead of them were indistinguishable except for the colors of their robes. A sea of people stretched out to either side, acolytes in the middle, then families, then leaders from temples all over the country. There was a symbology to this arrangement - the acolytes surrounded by the families that loved them, the priests and priestesses embracing them all. And all around them, names and faces carved into the very walls, the gods smiled benignly - enclosing, protecting, giving strength.
They pushed through the crowd, murmuring apologies and trying to be as invisible as possible. In the center of the hall, the other acolytes had taken their places. Karris cast about for empty spaces, hoping to find enough room for himself and Tilly to cram into quickly and without notice. He couldn't see any.
"Pssst! Karris! Over here." The whisper came from off to his left, a hiss he knew well. Tilly groaned softly. A small blonde girl gestured frantically and patted the bench beside her. There was more than enough room for both of them.
"Come on, Tilly, Deerja saved us seats."
"Karris..."
"Where else will we find two seats together? If we don't sit soon, we'll both get in trouble."
Her eyes moved wildly about the room, searching for somewhere else to sit. Tilly didn't like Deerja, yet, whenever Karris tried to press for her reasons, she denied it. She glanced over his shoulder, back at the tiny girl smiling happily, beckoning with her little hands. The eyes Tilly turned back to Karris brimmed with tears. "There's nowhere else."
Why couldn't she tell him what was wrong? "I'll sit between you two, okay? I promise."
"Promise you won't forget I'm there? You'll talk to me as much as to her?" Tilly didn't beg. Tilly didn't plead. She wasn't known to whine. Unless it came to Deerja.
"Have I ever left you out?" Now he was the one clutching at her, his turn to drag the reluctant girl along.
She exhaled and finally started moving along with him. "No. You haven't. Ever. I'm sorry, Karris. I am."
He patted her hand. "I know."
The other acolytes on the bench made room for them to pass, and Deerja giggled as Karris and Tilly slid in beside her. "I didn't think you two were going to make it. Fawn said he found you both playing dead. I thought he meant together at first, but then he said Tilly had a head start on getting ready." She smiled at Tilly and leaned across Karris. "It was nice of you to hurry him up. I bet he was trying to find every reason not to come down here, wasn't he?"
The older girl's answering smile was forced. "Yes, he was. But here we both are." Relief crept into her voice. "Ssssh, they're starting."
***
Deerja sat back as the figures at the head of the Grand Hall began to stir. She thought she could make out her parents to the far right on the stage. Waving would be undignified, so she suppressed the urge to try catching their attention.
Deerja was particularly skilled at whispering without moving her lips. She might not be able to signal to her parents, but she could still talk to Karris. Even bettter if he just nodded or shook his head in response. Tilly wouldn't know and couldn't get upset with him. Deerja didn't need her budding clairvoyance to know about the promises she extracted from Karris to give the girls equal attention.
It pained her that the Tilly didn't like her; Deerja was never mean to anyone, and never talked about her parents with the other children. If anything, Deerja tried hard to be just like everyone else.
Someday she'd get Tilly to open up. After all, they at least had Karris in common. That had to be a start.
Karris' eyes were troubled. Deerja knew how much he hated Visiting Days. Being forced to spend time with virtual strangers was hard on him. But it was easy enough to cheer him up. She nudged his arm.
He ignored her.
She nudged again.
His eyes flicked toward her, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, the meaning clear: _I'm sulking. Leave me alone._
Unacceptable. She reached up slowly, pretending to have an itch. He was studiously ignoring her, now. Good. She pinched his arm. Hard.
To his credit, he didn't react too loudly. Breath hissed through his teeth and he glared at her. _"What?"_ he mouthed.
Deerja blinked and widened her eyes at him, looking wounded. She considered letting tears surface, but that would be overkill. Her mouth turned down in a little pout, and Karris softened.
"Aw, Deerj, I'm sorry." He was trying to do her trick of not moving his lips.
He looked so funny that she couldn't hold the pout any longer. Her sunny smile returned. "Just playing."
He scowled, but she knew he wasn't really mad. It took a lot more than that to anger Karris. Actually, now that she thought of it, she had _never_ seen him mad at anyone before.
