Chapter Ten
On the morning of the next competition, Odine still felt like she was floating on air. Sure, the lack of required magic didn’t necessarily mean she’d have the skills to pass whatever it was today, but nothing could bring her down now. The rest of the most recent night with the prince played over and over again in her head. The quiet reading with only occasional noises for snacking, how he had handily finished off the entirety of the food on the board mostly on his own, and the adorable blush that had returned when he reached for more and realized it was all gone.
“I’ll have more sent tomorrow,” he assured Odine, and she had assured right back that it was no trouble. It was served to be eaten.
“I’m glad you think so,” Amory said as he settled back with a sigh. “Not everyone does.”
“Who puts out food with the intention that it won’t all be eaten?”
“An excellent question, Odine, and the answer is many of the gentry. But why? I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, yes. If I get even close to the end of a dish at any dinner also attended by my family, I am chastised to no end.”
Odine wrinkled her nose.
“You would think the hosts would see it as a compliment. I certainly do.”
“Thank you! That is what I think too. But no - an unabashed love for good food is not, apparently, befitting a crown prince.”
“Absurd,” was all Odine could think to say, shaking her head. By this time, she had made them both strong cups of yellow tea and poured glasses of honey wine. She was embarrassingly overjoyed to see Amory appearing to enjoy them both.
“In any case,” the prince continued, “I shall see to it your larder does not go empty for long. I may be greedy, but I’m not inconsiderate.”
And he was true to his word - the next morning, a full wheel of cheese, several loaves of fresh baked bread, a multitude of fruits, and even a few bars of rich chocolate were delivered to her room. Odine felt warmth travel from the base of her throat all the way down her body as she put them away, promising herself she’d save the best of it for the next time the prince came to see her.
Since that night, Straggler’s Peak had also taken some interesting turns. There was still quite a bit of battling, but more focus was given to the hero’s indecision between his childhood love, Marian, and his passionate first mate, Edward. Odine adored both of the characters, finding each to have a fascinating and unique connection to Lowan, the captain and protagonist of the book. It wasn’t clear at all at this point who he would end up with, and her nerves at the idea of seeing one of them hurt and alone caused her to start and abruptly stop Straggler’s Peak multiple times a day.
She was running low on dress options, but Odine selected a new one for the task that day. It was a few shades of cream darker than her skin and hair, sewn with a short cap sleeve and several layers of tulle in the skirt. On the top layer, Odine had used up the last of her colored thread to stitch berries. The deep purples, reds, and even blacks of the fruit done in patterns across her dress drew the eye, but didn’t wash her out.
Odine all but skipped out of her room and towards the ballroom, Kelvi, without a pocket to hide in, circled around her wrist like a bracelet. Outside the ballroom, the competitors were gathering, the doorway to their lower entrance currently shut. But low voices from inside trailed out occasionally, as whatever the day’s competition consisted of was set up.
Odine wasn’t too late that day, but Gertie was still there before her, and the pair exchanged smiles and quick waves as Odine slipped next to the taller girl. Gertie was in a green dress so beautiful that Odine couldn’t help a flash of jealousy that ran from an ache in her heart into her toes. It was a deep jewel tone a couple shades darker than Gertie’s hair, and the low cut and slits in the sleeves and legs that revealed soft brown flesh were surprisingly sensual for the shy girl.
“You look amazing,” Odine told her honestly. Gertie, as expected, blushed at the compliment.
“Thank you. I was…” Gertie lowered her voice to a whisper. “…I was told something a bit more…appealing…may help today.”
“Ohhhh,” Odine breathed, nervous and intrigued.
“You look lovely too, Odine!” Gertie continued, looking her much smaller friend up and down with a genuine smile. “Oh, I love these.” She poked the sewn berries on Odine’s sleeve, and Odine smiled back.
“Thanks, Gertie.”
Before Gertie could reply, a royal servant appeared at the head of the ladies. As Odine had talked with her friend, the rest of the competitors had piled in behind them, waiting eagerly. The servant held several braided wreaths of rowan berries in their hands and up their arms - which, when worn, would prevent any magic from being used by their bearer. Each contestant was required to take one and don it on their wrist before entering the ballroom. Odine put hers on the opposite wrist from Kelvi, smiling down at her snake as she did so. If anything, this filled her with relief - there was no question of magic being required or even allowed this week, now.
In the ballroom, the upper landing looked much as it did the last week. A head table for the royal family, with Balthazar Graves at the very top of the stairs. But rather than several miniature tables to work at, there was seating in the back of the ballroom for the girls to wait at - while at the area closer to the stairs was a long covered table full of musical instruments.
