Dawn’s arms were stretched over her head as she yawned wide enough to nearly crack her jaw.
“M’lady, I’ll never get these laces done if you keep taking in so much breath.” Nella sighed as she loosened the laces on the back of Dawn’s dress once again.
“Just do them up loosely. No one will notice,” Dawn suggested.
Nella met her eyes in the mirror looking affronted. “That’s no way for a young lady to be dressed. Not on my watch,” she added the last under her breath.
Dawn smiled sheepishly into the mirror, looking towards Misa’s reflection. Misa sat on the bed, already fully dressed, her hair smoothed into the same braid as the night before. Her dark almond shaped eyes glanced up and she smiled back. She seemed to have a sixth sense to know when she was being watched.
Last night the Lady Misa had started to relax as they ate. Dawn had carried most of the conversation, Misa’s responses usually quiet and often with a stumble here or there, but it had been satisfying watching her thaw over the course of the meal. But today, laced straight and looking pale, the anxiety had clearly set in again. Dawn couldn’t blame her. She only knew a little about her new charge, that Lady Misa Yokomoto had been raised away from court despite being the king’s great-niece and that her father was foreign. Dawn wondered if that was why they stayed away from court. It was clear at a glance that Misa wasn’t fully Aelorian, or even from Varyth, with her round face and almond eyes. Some might find fault in her appearance, but Dawn thought she was lovely.
“There,” Nella said, straightening up. She tugged gently at the waist of Dawn’s dress then nodded in satisfaction. “That’s something to be proud of.”
“Lacing a dress?” Dawn asked.
“Lacing you in a dress,” Nella replied, adding a belated “m’lady.”
Dawn made a face and sighed dramatically, the laces feeling annoyingly tight as she did.
”I do hope you don’t make such faces when being observed.”
Dawn jumped. She hadn’t seen Madame Whitcombe come into the room.
”Which, might I remind you, will be nearly all day every day, now that Lady Misa has arrived.” Whitcombe gave Dawn a steely stare. Still on the bed, Misa’s cheeks turned pink. Dawn wondered if it was going to happen every time she was mentioned.
Whitcombe sounded just like Dawn’s mother, Lady Merridan and to took a force of effort for Dawn to not roll her eyes. Instead she plastered a sweet smile on her face. “Of course, Madame Whitcombe.”
Whitcombe looked at her with clear suspicion, then turned to address Misa as well. “Come with me and we’ll have breakfast before your classes begin.”
At the table Dawn, always ravenous, piled a plate with hotcakes with melted butter, a bunch of grapes, and a pile of bacon. As she ate, Whitcombe watched her with a small frown then averted her eyes as if Dawn was doing something horribly rude. Maybe she was. But her family, despite being considered the backbone of House Reaburn, had never had such sweet hotcakes, such fresh fruit, or such fatty bacon.
Misa sat quietly, slowly eating small spoonfuls of porridge and picking at a plate of berries. Unlike with Dawn, Whitcombe looked satisfied at her polite eating. Dawn, watching closely out of the corner of her eye, thought it was more from nerves than comportment. Misa was drinking more tea than eating any of the food. And she couldn’t blame her, after Whitcombe’s little lecture about being watched.
Dawn finished her breakfast with a cup of sugary tea. Tea was still something new to Varyth, having come over the Titan’s Spine a few decades ago, and it didn’t grow well in the forested Aelorian east.
”Now,” Madame Whitcombe said after Dawn had cleared her plate and Misa was on her third cup of tea. “You will have a strict schedule starting today and I expect you to adhere to it. I will lead you around for the first week or so but you need to find your own way around the nominee-wing. After all, this is only one small part of the entire palace and if you are chosen to continue your education you will find yourself visiting all over the palace. Think of this as your first practical lessons. As a monarch, should you reach that goal, you’ll be traveling the kingdom and visiting other noble houses and having a sense of direction is imperative for the poise of a ruler. You can’t be walking behind a guide forever.
”After you’re finished eating you’ll begin learning mathematics from Master Hale. I assume you’ve both learned the basics? Adding, subtracting, multiplication?”