"Can you see your parents?" She craned her neck looking for Karris' mother. It shouldn't be too hard to pick the woman's shock of red hair out from among the masses. Karris' black hair came from his father. "Oh, hey, there they are." Deerja nodded toward the seated couple so Karris could see them. He didn't look, refusing to even tilt his head in that direction. She sighed.
The hushed whispers and fidgeting of five thousand people suddenly ceased. The king had arrived. Necks stretched to get a better view of him, and he stepped around in front of it so people could see.
King Rison's gold circlet gleamed, set off all the more by his dark russet hair. He paused before speaking, surveying the crowd, as though he wouldn't go on until he had made eye contact with every single person in the Great Hall. Deerja turned her smile up a notch when she felt his gaze pass over her.
Karris noticed and snickered softly, earning him a hard pinch and a scowl. Even that was short-lived, though, as King Rison, far up ahead, opened his arms wide. At the front of the sea of acolytes, a lone figure stood. Deerja's breath caught, and at the same time, every woman in the room stopped breathing.
Prince Kyne was leaving his row to join his father.
Where Rison was handsome and dignified, Kyne had yet to grow into manhood. His sixteen-year-old face held a beautiful androgyny; full lips, thick eyelashes, wide green eyes. His hair was a few shades lighter than his father's and cascaded down past his shoulders. He was tall and thin and willowy, and walked with a grace that came from years of learning court dances and swordplay.
Deerja, who was only nine, and therefore just learning that boys (Karris always the exception) existed for more than just annoying the girls, often daydreamed that _she_ was Kyne's secret love, and would someday become his betrothed.
On the other side of Karris, Tilly stared just as raptly at the Prince, her lips parting with a tiny sigh. Deerja reached behind Karris and poked the other girl, intending to share a secret, knowing smile: _I think he's beautiful, too._ Yet Tilly didn't react the way Deerja had hoped. At the touch, Tilly snapped out of her trance with a cry. Just one syllable - "Oh!" - but the acoustics of the Great Hall carried it to the front.
Kyne stopped in his tracks, halfway to King Rison's waiting embrace. He turned, a lazy, kindly grin forming, and pinned poor Tilly to her place with a glance.
She reddened and whimpered softly. Had Karris not draped a protective arm around her shoulders, the girl might have sunk all the way to the floor. Kyne's gaze switched to the boy and he dropped a wink, then turned back to the dais.
"My Lord Father, welcome," he said, dragging everyone's attention away from the withering Tilly and back to his royal self.
Deerja burned with shame all through the ceremony, not even able to sing the songs she loved so well when the hymns began. _Now she'll be even angrier at me. She'll think I did that on purpose._ Several times, she tried to catch Tilly's eye, but the older girl staunchly refused to glance past Karris.
His parents were coming.
The next three days would consist of long, uncomfortable silences broken by awkward attempts at conversation. This was how they had spent their time together for the last six years. Before that he was too small to remember their visits - most likely, he had toddled around and babbled at them, nonsense words and coos. Or maybe he had wailed at the strangers picking him up and demanding his attention. He never thought to ask; it seemed rude.
For now, he would retreat to his rooms until another acolyte came to fetch him. He had much studying to do, and didn't want to fall behind. All the acolytes who had families coming were excused from classes for the next few days, but those with no visitors who would be expected to continue their studies. Karris secretly envied them. He could lose himself in histories and thick, dusty tomes for hours on end. While other children his age spent their playtime running races and making up elaborate games, he preferred to find a spot in the sun where he could lounge with his newest book.
Now, the halls of the temple were unusually silent. The others must be in their rooms preparing - bathing, putting on their best clothes, memorizing lines to recite...
...practicing their magic.
His parents, like the parents of all the other children he knew, had been handsomely rewarded for his lucky birth. They had gone from barely scraping by to having three employees in their shop. He'd heard the story of his birth the last time they visited - in fact, they retold it _every_ time he saw them, never seeming to tire of the tale. Or, perhaps, the were reminding him from whence he came.
The soft patter of his bare feet echoed along the hall as he trudged to his rooms. Great arched ceilings soared above him, their apexes lost in darkness that candles and lamps could not reach. He wondered why no one had ever asked a Hallowed One to light a fire up near the top and leave it to burn forever. Stained glass windows lined one side of the corridor, filtering in late morning light. His skin turned crimson and blue and gold as he passed beneath them, colored by the robes and visages of gods and royals.
