to keep a straight face. “I believe it may be spontaneous.”
“Why aren’t your guards putting up barriers, controlling the crowd?” Con asked.
Restraining a sigh of exasperation, I waved a hand at the gardens, which gave way to the tiers of houses gracefully cascading to the harbor below. “This belongs to everyone on Calanthe. Except for a few places that require security, we don’t bar anyone. Really, it’s fine.” But I let go of the idea that I’d get any work done that evening. “Everyone deserves a bit of celebration, yes?”
“Seems like that’s about all the Calantheans do,” Con replied. They both relaxed somewhat, though neither looked particularly pleased. “News travels fast,” Sondra commented sourly.
“Yeah,” Con said. “I get how the temple people knew you’d fixed Calanthe, but how did these folks know?”
I shrugged cheerfully. “They felt it.”
Sondra muttered something about creepy landscapes, and Con flashed her a grin. By then, my people had spotted us and surged forward, shouting tributes and praise.
“Please don’t bash anyone over the head,” I said to Con.
“I thought you said this was a party,” he complained. “How is that any fun?”
Even Sondra laughed, though she still surveyed the surging mass of rowdy celebrants with glittering suspicion. To forestall further argument, I dismounted, springing lightly to the gravel path and ignoring Con’s curse at my making myself vulnerable. Bright Ejarat, but it felt wonderful to have my body healthy and strong again. I even moved speedily enough to dodge Sondra’s grab for me, holding out my arms to the crowd.
It wasn’t long before I sensed the pair of them at my back, my stalwart protectors. Nearly overwhelmed by my ebullient people, I paid Con and Sondra little attention, giving one person after another the opportunity to bow over the orchid ring, inhale its fragrance, all of us offering praise to Calanthe.
It did my heart good, truly, to walk among my people and share in their joy. Maybe Con was right that there were different kinds of love. Perhaps it had been selfish and greedy of me to long for more. I’d been born to duty—created deliberately for it—and my personal happiness didn’t matter. There was work ahead, not just for Calanthe, but to restore the world if Con and his people succeeded. I needed to focus on that.
This is what matters, I told myself. This love is all you need. I walked among them for quite some time, passing along orders to bring out food and wine, enjoying the spontaneous revelry.
After a while—and after it seemed that every one of the thousands present had greeted me—Ibolya appeared at my elbow, offering me an iced wine. I took it uncertainly, though I’d grown exceedingly warm and was terribly thirsty. The sun, though lowering quickly to sunset, blazed in the cloudless sky, making it stiflingly warm in the gardens thronged with people, well away from the cooling coastal breezes.
“Just try a sip, Your Highness,” Ibolya urged, “to see if You can keep it down. If so, I’ll bring You actual food.”
I smiled with gratitude and chagrin. Silly of me to imagine Ibolya hadn’t known exactly how much I had—and hadn’t—been eating. “Thank you.”
For privacy, I moved to a bench under a flowering tree, the shade cool and lovely, the rosy panicles falling all around like a gentle rain. Sondra kept an eye on me while Kara spoke with Con, Vesno flopped at his feet, tongue lolling. Reporting on their ships, no doubt. I sat with a grateful sigh. At least the boots, though high-heeled enough to give me some height, didn’t hurt to stand in for long periods. I sipped the wine, light and icy, perfectly refreshing. Ibolya watched me carefully, and I waited for my stomach to react, but I seemed to be restored. “It’s excellent, and I think I’ll be fine.”
“Allow me to fetch Your Highness something to eat then.” Ibolya turned to go.
“Not just yet. Sit with Me.” She obediently joined me, though with an odd hesitation in her manner. I eyed her. “Are you angry with Me?”
Her dark eyes flew to mine in shock before she demurely lowered them again. “It’s not my place to have feelings about You one way or the other, Your Highness.”
They were so like my father’s words—and so clearly misguided—that I experienced a flash of unease before putting it firmly away.
“Oh, fuck that,” I replied tartly, shocking her again. “Let Me apologize to you, for putting you on the spot with your sister ladies-in-waiting. Being singled out for favor