Dawn stifled a groan and Misa nodded, mute as ever.
”Master Hale is a renowned mathematician scholar. He will teach you theories and concepts that will help you when solving problems sent by petitioners and courtiers. After mathematics I’ll take you to the gardens for a walk and some fresh air.” Here she paused and said under her breath, “goodness knows you’ll need it.”
”We’ll take lunch in the gardens if it is nice out, otherwise we’ll be back in this room for every meal. You will then have etiquette with Mistress Thorne.” Whitcombe looked hard at Dawn. “You’ll have a chance for a break after that. But be warned, I will be watching.” Dawn opened her eyes wide in what she hoped was an expression of pure innocence. “You’ll have tea and then your final lesson of the day will be with Ser Edric who will begin to teach you the inner workings of Aeloria as a political body. And the evening will be free time in what we call the privy chamber where you can work on your lessons, perhaps needlework, music, and other things that will help you forge into a proper lady of the court. After all, even if you don’t rise in the ranks of nominees, you will still be ladies of the court. Is there something you want to say, Lady Dawn?”
Dawn had been sliding down in her seat since the mention of mathematics and her faux-innocent face had dropped completely at the idea of being a lady of the court. Her mother had warned her that her behavior would have to change once she came to Crownspire, the seat of Aelorian royalty and Dawn had been dreading it. Back home she had a tutor and a governess who watched over her, but this schedule of classes and Madame Elira Whitcombe’s ever-watching eagle eye told her that this would be nothing like home.
Madame Whitcombe ushered them both up, out the door, and down one floor to where the classrooms where. Dawn had, unsurprisingly, not spent much time exploring on this floor during the days before Misa had arrived. Whitcombe led them to one of the many doors and knocked. Then knocked again. Finally she sighed and pushed open the door. “Come in and sit down. I’ll find where Master Hale has got to.”
Dawn looked around the room. There was a long table with two chairs, two quills and ink pots, and stacks of papers waiting for them. Stationed at the front of the room was a desk and chalkboard. Misa had already taken a seat, but Dawn went to the window.
“Oh,” she said, “you can see the training grounds from here.” Little figures danced below, back and forth, strafing to the side, or moving in guarded circles. She watched them for a few more moments before turning her attention back to the room. She dropped into the other chair with a sigh. Misa was carefully lining a piece of paper up with the edge of the table.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” Dawn said after a moment of silent watching.
Misa actually jumped and her cheeks flushed red. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” she looked down at her lap. “I’m just nervous is all.”
Dawn leaned her head on her hand, elbow on the table. “Yes, that makes sense. I mean, it’s a lot to take in at once. If I had a chance to be the heir of the kingdom I’d have ordered an extra day in bed before starting all this.”
“Would you?” Misa looked over at Dawn. “I would just spend the entire day worrying about tomorrow.”
“I guess it’s good that tomorrow is today, then, huh?” Dawn grinned as Misa blinked then smiled.
Before Dawn could think of another thing to say that might make Misa smile a sharp knock rapped on the door and it swung back open.
Madame Whitcombe was back with an elderly man with a balding head and dark red scholar’s robes who was clutching a stack of papers to his chest. Whitcombe cleared her throat. “Lady Misa, Lady Dawn, this is Master Hale. Master Hale, these are your mathematics students.” Her job clearly done here, Whitcombe closed the door behind her, leaving the two girls alone with their first tutor.
Master Hale looked them both over then hobbled his way to the desk at the front, putting his papers down. “So,” he said in a voice as dry as paper. “You want to learn mathematics, eh?”
“Not really,” Dawn replied entirely without thinking. Beside her, Misa clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Master Hale did not seem amused. He pinpointed Dawn with a suddenly sharp gaze and frowned. “I see. You're just here to fill a requirement, eh? Just to say you've learned from a master, eh? Then you'll get some other mathematician to cover all your projects and you'll take the credit while he toils away at his desk creating blueprints for war machines and calculating the exact amount of water that needs to be transported to drought ridden territories with the most haste. Mathematics are more than just numbers on a slate, girl, they are the very essence of life!”