Karris considered the frozen faces looking down on him. Some of them were Hallowed, some normal, some divine. Only gods and goddesses held their hands out in blessing; the rest sat or stood with their hands folded in contemplation. He could see no differences between the Hallowed and the mundane, but he had memorized the names of those who were like him. _Maybe I'll be painted someday. Maybe they'll carve a window just for me._
He played a game as he climbed a long stone staircase, on each step whispering the name of a king or queen, starting with King Rison and working backwards. The list went back hundreds of years before he reached the top. Prince Dase the Healer used to pace up and down these very stairs when he was an acolyte, memorizing his history, composing poems, easing a troubled mind. Karris had no desire to spend all his time on the stairs, the way Dase must have if the stories were true, but he liked the soft echo of his voice in the empty air, the quiet rhythm of names stretching back through ages. He placed his feet in grooves well-worn by hundreds of years of students' feet, and imagined that his footsteps filled Dase's own.
The morning sun had warmed his rooms nicely. Karris' quarters were in a tower on the eastern side of the temple, and many times he would awaken with the dawn, to watch the sun as it rose above the city. From his window, he could witness the light creeping along the streets and up the sides of the palace. The palace sat in the middle of the city, its little buildings and courtyards sprawling over a square mile. The main building, right in the center, took up more than half of that. As the sun rose higher, the white washed walls caught the color of the clouds for a while, then gleamed as the sky turned blue. Painters all over the country had tried capturing it, but none of the pictures he had seen quite expressed the awe he felt; maybe it was because none of them had ever seen it from this height.
He passed through the antechamber filled with soft cushions and chairs and into the bedroom. The maids had been by. Karris always felt a little guilty leaving his things to be tidied up by someone else, but then again, he never made much of a mess. Neatness was second nature to him. The papers and books atop his writing desk were neatly stacked, not a single stray page sticking out. His bottles of ink and several quills lined up in a razor straight edge along the top. Even the chair had been pushed in.
The study he intended this morning, however, would not take place at the cozy little desk. For just a moment, he wriggled his toes in the patch of sunlight warming his shaggy rug, then he controlled his flop onto the bed, barely even messing up the blankets. He nestled into the pillows, closing his eyes and letting the silence of the morning surround him.
To become a healer, the teachers said, you must first control your body inside and out. He concentrated on his breathing first. In and out, hold and release. Soon his respiration could be barely detected. Someday, he'd be able to stop it for minutes at a time, maybe even hours. For now, though, the rise and fall was so slow as to be imperceptible. Next, his temperature. He thought of winter and snow and ice, of laying on the cold ground and being covered by icy white flakes, of cutting a hole in the ice and swimming in a frozen pond.
The bedsheets lost all their warmth.
Now for his heart. Karris was good at speeding it up, or evening it out, but slowing it down had so far eluded him. He wouldn't begin learning to control his muscles until he could change his heart rate at will. He imagined a galloping horse, racing across a grass covered plain, and he was the rider giving it commands. He brought the horse down to a canter, then, after a few minutes, a trot. He was readying himself to slow it to a walk when he became distantly aware of someone calling his name.
"Karris! Karris!" Someone was shaking him, too.
Karris' blue eyes snapped open, and he grinned at the boy gripping his shoulder. His breathing and heartbeat returned to normal as soon as he stopped concentrating. He felt winded and excited...and proud. His temperature, on the other hand, would have to warm up naturally. He scooted into a sitting position and pulled blankets around him.
The older boy grimaced. "Tilly was doing that too. I hate when you Healers are practicing and I have to wake you up. One of these days, one of you will really be dead, and I'll be shouting at you and shaking you for an hour before we figure out you're actually gone."
His teeth chattered when he answered. "When we're good at it, we'll wake up before you even touch us. Right now you could probably toss me out that window and I wouldn't know until I'd been dead for five minutes." He looked around the room. Something was different. The sunlight was stronger.
"What time is it, Fawn? When I came in here it was barely past High Cant. It looks like it must be Midday by now. Is it?"
Fawn snickered and flicked a lock of auburn hair from his eyes. "It's past Midday. The assembly will be called in less than half an hour. You might be able to make it in time, but Tilly's had five more minutes than you have, and I think _she'll_ be late." He looked a little sad, but turned and slipped out of the room before Karris could reply. Fawn's parents weren't coming, this year or ever again.