“Your task today is to entertain Their Royal Highnesses with a song,” Graves announced. “You may select from any of the instruments available, and choose any song from your repertoire. You will be judged on musical aptitude, and performance appearance.”
Finally, nerves began to roil in Odine’s gut. Of course she recognized most of the instruments offered - but she hadn’t played any for over ten years.
“You each have five minutes to look over the instruments, and then the competitors shall go alphabetically to showcase their skill for Their Highnesses. Good luck.”
At this, all the girls rushed forward to inspect the options. Odine allowed herself to be pushed forward, then drifted to the back of the throng. She saw a lute and a lyre on opposite ends of the table, a shawm, a viol, a crumhorn, a lira, a dulcian, and even deflated bagpipes. Nothing rang out to her with inspiration, and cold dread swept more deeply into her veins.
She looked up from the table in front of them to the upper landing, and made eye contact with Dominic. His look was hard, and unflinching - even in response to the worry in Odine’s. The meaning was clear - if you can’t get past this on your own, I can’t help you. The soldier may not have his own strand of rowan berries, but any magic cast would give out energy, and the cheating would be obvious to anyone paying attention in the room. But before Odine looked away, the prince caught her eye as well, and offered an encouraging smile. Feeling some of the lightness from earlier return, Odine went back to her seat with a ghost of a smile on her face.
Gertie was one of the first to perform, being Lady Abbas. She selected a beautiful silver harp, made her way up the staircase, curtsied, and took a seat in a high-backed green velvet chair opposite the royals with all the manners of a lady. She played a gentle melody that perfectly reminded Odine of her friend. It was a soft and calming tune, and Odine allowed the feelings it elicited to wash over her and cover some of her nerves.
The royal family was in quick agreement, and Gertie made her way to the opposite wall, to sit with those moving forward in the competition. Most ladies did - though favoritism was obvious, if not remarked upon. One highborn redhead missed several notes on the flute, but was permitted to pass - while a slightly less attractive and wealthy competitor was dismissed for approximately the same amount of off-key missteps on a hurdy-gurdy.
It may have been what she wanted to see, but Odine could have sworn that Amory looked sorry after each dismissal by the Queen Mary. Still, he didn’t argue when it happened, and the first half of the alphabet went by in what felt like seconds. Soon, Odine was called.
Getting to her feet as steadily as she could muster, Odine approached the instrument table for one last look - then passed by it without selecting anything. A few murmurs broke out from the competitors behind her, and the ones along the wall, but the royals simply stayed silent, watching. The king and queen’s brows furrowed, though both the prince and his captain behind him watched Odine with open curiosity.
As Odine reached the top of the stairs, she approached the royal table and curtsied long and low. As she stood up straight, she swallowed, breathed in deeply, and began to sing.
It wasn’t a long song. She chose a ballad of less than a minute, one about leaving home and the paths ahead. Ones of darkness and shadow, but also light. The ending was ambiguous, fading out on lines that could indicate the narrator’s death, or finding true happiness. It was one written by and for men, but Odine’s voice was much lower than most highborn ladies that turned to singing - who were often only encouraged when they could reach the highest possible notes. Odine couldn’t even get close. So she’d learned to adapt, and found it brought her comfort even after the collapse of her homeland.
Amory, who was clad in a golden and blue doublet which spilled out over the sides of his high red chair, was gazing at her in open admiration. Even Dominic’s cool expression revealed some degree of surprise behind his grey eyes. The king and queen, meanwhile, had furrowed their brows further - the king fingering the familiar amulet that rested against his chest.
“You did not select an instrument,” Queen Mary said moments after the last notes had faded away, and Odine felt her heart drop.
“No, your highness. But the task was to entertain you with a song, and I hope I have achieved that still.”
“One moment,” King Bertram said to Odine as Amory turned to speak to his mother. Odine couldn’t pick up any individual words in the murmuring, but the royal family spoke for what felt like much longer than they had for any of the others.
“All right,” Queen Mary finally said, turning out to face Odine again. “It was technically proficient. You may go.” And she gestured towards the back wall with Gertie and the other competitors who had passed. Heart hammering in overwhelming relief, Odine curtsied again and made her way back.
The rest of the competition passed in a blur. Though one other girl, from a lesser house of the outer kingdom with a squat canine familiar, also took the risk and sang. After only a momentary discussion by the royal family, she was sent home, though Odine would have sworn on her life that the girl wasn’t actually any worse than Odine herself had been. Gertie placed a hand on Odine’s shoulder and squeezed gently, which reminded the northern girl to carefully rearrange her face into its normal calm nonchalance.