By now both girls were watching the old Master with alarm as he gripped the edge of the desk, breathing heavily. Dawn had never been so intimidated by someone so old in her life. She found herself wishing Whitcombe had stayed.
“Em,” she coughed, “yes, I mean, no, I'd never take the credit for anyone's work. Mathematics are very important and I apologize.” By the time she had managed her way through the apology, Master Hale had turned to the board and was scrawling numbers across it.
“Let's see where your skill level is. No more than a novice, if that, I expect.”
Once he was satisfied they both knew the basics of adding, subtracting, and multiplying, the master set them to multi-step problems, then buried himself in his papers. Dawn glanced up as she struggled through the problems to see him muttering to himself as he scribbled, ink flying from how quickly he worked. Then she looked over where Misa was, obediently bent over her page, several problems ahead. Then at the window where Dawn could imagine the training grounds where men were moving and free.
It felt like hours by the time Madame Whitcombe returned to them. She had to repeat herself to Master Hale twice over to confirm Dawn and Misa were finished with his lesson, to which he finally motioned irritably at the door.
Once outside, Dawn flung her arms wide in the sunlight and took a deep breath of the fresh air, fragrant with the flowers of the gardens. She took off at a brisk pace to unleash some of the energy that had been building inside her in that stuffy old room, the flowers replacing the smell of parchment in her nostrils and the sunlight warming her skin. Misa and Madame Whitcombe were following more slowly behind her, their voices tickling Dawn’s ears as they spoke. It sounded like something to do with one of the mathematics problems that Dawn hadn’t even reached and the very thought of that made Dawn’s stomach twist in rebuttal.
Lunch was a casual spread of small sandwiches, fruit, and tea. Dawn eagerly stacked her plate.
“Please show some reserve, Lady Dawn,” Whitcombe sighed as Dawn finished off her third sandwich.
“I’m starving,” Dawn replied, starting on a fourth.
Etiquette lessons came next and it didn’t take long for Dawn to regret the extra sandwich at lunch. Mistress Thorne was as prickly as her name suggested and started the girls on learning to properly curtsey. Dawn knew only how to do the quick, informal dips that were common in her family’s minor court. House Raeburn didn’t have much use for fancy court customs in general. Misa knew even less, having learned her father’s method of bowing more than a curtsey, hands together with a bow at the waist and neck.
“This is the most integral of courtly manners,” Mistress Thorne said as she circled the practicing girls bobbing up and down and up and down. “It is the first thing everyone will notice about you and the first thing you will be judged on. It is imperative that you know the correct timing, the correct posture.” She spoke with a crisp edge to her voice, not brittle, but strong and cutting.
“Lady Misa, relax your shoulders. Holding yourself tense causes you to wobble. And Lady Dawn, you need to take the opposite advice, your form suggests sluggishness.”
“I ate too much at lunch,” Dawn complained, struggling to straighten.
“Then next time restrain your appetite,” Mistress Thorne retorted dryly. “Again.”
By the time they stopped for a break and tea, Dawn’s knees were aching.
She had thought about finding Tomas during their afternoon break but found her feet hurt too much to go wandering for him and instead she meekly followed Madame Whitcombe as she led Misa to the library. Dawn dropped into a chair and rested her head on her arms and fell into a doze.
But it felt like only seconds of having her eyes closed before Misa’s soft voice interrupted her sleep.
”Dawn, it’s almost time for our next lesson.”
”Nmph,” Dawn grunted.
”Madame Whitcombe will be here soon.”
Dawn forced her eyes open and yawned. Misa was carefully stacking pages full of numbers that made Dawn’s head spin. “You were doing mathematics that whole time?”
”Well. Yes.” Misa blushed. She had been doing that almost all day whenever anyone paid her any attention. “I wanted to be sure I understood it.”
”Do you?”
”Not really.”
Dawn had to grin as Whitcombe entered the room to take them to their last lesson of the day.
