Fire - Kristin Cashore [56]
Fire’s eyes had been starved for the colours of King’s City, and she hadn’t even known it. How her father must have shone in this place.
The five thousand soldiers veered off as Fire, her guard, and Brigan approached the ramp to the gates. Spears were raised and the doors swung in. The horses passed through a black stone gatehouse and emerged into a white courtyard dazzling with the reflection of the sunset on quartz walls, and the sky pink behind flashing glass roofs. Fire craned her neck and gaped at the walls and roofs. A steward approached them and gaped at Fire.
‘Eyes on me, Welkley,’ Brigan said, swinging down from his horse.
Welkley, short, thin, impeccably dressed and groomed, cleared his throat and turned to Brigan. ‘Forgive me, Lord Prince. I’ve sent someone to the offices to alert Princess Clara of your arrival.’
‘And Hanna?’
‘In the green house, Lord Prince.’
Brigan nodded and held a hand up to Fire. ‘Lady Fire, this is the king’s first steward, Welkley.’
Fire knew this was her cue to dismount and give her hand to Welkley, but when she moved, a spasm of pain radiated outward from the small of her back. She caught her breath, gritted her teeth, pulled her leg over her saddle and tipped, leaving it to Brigan’s instincts to keep her from landing on her backside before the king’s first steward. He caught her coolly and propped her on her feet, his face impassive, as if it were routine for her to launch herself at him every time she dismounted; and scowled at the white marble floor while she presented her hand to Welkley.
A woman entered the courtyard then that Fire could not fail to sense, a force of nature. Fire turned to locate her and saw a head of bouncy brown hair, sparkling eyes, a sparkling smile, and a handsome and ample figure. She was tall, nearly as tall as Brigan. She threw her arms around him, laughing, and kissed his nose. ‘This is a treat,’ she said. And then, to Fire, ‘I’m Clara. And now I understand Nash; you’re more stunning even than Cansrel.’
Fire couldn’t find words to respond to this, and Brigan’s eyes, suddenly, were pained. But Clara simply laughed again and patted Brigan’s face. ‘So serious,’ she said. ‘Go on, little brother. I’ll take care of the lady.’
Brigan nodded. ‘Lady Fire, I’ll find you before I take my leave. Musa,’ he said, turning to Fire’s guard, who stood quietly with the horses. ‘Go with the lady, all of you, wherever Princess Clara takes her. Clara, see that a healer visits her, today. A woman.’ He kissed Clara’s cheek hurriedly. ‘In case I don’t see you again.’ He spun away and practically ran through one of the arched doorways leading into the palace.
‘He always has a fire under his tail, Brigan,’ Clara said. ‘Come, Lady, I’ll show you your rooms. You’ll like them, they overlook the green house. The fellow who tends the green house gardens? Trust me, Lady, you’d let him stake your tomatoes.’
Fire was speechless with astonishment. The princess grabbed the lady’s arm and pulled her toward the palace.
FIRE’S SITTING ROOM did indeed overlook a curious wooden house tucked into the back grounds of the palace. The house was small, painted a deep green, and surrounded by lush gardens and trees so that it seemed to blend in, as if it had sprouted from the ground like the growing things around it.
The famous gardener was nowhere in sight, but as Fire watched from her window, the door to the house opened. A young, chestnut-haired woman in a pale yellow dress stepped outside and passed through the orchard to the palace.
‘It’s Roen’s house, technically,’ Clara said, standing at Fire’s shoulder. ‘She had it built because she believed the king’s queen should have a place to retreat to. She lived there fully after she broke with Nax. She’s given it to Brigan’s use,