All that had changed, and although there was no ball taking place, the ballroom was no longer closed up and dark. Tonight, as on the past several nights, it was lit with thousands of wax candles, and all the doors were standing open wide to a wonderful night breeze coming in from the garden. The garden itself had been illuminated with torches, their light reflecting in the water of little ornamental pools and tiny fountains.
All of the sons-nephews-grandsons of the neighbors were still in the running, and as a consequence, the borders were still clear, and Godmother Lily had told Rosa not to worry for now. So she was trying not to; trying to actually enjoy some of this.
The much-thinned ranks of the Princes milled about the garden and ballroom, while a single minstrel played in one corner. There was wine to drink, and there were still lovely ladies to flirt with, and none of those lovely ladies but the Princess had been present to see what fools they all had made of themselves at the sheepfolds. Princess Rosamund moved among them and her courtiers, congratulating and commiserating in turn.
At the moment, things were not going as she had planned or hoped. She had looked in vain for Siegfried and Leopold; they were nowhere in sight, and she felt a twinge of disappointment. She told herself again that she wasn't supposed to have favorites, but it didn't really help.
Then she heard her name in an unfamiliar voice. "Princess Rosamund." Just as she was turning around on hearing a little stir from the garden, hoping she might finally catch them coming in the door, one of the crowd in front of her detached himself from the people he was talking to, moved into her path and bowed a little.
She returned the bow with a gracious nod. It was a good thing she had early on learned the trick of pinning names to faces quickly, for she had his name on her tongue before he had straightened. "Prince Desmond. You did well out there, and I understand from all that I saw you were particularly deft in the middle stage." She did not say that Siegfried and Leopold had been just as quick without the use of magic. That would not have been politic, and besides, this was the first time she had seen this particular young man except at a distance. He certainly was worth a closer look.
The Prince in question was undeniably good-looking. He was built as well as any of the candidates, and better than some. Wide shoulders did not strain the velvet of his tunic; it was fitted to him too well for such a tailoring mistake. A sash-belt with an ornamental sword hanging from it showed off a narrow waist without making it look as if he wastrying to do so. Good, muscular legs inside formfitting moleskin breeches made it very clear that Desmond rode, rode well and rode often.
As for the rest of him, blue eyes glittered at her from a face that was just saved from being too pretty by a good square jaw. A comma of black hair over one eyebrow saved his short ebony locks from being arranged a little too perfectly. He smiled charmingly, and had very white teeth. "If by that, Princess, you mean to imply that I had magical help, yes I did. There was nothing in the rules forbidding it." His smile broadened. "In fact there wasn't much in the rules at all. Very wise. If you'd forbidden anything, plenty of people would try to violate the rule, someone was sure to cry foul, and we would be running the same race for the next fortnight. The shepherds would appreciate it, but not the sheep, and certainly not us."
She shrugged. "It isn't as if you all are without resources, and the trial is supposed to weed those who have little from those who have a great deal to offer. I must find out just what resources those are, and how clever you are with them. My people have a saying, 'Never buy a pig in a sack.'"
"I think that's a universal," said Desmond, then cocked his head to the side in a curiously charming gesture as he shifted his weight to his other foot and she fanned herself. "That is a rather earthy sort of saying."
"I am a rather earthy sort of Princess," Rosamund replied, throwing him a challenge. "My mother was a shepherdess, after all." There were those that would find that a distinct handicap. Let's see how he reacts to that.
"Was she?" He chuckled. "My grandfather made clocks. As a hobby, but they were rather good ones. We think he probably would have made a better clockmaker than a ruler. He certainly would have been happier as a clockmaker. There is something to be said for being happy in what you do." Desmond's smile didn't waver. Well good, he wasn't going to run screaming because she was half commoner.
"Do you expect to get similar magical help with the rest of the trials?" she asked. "It would be useful to know that, from my perspective. Resources, after all — was this just a onetime charm, or do you have someone you can call on at will? I suppose you already know that since we know some of you will be using magic, we're concocting contests where magic won't help." I hope, she added mentally.
"Oh, I would expect that. You've already shown how clever you are, just by staging all of this — " his gesture took in the room full of Princes and the gardens beyond " — in order to hold off the wolves that would have descended when your father died. I admire your skill and your wit, Princess, and your ability to think when pressed and pressed hard. You have enemies ready to swoop down over the borders and swallow you whole, so you manage to get almost a hundred ostages to come to you and put themselves willingly in your hands. Very good strategy. I couldn't have managed better myself."
For a moment, it seemed as if the two of them were encased in a bubble that held everyone else out. He gazed into her eyes with a hint of challenge. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't approve?"
"Oh, I very much approve. I wouldn't be here myself if I didn't approve." His smile never wavered. "There are plenty of available royal ladies out there who don't have the sense to save themselves or the wit to figure out how. They rely on men to do all that for them. They don't interest me."
"And I do?" She was getting charmed, despite trying not to be. She couldn't help it; that last came out with more than a hint of flirtation in it.
"I wouldn't still be here if you didn't." He gave her a bow, and the moment passed, the invisible bubble evaporated, and people were moving into their space as they talked. "But I am keeping you from the rest of your guests. I understand that protocol must be observed here. It wouldn't do to be seen talking too long with any particular fellow among us. You can't have favorites."
But his knowing smile said not even me, even though you'd like that.
"Quite right." She gave him a nod, and softened it with a smile. "Best of luck in the next contest, Prince Desmond."
As she moved on to the next guest, a waft of breeze carried the scent of roses in from the garden and she found she was still smiling, the disappointment over not seeing Siegfried quite, quite gone.
* * *
Lily collapsed in a chair beside the cold fireplace, which in summer was filled with flowers. Once the last of the spells had been broken, she felt as if she had been carrying every one of those Princes across the finish line on her own back. It had been a very, very long day, first transforming, then releasing all those mouse-horses, conjuring and dismissing the armor. Even with nearly unlimited Traditional power pressing down on this kingdom like swollen-bellied rain clouds, the work had still taken its toll on her. A hot bath had helped, and after a light supper Rosamund had volunteered to be the gracious hostess, and Lily had blessed her for the few hours alone. She'd not gotten many of those of late, and she surely missed her privacy and the comfort of her own Palace.
This was the most time she had spent in the company of anyone other than her Brownies in decades. Godmothers generally worked alone, and Lily was no exception to that rule. She had forgotten how wearying the constant presence of mortals was. Especially when she had to keep up her disguise of Queen Sable. They seemed to be everywhere, and they all wanted something of her. Her Brownies were exquisitely sensitive to her moods, and knew when to leave her alone. The human servants...weren't. If she didn't periodically lock her door, she'd never keep them out.
But now the doorswere locked, the windows were open, there was a lovely breeze coming in off the garden, and the people who crammed the Palace full betrayed themselves by nothing more annoying than a distant murmur, like bees. She sipped at a glass of sherbet.