Feeling had returned to the tip of Karris' nose. He threw off the blankets and stood in a patch of sunshine while he changed into more formal clothes. His white linen tunic and robes had been pressed and hung carefully in the carved cedar wardrobe. Usually the acolytes wandered the halls in grey robes, and their feet were bare most of the year - unless they left the temple, or the winter nights were so cold that the smooth, polished stones underfoot were impossible to heat. Then, they wore the soft slippers that were waiting now.
Footsteps pounded along the hall, skidding to a stop just outside his door. Karris poked his head around the wardrobe in time to see Tilly barely catch herself on the doorframe, her pale fingers curled round the polished wood. She was out of breath, her straw-colored hair mussed from her frantic dash. "Karris! We're late! Hurry!"
"Hold on," he said, "I just need to put on my slippers." He stepped into them, then walked to his desk and began searching for something inside the drawers. Anything. _I don't want to go. Maybe I can say I feel sick - still chilled from practicing..._
He was dawdling, and Tilly knew it. She darted into the room and grabbed his arm, tugging him inexorably out to the hall. Karris protested, trying to list all the things he might need to bring with him, but knowing full well all he needed was himself. At the top of the stairs, the first bell sounded and he could stall no longer. Side by side, they sprinted down the tower steps, down Prince Dase's stairs. They fled along the corridor and slowed to a dignified pace just as they turned the corner to walk between the lines of statues leading into the Great Hall. They had two bells to spare.
This was where the people gathered during high holy days and feasts. The room stretched so far that the priests and priestesses sitting on the dais far ahead of them were indistinguishable except for the colors of their robes. A sea of people stretched out to either side, acolytes in the middle, then families, then leaders from temples all over the country. There was a symbology to this arrangement - the acolytes surrounded by the families that loved them, the priests and priestesses embracing them all. And all around them, names and faces carved into the very walls, the gods smiled benignly - enclosing, protecting, giving strength.
They pushed through the crowd, murmuring apologies and trying to be as invisible as possible. In the center of the hall, the other acolytes had taken their places. Karris cast about for empty spaces, hoping to find enough room for himself and Tilly to cram into quickly and without notice. He couldn't see any.
"Pssst! Karris! Over here." The whisper came from off to his left, a hiss he knew well. Tilly groaned softly. A small blonde girl gestured frantically and patted the bench beside her. There was more than enough room for both of them.
"Come on, Tilly, Deerja saved us seats."
"Karris..."
"Where else will we find two seats together? If we don't sit soon, we'll both get in trouble."
Her eyes moved wildly about the room, searching for somewhere else to sit. Tilly didn't like Deerja, yet, whenever Karris tried to press for her reasons, she denied it. She glanced over his shoulder, back at the tiny girl smiling happily, beckoning with her little hands. The eyes Tilly turned back to Karris brimmed with tears. "There's nowhere else."
Why couldn't she tell him what was wrong? "I'll sit between you two, okay? I promise."
"Promise you won't forget I'm there? You'll talk to me as much as to her?" Tilly didn't beg. Tilly didn't plead. She wasn't known to whine. Unless it came to Deerja.
"Have I ever left you out?" Now he was the one clutching at her, his turn to drag the reluctant girl along.
She exhaled and finally started moving along with him. "No. You haven't. Ever. I'm sorry, Karris. I am."
He patted her hand. "I know."
The other acolytes on the bench made room for them to pass, and Deerja giggled as Karris and Tilly slid in beside her. "I didn't think you two were going to make it. Fawn said he found you both playing dead. I thought he meant together at first, but then he said Tilly had a head start on getting ready." She smiled at Tilly and leaned across Karris. "It was nice of you to hurry him up. I bet he was trying to find every reason not to come down here, wasn't he?"
The older girl's answering smile was forced. "Yes, he was. But here we both are." Relief crept into her voice. "Ssssh, they're starting."
***
Deerja sat back as the figures at the head of the Grand Hall began to stir. She thought she could make out her parents to the far right on the stage. Waving would be undignified, so she suppressed the urge to try catching their attention.
