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Before the death of her father, grandfather, and uncles, Mireän Drazhin had been young enough and distant from the throne enough that her life was a matter of court gossip, not court business. By her tenth birthday, however, she was the sister of the Emperor's heir, and there was no escaping a court dinner.
At first, she was excited. Idra said it would be a big party just for her, and Mer Atterezh came to measure her for a new dress, and Aunt Vedero promised to sit on the other side of Idra and tell them stories about all the people there. Idra had been going to court dinners sometimes since he was ten, but only sometimes, since court dinners were served late. When the dress arrived, pale blue with hints of silver near the cuffs to show she was Drazhada, she and Ino were so excited Suler nearly had to raise her voice to get them to calm down enough that she could try it on. The silk skirt rustled and swished around her legs, and the ribbons on the bodice made her feel very grown up.
But the closer the dinner came, the more nervous she got. It was a lump in her stomach that got bigger and bigger, and she tried to ignore it, she tried to enjoy her birthday breakfast with Idra and Ino, she tried to be excited about getting dressed, but the lump was very, very big, and she felt very small.
"There now," Suler said warmly, doing up the back of the dress for her. "What a beautiful dach'os'min you are today. Would you like beads or combs in your hair?"
Mireän pointed wordlessly to the lacquered comb with flowers on it that Great-Aunt Arbelan had given her this morning. She thought that if she opened her mouth, the great big lump might stop her speaking at all, or maybe she'd start crying, and she thought that if she started she wouldn't stop, and then she'd be a Disgrace To The Family in court. Mama used to give them such dreadful talks about being a Disgrace To The Family, back before she tried to hurt Cousin Maia and then she was a Disgrace, but Cousin Maia was so nice that he didn't blame any of them or send any of them out of sight, not even Idra, and Mireän didn't want to be a Disgrace to Idra or Cousin Maia, so maybe if she just kept her mouth closed and didn't speak, then she wouldn't start crying and it would all be fine.
And then someone knocked on the door, and it was Idra, and he was all dressed up and coming to see if she was ready, so Mireän got up and tried to smile at him and look elegant and composed like Aunt Vedero always did, and Idra gave her a worried look, but they were almost out of time. So he bowed to her like in their dancing lessons, and she took his arm, and tried not to think about how Papa was the one who escorted Idra to his first court dinner, and she took deep breaths like Leila Athmaza had showed them, and they went down to the gates of the Alcethmeret.
Cousin Maia was there, with Cousin Csethiro and Aunt Vedero and Great-Aunt Arbelan. Aunt Vedero gave a strange little frown when she saw them, and for a moment Mireän thought she'd done something wrong already, but Aunt Vedero simply knelt down and adjusted one of the ribbons on her dress. "You will sit between His Serenity and Idra, and we will be next to Idra, and Aunt Arbelan will be just one down from Csethiro," she said quietly. "Lord Berenar will sit between Csethiro and Aunt Arbelan - do you remember him from family dinners?"
Mireän nodded, biting her lip. Cousin Maia liked Lord Berenar, and Idra liked him too.
"Then everyone you are sitting near is someone you know," Aunt Vedero reassured her. "At the beginning of dinner, His Serenity will say a few words to everyone, and people will look at you, but all you need to do is behave politely and eat neatly until it's time to leave."
The lump eased a little bit, and Mireän started to think that maybe she could eat at dinner, even if she couldn't speak properly. "...Thank you, Aunt Vedero," she whispered.
Aunt Vedero smiled softly and took a gold ring from her pinky finger. "When we were young and nervous sometimes, your papa gave us this," she said, holding it out.
Mireän looked closer, and said in surprise, "It has a lion on it!"
"It does," Aunt Vedero agreed. She leaned in like she was sharing a secret. "I used to pretend it could come to life and roar at people like in a wonder-tale, only once it got out of the ring, it would be very hard to get it back in. So I would say to myself, 'do I really need my lion?'."
"And then you weren't scared anymore?" Mireän asked hopefully.
"And then if I felt I did need my lion, I found one of my brothers or my parents to help me," Aunt Vedero said. "Which is just what thou ought to do, if thou art frightened or distressed. Find one of us, and tell us, and we will help thee.”
The lump was even smaller now, like a block of ice that had started to melt in the sun. “Yes, Aunt Vedero,” Mireän said.
Aunt Vedero took her hand, and slipped the ring onto her thumb, and Mireän looked down at the lion and felt better. She had a lion ring now that had been from her papa, and she had her aunts and her brother and Cousin Maia. She would be brave and polite and neat and a Respectable Dach’os’min, and then she would come home to the nursery and it would be over.