Ser Edric, as he was introduced, was waiting for them in the classroom for politics. Compared to Master Hale’s scholar robes and Mistress Thorne’s extravagant skirts Ser Edric dressed simply, practically. His classroom was far neater than Hale’s though Dawn doubted it could possibly be more cluttered than Master Hale’s. The heralds of each of the Great Houses hung on the walls alongside the Aelorian Royal Family’s. A map of the kingdom with border lines was beneath it.
Ser Edric looked from one to the other, his brown eyes, almost amber, seemed calculating, but his face gave nothing away. “Lady Dawn Merridan,” he said. “Under House Raeburn. And Lady Misa Yokomoto of the Royal Aelorian Family.” He stood and went to the podium, resting his forearms against it. “Despite being nobility, the two of you come from very different branches. Lady Dawn, I presume you know of your own history and the heralds and names of the Great Houses?”
Dawn nodded, though she had to admit to herself that she had rarely paid attention to the old scholar that had been her tutor back home.
”And Lady Misa?”
Misa flushed once again and looked down with a small shake of her head. “I, um, I know the names…” she offered, then looked up with a plaintive look at the heralds that decorated the walls.
Ser Edric gave a small wave of his hand. “You were raised outside of any large court. Did you have any tutorage in Aeloria’s political structure?”
Again, Misa shook her head.
”That’s alright.” Dawn couldn’t help but speak up. “I was told all sorts of things about politics but I can’t remember most of them. So you won’t be behind or anything.”
Misa gave her a small grateful smile.
”I have to wonder if that has to do with the difficulty of the tutor or the student,” Ser Edric said, his brows raising just enough to show amusement.
Dawn looked back, meeting his eyes. “Both, probably.”
”I hope to do better than your last tutor. Assuming you do better as a student.”
Dawn opened her mouth to retort, but she couldn’t think of anything and Ser Edric had already turned to the map on the wall anyway.
This single day at the palace felt as if it were an entire week, or even year. Dawn, used to going her own way, had spent the day alternating between boredom and restlessness, the result being a grumpily exhausted 12-year-old girl. It wasn't right, being this tired after an entire day of nothing. She didn't listen even a little as Misa and Whitcombe spoke about the lessons of the day and what to look forward to tomorrow. She flopped into her bed after a mumbled good night to Misa when they were back in their rooms.
The next morning was much the same as the first, though Dawn's mood was significantly changed. She suffered through Nella's insistence on getting her stays done tight and her blonde curls in some semblance of order with relative silence. At breakfast she loaded up her plate as usual, but this time snuck a few of the honey roasted almonds into her pocket for later. Misa caught her eye as she did and gave her a small smile.
Dawn still wasn't sure what to make of her new charge. Misa was quiet most of the time and put her head down to work diligently at their lessons. Anytime someone said her name or looked at her for longer than a couple of seconds she turned scarlet. She seemed to have warmed up to Madame Whitcombe, which meant she either wasn't the sort of person Dawn would look forward to forging a friendship with or she had an amazing level of tolerance. Dawn hoped it was the second. All in all, Dawn couldn't imagine anyone more different than herself to make friends with. She didn't know how companions were selected but she wondered if they had made a mistake. Maybe since Misa had spent her life away from court they simply hadn't realized what a mismatch the quiet Lady Misa Yokomoto would be with someone who couldn't sit still for more than five minutes at a time. And as much as Dawn was grateful not to be under her mother's ever watchful eye, Madame Whitcombe made Lady Merridan look blind as a bat in comparison.
These thoughts were beginning to sour Dawn's appetite and she found herself actually grateful when Madame Whitcombe cleared her throat to tell them their schedule for the day.
“You'll begin the day with dance,” she started.
“Dance?” Both Misa and Dawn looked surprised when their voices rang out in unison. Misa bit her lip, but it looks like it was to not laugh this time rather than out of embarrassment or anxiety.
Madame Whitcombe looked from one to the other with an expression of surprise. “Of course. One can hardly be a proper courtier, much less one of royal standing, and stay on the sidelines during a ball. I take it neither of you have taken lessons before?”
Misa, predictably, shook her head. Dawn, likely just as predictable, wrinkled her nose. She'd had only a couple lessons the past year and none of them had gotten her anywhere. Her instructor had quit in protest, complaining he was wearing his knees out for nothing when Dawn failed to remember the steps of the most basic dances again and again.