On the morning of the next competition, Odine still felt like she was floating on air. Sure, the lack of required magic didn’t necessarily mean she’d have the skills to pass whatever it was today, but nothing could bring her down now. The rest of the most recent night with the prince played over and over again in her head. The quiet reading with only occasional noises for snacking, how he had handily finished off the entirety of the food on the board mostly on his own, and the adorable blush that had returned when he reached for more and realized it was all gone.
“I’ll have more sent tomorrow,” he assured Odine, and she had assured right back that it was no trouble. It was served to be eaten.
“I’m glad you think so,” Amory said as he settled back with a sigh. “Not everyone does.”
“Who puts out food with the intention that it won’t all be eaten?”
“An excellent question, Odine, and the answer is many of the gentry. But why? I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, yes. If I get even close to the end of a dish at any dinner also attended by my family, I am chastised to no end.”
Odine wrinkled her nose.
“You would think the hosts would see it as a compliment. I certainly do.”
“Thank you! That is what I think too. But no - an unabashed love for good food is not, apparently, befitting a crown prince.”
“Absurd,” was all Odine could think to say, shaking her head. By this time, she had made them both strong cups of yellow tea and poured glasses of honey wine. She was embarrassingly overjoyed to see Amory appearing to enjoy them both.
“In any case,” the prince continued, “I shall see to it your larder does not go empty for long. I may be greedy, but I’m not inconsiderate.”
And he was true to his word - the next morning, a full wheel of cheese, several loaves of fresh baked bread, a multitude of fruits, and even a few bars of rich chocolate were delivered to her room. Odine felt warmth travel from the base of her throat all the way down her body as she put them away, promising herself she’d save the best of it for the next time the prince came to see her.
Since that night, Straggler’s Peak had also taken some interesting turns. There was still quite a bit of battling, but more focus was given to the hero’s indecision between his childhood love, Marian, and his passionate first mate, Edward. Odine adored both of the characters, finding each to have a fascinating and unique connection to Lowan, the captain and protagonist of the book. It wasn’t clear at all at this point who he would end up with, and her nerves at the idea of seeing one of them hurt and alone caused her to start and abruptly stop Straggler’s Peak multiple times a day.
She was running low on dress options, but Odine selected a new one for the task that day. It was a few shades of cream darker than her skin and hair, sewn with a short cap sleeve and several layers of tulle in the skirt. On the top layer, Odine had used up the last of her colored thread to stitch berries. The deep purples, reds, and even blacks of the fruit done in patterns across her dress drew the eye, but didn’t wash her out.
Odine all but skipped out of her room and towards the ballroom, Kelvi, without a pocket to hide in, circled around her wrist like a bracelet. Outside the ballroom, the competitors were gathering, the doorway to their lower entrance currently shut. But low voices from inside trailed out occasionally, as whatever the day’s competition consisted of was set up.
Odine wasn’t too late that day, but Gertie was still there before her, and the pair exchanged smiles and quick waves as Odine slipped next to the taller girl. Gertie was in a green dress so beautiful that Odine couldn’t help a flash of jealousy that ran from an ache in her heart into her toes. It was a deep jewel tone a couple shades darker than Gertie’s hair, and the low cut and slits in the sleeves and legs that revealed soft brown flesh were surprisingly sensual for the shy girl.
“You look amazing,” Odine told her honestly. Gertie, as expected, blushed at the compliment.
“Thank you. I was…” Gertie lowered her voice to a whisper. “…I was told something a bit more…appealing…may help today.”
“Ohhhh,” Odine breathed, nervous and intrigued.
“You look lovely too, Odine!” Gertie continued, looking her much smaller friend up and down with a genuine smile. “Oh, I love these.” She poked the sewn berries on Odine’s sleeve, and Odine smiled back.
“Thanks, Gertie.”
Before Gertie could reply, a royal servant appeared at the head of the ladies. As Odine had talked with her friend, the rest of the competitors had piled in behind them, waiting eagerly. The servant held several braided wreaths of rowan berries in their hands and up their arms - which, when worn, would prevent any magic from being used by their bearer. Each contestant was required to take one and don it on their wrist before entering the ballroom. Odine put hers on the opposite wrist from Kelvi, smiling down at her snake as she did so. If anything, this filled her with relief - there was no question of magic being required or even allowed this week, now.
In the ballroom, the upper landing looked much as it did the last week. A head table for the royal family, with Balthazar Graves at the very top of the stairs. But rather than several miniature tables to work at, there was seating in the back of the ballroom for the girls to wait at - while at the area closer to the stairs was a long covered table full of musical instruments.