The dinner was very long and there were a lot of people, and at first Mireän kept thinking they were all staring at her, and then Cousin Maia leaned over and murmured, “We are sorry you must endure so much attention by sitting next to us,” and she realised that they were probably looking at the Emperor at least as much as they were looking at her. So she did manage to eat a little, and she didn’t do anything embarrassing or disgraceful or not-respectable, even when she was very tired and bored, and at last they got to leave.
Great-Aunt Arbelan told her happy birthday and that she’d done well, and Aunt Vedero smiled at her and squeezed her hand when she said goodnight, and Aunt Csethiro said she knew Mireän probably wanted to get the combs and beads out of her hair so she wouldn’t keep them, but she would ask the cooks to send up hot chocolate and biscuits to celebrate her first court appearance, and then it was just Mireän and Idra and Cousin Maia (and Cousin Maia’s nohecharei).
Cousin Maia walked them back to the nursery, thinking about something. Cousin Maia was often thinking about something, which Idra said was the sign of a good ruler and Ino secretly thought was boring, but Mireän liked it, because often when Cousin Maia thought hard about something, he decided to do something surprising and wonderful.
When they reached the nursery, Cousin Maia said carefully, “We are glad to have shown you to our court, but such dinners do not always make good gifts, especially as your sister could not attend. Would you…” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps tomorrow you could have a private birthday supper with your siblings and Min Zhavanin.”
Mireän’s ears pricked up and she turned to Idra. “Can we?” she begged. “Just us and Suler and Leilis and Cousin Maia?”
Idra smiled gently at her. “Cousin Maia may be busy,” he said. “But the rest of us can.”
It was too much, that one disappointment after a whole night of trying so hard to be a Respectable Dach’os’min, and Mireän felt her eyes fill with tears. “But Cousin Maia has to come!” she insisted. “It’s his idea!”
Idra tried to say something, but Mireän didn’t want to listen to him anymore, so she turned to Cousin Maia and bit her tongue so she didn’t say anything rude and wished and wished , and then Cousin Maia dropped to one knee and said, “An you desire our presence at your birthday supper, we will be honoured to come,” and Mireän’s breath went out in a big whoosh and she didn’t feel like crying anymore, but she did feel very, very tired.
“Thank you, Cousin Maia,” she said softly.
He smiled at her, the quiet little smile he had sometimes when he was pleased and didn’t mind people knowing it. “We will not keep you from your sleep any longer,” he said. “Pleasant dreams, michen. We will see you for supper tomorrow.”
The next morning, Suler got a letter from Mer Aisava, but she didn’t show it to anyone, and Mireän had to wait all day to find out what was going to happen at supper. She didn’t even tell them then , she just helped her and Ino put on their riding clothes instead of dressing properly for supper, and Mireän wanted to know , but Suler kept saying it was a surprise, and Mireän thought she was going to explode into a cloud of butterflies like Osmin Salzho in The Meadows of Thenoree.
Finally , Cousin Maia arrived, just him and his nohecharei, and he was wearing riding clothes too, except not the boots, and ribbons in his hair instead of gems, and only four rings! And he was carrying a basket on his arm, and Mireän had never seen him carry anything before.
“Cousin Maia!” she exclaimed. Idra gave her a Look, and she pressed her lips together and bowed properly. “Good-evening-Cousin-Maia-we-are-honoured-to-have-you-join-us-for-supper,” she said in a rush. “Only the dinner table’s not set and Suler said that was what you wanted so where are we going to eat?”
Cousin Maia smiled at her, a new, excited sort of smile, and bent down to tell her, “We’re going to have a picnic around the hearth in your sitting room.”
Mireän’s mouth dropped open, and Ino clapped her hands in glee. “Are we going to sit on the floor? Is that why we’re in our riding clothes? What are we going to eat? Is it in that basket? Is it something you ate at Edonomee?”
Cousin Maia’s smile looked a little strange for a moment, but he nodded at Ino, and gently suggested they all move to the sitting room. Leilis was waiting for them there, and he’d put out cushions on the rug near the hearth, and there was a jug of water and cups and plates for all of them, but no cutlery, which seemed strange until Cousin Maia opened his basket and started pulling out bread and cheese.
“Are we only eating bread and cheese?” Mireän said plaintively, looking at Suler. It didn’t seem like much dinner, and it wasn’t special at all. Bread and cheese was what guards ate when they couldn’t leave their posts to get a proper meal. Idra nudged her, a silent reminder to be polite, and she tried to rearrange her expression so she didn’t look too disappointed.