“Well, Dancemaster Maris will have his work cut out for him. After our walk and your lunch you will meet with Archivist Vale for a history lesson, and after a break will be a lesson in religion with Priest Luka.”
Dawn sighed, picking at her breakfast. It sounded just as stifling as the day before.
Dancemaster Maris was…not what she had been expecting. Whitcombe left them in the same hall they had spent hours curtseying in the day before but instead of the stately, steely Mistress Thorne, stood a man. He was of middling height but seemed much taller and it took Dawn a moment to notice. He wore a shirt of brilliant blue, dark breeches, and shining boots that were cut tight around his calves. Though his hair was salt-and-peppered, his beard and moustache, each ending with a curling flourish, were pitch black.
“Ah, ladies!” he said, giving the girls an elaborate bow each, perfectly orchestrated to the correct height for a daughter of a minor noble house and an heir-nominee. “It is a pleasure to have been chosen to teach you the art of the dance.”
The dance lesson was three hours long. The first half was Dancemaster Maris showing them the steps of the most basic of courtly dances and the second half was Dawn and Misa’s clumsy attempts to imitate him. By the end of it Dawn was flushed red from effort and embarrassment. But Dancemaster Maris hadn’t laughed at their slip ups or even when Misa tripped over her own feet and ended up on the floor. Instead he watched them carefully, every now and then nodding his head just a fraction.
“Good,” he said as the clock finally chimed. “I have an idea of where you stand and next time the real learning will begin.”
Dawn didn’t think they had done much that could really be called “standing” but she was too breathless to comment.
Mercifully Whitcombe didn’t expect them to take a walk after that. Instead they were sent upstairs to change into different dresses, the ones they had been wearing were rumpled from activity and Dawn’s hem had managed to come unraveled. Nella tutted over this and took it away to be repaired.
In fresh clothing they sat in the shade of the garden as lunch was served. Dawn eyed the grass, wishing she could throw herself on the ground for a proper outdoor recovery, but didn’t have the energy for the argument that would doubtless ensue from Madame Whitcombe for such impropriety.
Archivist Vale was waiting for them in the classroom for history. They were dressed in the deep blue of the Aelorian temple, cinched at the waist with a silver belt. Dawn caught sight of a pile of thick books and managed to suppress a groan. She had a sudden memory of being in her father’s study, an oasis away from her mother’s sharp eye and control, slowly nodding off to sleep while he droned on and on about ancient Aelorian history like it was the most exciting thing in the world. Archivist Vale looked nothing like Dawn’s large, bearded father, but the light in their eyes and eager smile was sharply familiar.
“Welcome,” Vale said, shifting the books and papers around on the table that stood at the front of the room. “My name is Vale and I am an archivist for the Temple of Aelar. Madame Whitcombe has asked me to teach you two about the history of our kingdom. I’m thrilled to have been chosen. Now, I like to think of the history of Aeloria in two…no, three main parts. First is the time before Aelar united Aeloria into a single kingdom, back when the warbands and clans ruled the land. Next is the unification itself. The unification only took forty years but there is so much to learn about that time period. Finally is the birth of modern Aeloria, typically counted from the day Aelar was said to have ascended back to the stars.”
Dawn rested her cheek on her hand. Her mind drifted as Vale continued on, thinking of how tomorrow was the same as yesterday and two days from now would be the same as today. Lessons, short walks in the garden, Whitcombe’s watchful eyes. If she weren’t so tired from it all she might have panicked over the suddenly clear view of her life for the next six years.
Unless…
Dawn glanced over at Misa who was watching Archivist Vale intently, slowly nodding along to the scholar’s movements and rapidly rising and falling voice. Perhaps it was a horrible thing to think, but if Misa were to be found wanting and sent back home Dawn would surely be free to return home herself. Or perhaps Lady Merridan would decide that Dawn must keep a place at court for their family and she would be trapped here without a companion her same age. That was far more horrifying a thought than sitting through history lessons or curtseying for two hours straight.
