Excerpt: Bloodlines

Chapter 1

“Without beauty, grace, and modesty, a woman is worthless to the world. Without obedience, she is worse than worthless.”
My mother’s icy voice cut through the hum of preparations, bearing me the well-worn words of her favorite advice.
“Yes, Mother,” I murmured, eyes closed as one of the dozens of maids brushed my lids with powder. I felt a tug on my ribs when another one fiddled with my corset. Someone grabbed my shoulders to keep me still as the laces were sharply tightened. The shallow breath in my lungs was driven out in a tiny gasp.
“Hush, Naja.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Well. As I was saying, I have done my best to prepare you for this day, and I hope that you can live by the virtues I’ve worked so hard to instill in you. I can assure you that young lord Cassander will have no patience for a lapse in your behavior, whatever his rude upbringing. You have a responsibility toward every noble line in Rikalia to uphold our standards.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good. Is she almost finished?” She asked the maids. There was a murmur of general consensus, and I opened my eyes as a servant emerged from my closet with the dress. It was a beautiful thing, glitteringly white with wild, black-and-red embroidery in the classic style of Rikalian royalty. I stepped into it, holding still once more as it was slid over my hips and along the line of my back. High gloves were pulled up my arms, my shoulders left bare. Garnet drops were fixed to my ears, and my mother, smiling slightly, unclasped something from around her neck. She tugged it from under her high-necked blouse, and I gasped aloud. For once, she didn’t scold me. The necklace she held out to me was gleaming white gold, with fragments of jet ringing the neckline like pieces of shadow. The pendant was a massive gem so dark a red as to be nearly black. When I took it, it lay in my hands like the heart of some beautiful dream.
“It looks as if it might hatch into a phoenix,” I said softly. “Or a wildfire.”
“Naja.” My mother snapped.
I tore my eyes from the stone, realizing with horror that I’d daydreamed out loud.
“I’m so sorry, Mother,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean—” I broke off at her impatient gesture, flinching backward. Her eyes were lit with a sudden, furious light as she grabbed my arms harshly, leaning in to hiss in my ear.
“You have no concept of the importance of this, you scatterbrained child. For a hundred years we’ve fought to strain the best blood in the kingdom down to one person, and that is you. I don’t care about your little dreams, and neither does anyone else. You will impress Cassander and his court, and you will not bring shame on your ancestors with this horrible little habit of saying exactly what’s on your mind. You were bred for this!”
I swallowed hard, twin lances of humiliation and fear cutting into my stomach as she stepped back, giving me an emotionless smile. I dropped my gaze.
“The pendant matches your hair,” she said calmly, “and the jet, your eyes.” It was a statement of fact, not a complement—the colors are family traits. I fastened it around my neck slowly, fingers clumsy. The gem should have been warm from my mother’s body, but where it rested low on my collarbone it was cold; cold as snow.