“Your task today is to entertain Their Royal Highnesses with a song,” Graves announced. “You may select from any of the instruments available, and choose any song from your repertoire. You will be judged on musical aptitude, and performance appearance.”
Finally, nerves began to roil in Odine’s gut. Of course she recognized most of the instruments offered - but she hadn’t played any for over ten years.
“You each have five minutes to look over the instruments, and then the competitors shall go alphabetically to showcase their skill for Their Highnesses. Good luck.”
At this, all the girls rushed forward to inspect the options. Odine allowed herself to be pushed forward, then drifted to the back of the throng. She saw a lute and a lyre on opposite ends of the table, a shawm, a viol, a crumhorn, a lira, a dulcian, and even deflated bagpipes. Nothing rang out to her with inspiration, and cold dread swept more deeply into her veins.
She looked up from the table in front of them to the upper landing, and made eye contact with Dominic. His look was hard, and unflinching - even in response to the worry in Odine’s. The meaning was clear - if you can’t get past this on your own, I can’t help you. The soldier may not have his own strand of rowan berries, but any magic cast would give out energy, and the cheating would be obvious to anyone paying attention in the room. But before Odine looked away, the prince caught her eye as well, and offered an encouraging smile. Feeling some of the lightness from earlier return, Odine went back to her seat with a ghost of a smile on her face.
Gertie was one of the first to perform, being Lady Abbas. She selected a beautiful silver harp, made her way up the staircase, curtsied, and took a seat in a high-backed green velvet chair opposite the royals with all the manners of a lady. She played a gentle melody that perfectly reminded Odine of her friend. It was a soft and calming tune, and Odine allowed the feelings it elicited to wash over her and cover some of her nerves.
The royal family was in quick agreement, and Gertie made her way to the opposite wall, to sit with those moving forward in the competition. Most ladies did - though favoritism was obvious, if not remarked upon. One highborn redhead missed several notes on the flute, but was permitted to pass - while a slightly less attractive and wealthy competitor was dismissed for approximately the same amount of off-key missteps on a hurdy-gurdy.
It may have been what she wanted to see, but Odine could have sworn that Amory looked sorry after each dismissal by the Queen Mary. Still, he didn’t argue when it happened, and the first half of the alphabet went by in what felt like seconds. Soon, Odine was called.
Getting to her feet as steadily as she could muster, Odine approached the instrument table for one last look - then passed by it without selecting anything. A few murmurs broke out from the competitors behind her, and the ones along the wall, but the royals simply stayed silent, watching. The king and queen’s brows furrowed, though both the prince and his captain behind him watched Odine with open curiosity.
As Odine reached the top of the stairs, she approached the royal table and curtsied long and low. As she stood up straight, she swallowed, breathed in deeply, and began to sing.
It wasn’t a long song. She chose a ballad of less than a minute, one about leaving home and the paths ahead. Ones of darkness and shadow, but also light. The ending was ambiguous, fading out on lines that could indicate the narrator’s death, or finding true happiness. It was one written by and for men, but Odine’s voice was much lower than most highborn ladies that turned to singing - who were often only encouraged when they could reach the highest possible notes. Odine couldn’t even get close. So she’d learned to adapt, and found it brought her comfort even after the collapse of her homeland.
Amory, who was clad in a golden and blue doublet which spilled out over the sides of his high red chair, was gazing at her in open admiration. Even Dominic’s cool expression revealed some degree of surprise behind his grey eyes. The king and queen, meanwhile, had furrowed their brows further - the king fingering the familiar amulet that rested against his chest.
“You did not select an instrument,” Queen Mary said moments after the last notes had faded away, and Odine felt her heart drop.
“No, your highness. But the task was to entertain you with a song, and I hope I have achieved that still.”
“One moment,” King Bertram said to Odine as Amory turned to speak to his mother. Odine couldn’t pick up any individual words in the murmuring, but the royal family spoke for what felt like much longer than they had for any of the others.
“All right,” Queen Mary finally said, turning out to face Odine again. “It was technically proficient. You may go.” And she gestured towards the back wall with Gertie and the other competitors who had passed. Heart hammering in overwhelming relief, Odine curtsied again and made her way back.
The rest of the competition passed in a blur. Though one other girl, from a lesser house of the outer kingdom with a squat canine familiar, also took the risk and sang. After only a momentary discussion by the royal family, she was sent home, though Odine would have sworn on her life that the girl wasn’t actually any worse than Odine herself had been. Gertie placed a hand on Odine’s shoulder and squeezed gently, which reminded the northern girl to carefully rearrange her face into its normal calm nonchalance.
Last edited: