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Chapter One
Love can hurt: that is the last lesson of childhood.
— fonatellesOn a bright and frosty morning in Eleventhmoon, Malinda came awake with a start, remembering that this was the second day of her ninth birthweek. She jumped out of bed and opened the door to peer along the corridor at the Blade who sat at the top of the stairs near her mother's door, guarding her as he was bound to do. Blades were all built much the same, lean and nimble, and Queen Godeleva's two were so much alike that Malinda could not be certain from this angle whether she was seeing Sir de Fait or Sir Arundel. It didn't matter in the slightest. What did matter was that he was wearing forest green livery. The Queen's Blades rarely brought out those outfits now, for seven years' exile had left them patched and darned and faded. Their swords were still as sharp as ever, or so they claimed.
Sensing her eyes on him, the Blade closed his book on a finger and turned his head to smile at her. It was Sir de Fait.
"Today?" she said. "He'll come today?"
Yesterday there had been a grand party to celebrate her birthweek. Almost the entire population of the island had packed into the hall, bringing strong odors of sheep and other livestock — not fish, fortunately, for Ness Royal had no port. She had been given wonderful gifts: a gown of golden silk made by Mistress de Fait, a sheepskin bedcover from Lady Arabel, and hundreds of horn buttons, bird nets, wooden whistles, and other things made by the children of the island; gloves and bed socks knitted by their mothers. Remembering the courtly manners Lady Arabel tried so hard toteach her, she had given thanks for every one, even if she did now have about fifty-seven wooden whistles and no use for any of them. Her mother had given her a leather-bound book of poetry she couldn't understand but would when she was older.
Other people's birthweeks were not so honored, but Malinda was Heir Presumptive — as she would happily explain to anyone who did not understand how important that made her — and every year her father the Monster sent her a gift, a very special gift. Last year, it had been a necklace of blood-red garnets; the year before, a clock with a cuckoo that came out to chirp the hours; and before that a cloak of sable, soft as smoke. The cloak was too small for her now, the cuckoo's works had rusted in the damp sea winds, and she was not allowed to wear the necklace outside of Kingstead itself, in case she forgot and went exploring caves or climbing cliffs in it, but the Monster's gift was always the most special part of her birthweek. A Blade came all the way from Greymere Palace in Grandon, three or even four days' hard riding, just to kneel to the Heir Presumptive and proffer her a package and a beautifully lettered scroll, both sealed with the royal signet. She never knew exactly which day the wonderful event would occur, because the roads could be very bad so late in the year and Kingstead's count of the moon might not be exactly the same as Grandon's. But Queen Godeleva's two Blades always knew when the day had arrived. They said it was part of the enchantment that bound them, like the sword stroke through the heart.
Sir de Fait nodded and put a finger to his lips.
"Is Mother awake yet?" Malinda spoke loudly, because she knew that nothing would happen until the Queen was up and dressed.
He frowned and shook his head.
Malinda went back inside, slamming the door. She walked across to the window to scowl out at the blue-green sea — white surf and white birds; the cliffs of the coast fading away into misty distance. She saw no whales, no seals, not even fishing boats.
How long to wait? Her mother's hours were unpredictable. She spent nights and days immersed in spiritual lore, poring over books of spells, corresponding with conjurers in both Chivial and other lands, ever seeking an enchantment to bring back the King's love. Once in a while she would emerge to lecture the world on her misfortunes, and then even Malinda was required to address her as Your Majesty or Your Grace. The price of a cuddle on her mother's knee was listening to yet another tirade on the evil deeds of the Monster. She had gradually come to realize that the price was too high. She was well aware that Mistress de Fait and Lady Arabel had effectively adopted her into their families; the Blades were her fathers, their children her siblings. She was, she supposed, grateful. She certainly could not imagine life without them around.
Deciding she would have time to dress properly later, Malinda pulled on what she had been wearing the previous day, except that she chose shoes with harder soles. Then she went in search of breakfast, skipping noisily past her mother's door.
She had a long way to go, but not because Kingstead was large as royal houses went. It wasn't — it had been put together by joining several buildings into one. She slept up on the cliff top; the hall was down in the hollow, among the trees. Lots of stairs. The moment she entered, Dian de Fait came running to hug her. Dian was Malinda's most special friend. They shared a love of horses, hair-raising exploration, and contempt for authority. They had differences, naturally. Dian tended to plumpness, and was ever eager to hug and cuddle; Malinda was gangling and had to watch her royal dignity. Dian kept one arm around her all the way over to the Queen's table, where Lady Arabel and Mistress de Fait sat, deep in conversation.
Sky of Swords. Copyright © by Dave Duncan. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