Deerja was particularly skilled at whispering without moving her lips. She might not be able to signal to her parents, but she could still talk to Karris. Even bettter if he just nodded or shook his head in response. Tilly wouldn't know and couldn't get upset with him. Deerja didn't need her budding clairvoyance to know about the promises she extracted from Karris to give the girls equal attention.
It pained her that the Tilly didn't like her; Deerja was never mean to anyone, and never talked about her parents with the other children. If anything, Deerja tried hard to be just like everyone else.
Someday she'd get Tilly to open up. After all, they at least had Karris in common. That had to be a start.
Karris' eyes were troubled. Deerja knew how much he hated Visiting Days. Being forced to spend time with virtual strangers was hard on him. But it was easy enough to cheer him up. She nudged his arm.
He ignored her.
She nudged again.
His eyes flicked toward her, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, the meaning clear: _I'm sulking. Leave me alone._
Unacceptable. She reached up slowly, pretending to have an itch. He was studiously ignoring her, now. Good. She pinched his arm. Hard.
To his credit, he didn't react too loudly. Breath hissed through his teeth and he glared at her. _"What?"_ he mouthed.
Deerja blinked and widened her eyes at him, looking wounded. She considered letting tears surface, but that would be overkill. Her mouth turned down in a little pout, and Karris softened.
"Aw, Deerj, I'm sorry." He was trying to do her trick of not moving his lips.
He looked so funny that she couldn't hold the pout any longer. Her sunny smile returned. "Just playing."
He scowled, but she knew he wasn't really mad. It took a lot more than that to anger Karris. Actually, now that she thought of it, she had _never_ seen him mad at anyone before.
"Can you see your parents?" She craned her neck looking for Karris' mother. It shouldn't be too hard to pick the woman's shock of red hair out from among the masses. Karris' black hair came from his father. "Oh, hey, there they are." Deerja nodded toward the seated couple so Karris could see them. He didn't look, refusing to even tilt his head in that direction. She sighed.
The hushed whispers and fidgeting of five thousand people suddenly ceased. The king had arrived. Necks stretched to get a better view of him, and he stepped around in front of it so people could see.
King Rison's gold circlet gleamed, set off all the more by his dark russet hair. He paused before speaking, surveying the crowd, as though he wouldn't go on until he had made eye contact with every single person in the Great Hall. Deerja turned her smile up a notch when she felt his gaze pass over her.
Karris noticed and snickered softly, earning him a hard pinch and a scowl. Even that was short-lived, though, as King Rison, far up ahead, opened his arms wide. At the front of the sea of acolytes, a lone figure stood. Deerja's breath caught, and at the same time, every woman in the room stopped breathing.
Prince Kyne was leaving his row to join his father.
Where Rison was handsome and dignified, Kyne had yet to grow into manhood. His sixteen-year-old face held a beautiful androgyny; full lips, thick eyelashes, wide green eyes. His hair was a few shades lighter than his father's and cascaded down past his shoulders. He was tall and thin and willowy, and walked with a grace that came from years of learning court dances and swordplay.
Deerja, who was only nine, and therefore just learning that boys (Karris always the exception) existed for more than just annoying the girls, often daydreamed that _she_ was Kyne's secret love, and would someday become his betrothed.
On the other side of Karris, Tilly stared just as raptly at the Prince, her lips parting with a tiny sigh. Deerja reached behind Karris and poked the other girl, intending to share a secret, knowing smile: _I think he's beautiful, too._ Yet Tilly didn't react the way Deerja had hoped. At the touch, Tilly snapped out of her trance with a cry. Just one syllable - "Oh!" - but the acoustics of the Great Hall carried it to the front.
Kyne stopped in his tracks, halfway to King Rison's waiting embrace. He turned, a lazy, kindly grin forming, and pinned poor Tilly to her place with a glance.
She reddened and whimpered softly. Had Karris not draped a protective arm around her shoulders, the girl might have sunk all the way to the floor. Kyne's gaze switched to the boy and he dropped a wink, then turned back to the dais.
"My Lord Father, welcome," he said, dragging everyone's attention away from the withering Tilly and back to his royal self.
Deerja burned with shame all through the ceremony, not even able to sing the songs she loved so well when the hymns began. _Now she'll be even angrier at me. She'll think I did that on purpose._ Several times, she tried to catch Tilly's eye, but the older girl staunchly refused to glance past Karris.