Cousin Maia paused, looking down at his hands as he put a piece of bread on a strange long fork thing. “We thought you might enjoy cooking supper for yourself,” he said quietly. “It is something we enjoyed, when we were young, as a birthday treat.”
“It sounds like fun,” Idra said firmly, settling cross-legged on the floor. “Can you show us how?”
Cousin Maia toasted a piece of bread and cheese each for Mireän and Ino and Idra and himself before passing the toasting fork to Suler. At the edge of the hearth, the bread browned and the cheese melted, and Cousin Maia insisted the correct way to eat it was with their hands, so the cheese dripped on their fingers and they got crumbs on their dresses and Mireän was very glad Suler had given everyone napkins to protect their clothes. Even though it was just bread and cheese, it was special, and fun, and even with Cala Athmaza and Lieutenant Beshelar watching them, it didn’t feel like Maia was the Emperor at all, which was so strange it was almost like a maz was over them.
When they were all full (and Mireän was starting to feel a bit sleepy), Cousin Maia put the toasting fork away and leaned back against the legs of a chair. He looked like maybe he was sleepy too, his face all soft and relaxed.
“If we may ask,” Idra said thoughtfully, “how old were you when you first did this?”
Cousin Maia smiled at him. “We were not permitted to hold the toasting fork until we were eight, and only with our mother right beside us,” he murmured. “But…our memories are not entirely clear when the tradition began. We were very young.”
Nobody spoke, but it wasn’t like they were waiting or disagreeing - it felt like they were all being quiet together.
“Our birthday, as you know, is on Winternight,” Cousin Maia said, looking into the fire. “Our mother liked to give the servants an evening to celebrate, and give us an evening with only her, when we need not be anyone but Chenelo and Maia.”
It sounded nice. Mama would never have thought that a night without servants was a good gift, but if Cousin Maia’s mama was like him, Mireän could imagine them enjoying the quiet.
“We would sit in her lap by the fire as she cooked for us,” he murmured. “Even when she was ill, when the cheese was too rich for her, she helped me cook for myself.” He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over his signet ring, and Mireän bit her lip.
Ino was too sleepy. Idra was too worried about overstepping. Cala Athmaza and Lieutenant Beshelar were on duty, and Leilis and Suler weren’t close enough for informality. It would have to be her job.
She stood, and went over to Cousin Maia, and wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “We are sorry for your loss,” she said, the words she had heard so many times after Papa died. “Thank you for sharing your memories of - of Aunt Chenelo with us.”
Cousin Maia didn’t seem sure what to do about being hugged, but Lieutenant Beshelar looked pleased, so Mireän knew she had done the right thing.
“..thank thee,” Cousin Maia said quietly, leaning into her. “I didn’t mean to sadden thy birthday supper.”
Mireän shook her head. “Thank thee, Cousin Maia,” she told him firmly. “I am glad to hear about my aunt.”
Not long after Great-Aunt Arbelan had returned to court, she had come to visit Mireän and Ino and Idra and had decided that Mireän and Ino needed to be better prepared for life as Archduchesses of the Drazhada. So, three times a week, Mireän and Ino visited her apartments and had afternoon tea with her and Aunt Vedero. After Aunt Csethiro married Cousin Maia, she came along too, and the five of them would drink tea and eat biscuits and talk about women’s business, and it made Mireän feel very grown up.
The first afternoon tea after Mireän’s birthday, as soon as the serving maid had left, Aunt Csethiro knelt down in front of Mireän and pulled her into a long, tight hug.
“Thank thee,” she said fervently. “Maia never talks about his mother, and it has been quite beyond us to encourage him. We know so little of how to make him comfortable, but he came home from your supper…very happy.”
“Thou’rt welcome, Aunt Csethiro,” Mireän replied, bewildered.
Aunt Csethiro pulled back and schooled her expression until she looked more normal. “We are sorry to confuse you,” she said, which she must have seen on Mireän’s face. “We simply wished to thank you for your kindness to our husband.”
That still didn’t make a lot of sense, but Mireän acknowledged her thanks and they returned to their usual afternoon tea routine. Still, she found herself thinking about what Aunt Csethiro had said. It was not so strange to be kind to Cousin Maia, was it? He was the Emperor, everyone had to be nice to him.
But maybe being nice to the Emperor and being kind to Cousin Maia weren’t the same. Like the girls who had kept their distance from her when Mama was a Disgrace to the Family, and then tried to pretend they were intimate friends when Cousin Maia started making appearances with Idra.
Well. In that case, all she had to do was treat Cousin Maia as a cousin that she liked and considered close family, which was easy, because she did.
Mireän could do that.