“Were you paying attention to Archivist Vale at all, Dawn?” Misa asked.
They were again in the library for their afternoon break, Dawn slumped forward on a chair with her chin resting on her arms. She looked up when Misa spoke to see the heir-nominee watching her with curious dark eyes.
Dawn sighed. “Not really. I’m too tired to pay attention to anything. It feels as if we’ve been doing nothing but sitting and listening since yesterday.”
“And curtseying and attempting to dance,” Misa offered.
Dawn groaned and buried her face in her arms. After a moment she looked back up. “My father is a historian,” she said. “Not professionally, of course, but his entire study is stuffed with books on ancient Aeloria, back before it was called Aeloria.”
“Then you must know all about these sorts of things.”
“Not really,” Dawn repeated with a shrug.
“Oh.”
The girls lapsed into silence again and it occurred to Dawn that this was the most conversation they had really had a chance to have. “What about your father?” she asked, wanting to keep the momentum going.
“Oh, my father is a…well, I suppose he’s a scholar of a sort as well. And an artist.”
“An artist?” Dawn repeated. She hadn’t ever heard of a noble being an artist before. That was the sort of thing that merchant’s children took up, the ones that weren’t chosen to run their parent’s stores and needed something to do with their time. Not that artistry wasn’t important of course. But it wasn’t something she could picture a nobleman doing. “What kind of art?”
“Ink paintings,” Misa responded. “Ink,” she repeated to the blank look on Dawn’s face, “like what you use to write with. It’s very lovely. You have to be freer with your pen and looser with your hand than with the oil paints most artists use. So everything comes out very fluid and full of motion. It’s like movement come to life.” She smiled, a little shyly. “I have a couple of his paintings with my things. I could show them to you sometime, if you’d like.”
Dawn didn’t think she cared much about art in general, but she had to admit she was curious to see what movement come to life might look like.
The final lesson for the day was with a priest from the Royal Temple of Aelar, but Priest Luka didn’t look much like what Dawn had come to expect of temple priests. Rather than a strict and serene expression his round face had a near constant content smile and his hooded eyes looked like they were half closed. His voice was warm and soft and he reminded Dawn very much of a storyteller who might have all the village children sitting at his knee. Unlike the other tutors who stood at the front of the room, Priest Luka took a seat across the table from them.
The girls were silent, glancing between them. Priest Luka tilted his head, patiently waiting.
”Two gods worked together and one became the earth and the other the sky. Then they created the Veiled One and the Veiled One created humans,” Dawn said. “But we don’t worship them…right?”
Priest Luka didn’t answer, simply held a finger up. “And then?”
”Then Aelar came down from the heavens and united Aeloria.”
”And then?”
”He reascended.”
”Well, it sounds as if I have nothing more to teach you.”
”Huh?” Dawn gaped at him in confusion. She looked at Misa who was furrowing her brow.
”That can’t be all there is to it,” she said.
”Hm, there are some more details to the story, true,” Priest Luka said with a slow nod.
”And festivals and holidays and rituals and, and…” Misa’s voice was beginning to shake and Dawn instinctively reached out to take her hand.
”Yes, but you’ll find Lady Seraphine to be a better tutor on your role in those.”
”But that can’t be it!” Dawn burst out. She felt her cheeks heat as Priest Luka’s hooded eyes opened wider at her, but he didn’t seem upset. Instead he motioned her to continue. “I mean…it has to be more than just a story.”
”Like what?”
Dawn cast her mind around for an answer and searched Priest Luka’s face as if he would give her a hint. But his face remained contentedly impassive.
It was Misa who spoke up again. “Why? Why was Aelar sent to us? Why did the Veiled One make humans and why did the Eldest give up their agency to become our world?”
Priest Luka’s smile grew wider. “Wonderfully asked. Those are the questions I hope you will search for answers for.”
”But aren’t you supposed to be teaching us?” Dawn asked. She was annoyed at this line of questioning, annoyed at being asked for answers they didn’t have, yet. Annoyed at needing to think. “Oh,” she breathed out.
Perhaps this might be the most interesting class, yet.