I watched my last few things be packed as if in a dream, allowing myself to be ushered downstairs. Halfway out of the house I came to myself a little and reminded Mother that I needed to say goodbye to my father. She waved me off and I let myself into the empty chapel, picking up a small candle from a tray near the entrance and lighting it on the always-lit flame at the front of the church. I placed the light on his small altar, staring up at his portrait on the wall for a long moment.
“Hello, Father.” I said quietly. “I’m leaving today for the capital. I’m going to miss you when I’m there, but I hear that the cathedral in the city is beautiful. Maybe once I’m married they’ll let me make a little place to bring offerings just for you. I’ll burn candles for you even if they don’t. I hope you’ll be able to hear me there. I know you’re always listening.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
“I love you,” I finished at last, brushing my hand against the canvass of the painting. I rejoined my mother outside, kissing her dutifully on the cheek and stepping into the carriage.
It was one of our finest set, the sleek, small, ruby-red coaches we’d had commissioned just the year before. Two of same set were to follow, one loaded with my bags and the other with half a dozen guards. Four of our finest matched grays pulled each carriage. When our coaches returned to the manor they were to have only half so many horses—the other six were part of my dowry. A liveried servant shut the carriage’s door behind me, and in a moment the team surged into motion, pulling away from my home with a rapid clatter of hooves and wooden wheels. Through the expensive glass window I kept my eyes on Mother, standing still and silent in the shadow of the tall manor, until she and it slipped into the distance.
I settled back, examining the carriage’s inside. The bench on which I sat was a glossy ebony, to match the walls and floor. There were no blankets or furs to ward off the spring chill, which surprised me not at all—Mother had reminded me more than once to not risk dirtying or marring my gown. I folded my hands carefully in my lap, barely touching my gown. My wedding gown.
There was nothing else particularly unique about the inside of the carriage, excepting its astonishing cleanliness—the faint damp spots my slippers had left on the floor were the only marks on its slick surface.
I turned my attention out the window, watching the countryside slip by. From the quick staccato beat of the horses’ hooves I could tell they were moving at a fast canter, which explained why we were about to pass the limit of how far I’d ever been from home. There were a few farms outside, but only enough to supply our estate with emergency supplies—the major export of Dionae is swift, finely-bred horses, the envy of our nation. The farms were replaced by wood fences enclosing vast green pastures, and I leaned further into the glass, watching for one of the herds. I spotted one in the distance after a few minutes, many-colored dots flecking the hillsides. I smiled as one started to move toward the carriage, charging down the hillside with abandon. The horse moved faster than I could have believed, galloping toward the carriage as if determined to race it. He was a fiery, muscular chestnut with legs that seemed a mile long. I laughed with delight as he reached our side and slowed to match our pace.
“Only our Dionae stallions, right boy?” I called out. He glanced at me through a dark, intelligent eye half-covered by his forelock and dropped his haunches, sliding to a stop just before the fence line. I laughed aloud, pressing a hand against the window in farewell.
I leaning back against the wall and pulled my pocket watch from my handbag to check it. It was just past one. It’s supposed to be a four hour trip to the capital, but Mother had told me to expect to pass it in nearly half that time—our horses really are exceptional.
True to her promise, the horses never slowed, and we reached the borders of the capital city before my little silver hour-hand had made its way to three. There was a low barrier of pale stone around the city, and I could hear the din from inside like the buzzing of honeybees. We stopped at the gate while city officials came and went from the coaches for a while, and when we proceeded a smartly-dressed mounted officer led the way, clearing the streets of traffic. The people lined each side of the road in a thick banner, pointing at me and watching with excitement. Children ran alongside us, shrieking above the din and waving up at me. I shrunk into my seat a little and closed a curtain over the window with relief.
We clattered through the streets for what seemed like ages, until finally the din receded behind us. When I dared to look outside again, I saw that we had passed through the tall white walls of the city’s keep. I looked ahead. The road we were on extended ahead for some distance, snaking over the grounds.
I looked up at the keep and felt my heart skip a beat. It was huge, larger than any building I’d ever seen before. In form it was graceless and powerful, built from gray stone like a storm brought to earth. Around the battlements flew the same red banner, long strips of blood-toned cloth that danced in the wind.
We reached the keep too soon, and the coach pulled to a halt in front of a neat formation of soldiers in the crisp black-and-red uniform of Rikalia’s infantry. I checked the pocket watch one last time and tucked it my handbag, smoothing the straps nervously. I heard the coachman’s hand on the door and took one last deep breath before he opened it.
“Milday,” he said, offering a polite hand. I took it and lowered myself carefully from the carriage. The man bowed to me and began to turn away, but I laid a finger on his sleeve.
“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t know him, but I already felt a pang of homesickness when I looked at those ranks of soldiers, not one with the copper hair of our Dionae peasantry.
“Of course, Milady.” He bowed his head politely, and I released him. I turned away from the carriages as they clattered into motion, eyeing the silent lines. What now? What was I supposed to do? Not make a speech, surely, but they must be expecting some sort of cue. I had no idea what to do, and no possible advisor was stepping forward. My mother’s words echoed unexpectedly in my head.
You were bred for this.
I stepped forward. In perfect unison two columns pivoted, moving back between their neighbors so that a pathway was formed for me to walk. I continued toward them. They raised their swords, crossing them above the space into a gleaming arch, and I could have kicked myself. Their sabers were too low; I couldn’t possibly walk under them. They were a barrier, meant to block my progress, and I had to idea how to proceed. I halted in front of the weapons. Everything was totally silent, totally still. Beyond the fence of steel I could see the tall, dark doors of the keep. There were two doormen waiting, and between them, a priest. I closed my eyes, opened them, and nodded at the soldiers on either side of me in turn. With a metallic sliding sound, they angled their swords higher, and I started to walk again, my pulse pounding in my skull. Ahead of me, each set of soldiers duplicated the motion, and behind me, I could hear them closing down the pathway again.
I reached the priest at last, feeling like I’d been through a trial by fire.
“Good morning,” he said to me as the doormen opened the vast entry. “I am Father Korban.”
“Hello, Father,” I murmured. We each bowed slightly to one another. He was the representative of God, and should probably have shown me less respect, but it happens to me occasionally, in deference to my blood. Also, he was young, and even priests are still men around women in beautiful dresses.
“Please, follow me.” He said, stepping into the keep. “Your ride was pleasant, I hope?”
“Yes, very pleasant.” I would have commented on the beauty of the landscape, or the swiftness of the journey, but Dionae lands and horses were responsible for both, so I glanced around the inside of the keep for something to add. We were in the Great Hall, I assumed, but it wasn’t a space designed for beauty. At home the walls were of polished marble, gilded and hung with glittering tapestries. Here the walls were of stone, dim and rough, with columns jutting up throughout the hall to support the high ceiling.
“What interesting architecture,” I said mildly.