When her tears had run dry, she wiped her face on her skirt and stood. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and placed a kiss on the hand of her mother’s statue, silently bidding her goodbye.
The sound of carriage wheels crunching over gravel caught her attention as she crossed the gardens towards the house. She remembered her father telling them over breakfast that Lady Fiona would be visiting today, and her heart sank like a stone. She didn’t want to learn proper etiquette, her manners were perfect as they were, thank you very much. She may not havehad a mother for the past six years, but she hadn’t exactly been raised by wolves.
And if she was honest, she didn’t really want to find a suitor. Why couldn’t she rule the Golden Isle alone? Why must a queen be married before her coronation, but a king could rule with no wife? It wasn’t fair that the male heirs were free to find their own love match, but female heirs were married off to the princes of other kingdoms in order to form alliances and strengthen international relations.
If she had her way, she would change the laws that treated men and women differently and make things better for future generations of princesses. But she would need to become queen first. And for that, she needed a husband. It was a vicious circle.
Gritting her teeth and preparing her brightest fake smile, Issy trudged back towards the palace, where a carriage she didn’t recognise stood at the bottom of the stone steps. And a tall, slender man she did recognise was embracing her father.
“Uncle Santiago!” She ran the last few metres and threw her arms around her favourite uncle, almost knocking him off his feet. Santiago laughed, squeezing Issy tightly.
The doors opened then, and Livia appeared. “Uncle!” She darted down the steps and joined the family hug. “We didn’t know you were coming.”
Santiago released his nieces and ran a hand through his rapidly greying, but lusciously thick head of hair. “Ah, well, it was a last-minute decision. I just couldn’t bear another day without seeing my two favourite girls. Or young women, should I say?” He took a step back to admire them at arm’s length. “Look at you both, your mother would be so proud.” His smile didn’t falter, but Issy saw the shimmer of tears lining her uncle’s blue eyes behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Did you bring us anything?” Livia asked, and Issy’s jaw dropped.
“Livia!” She hissed at her sister. But their uncle only laughed that rich, warm laugh she remembered so well.
“Have I ever been known to arrive empty handed?” He gestured to the footman, who had opened the carriage door and begun unloading Santiago’s luggage. The fair-haired young man nodded and took up two exquisitely wrapped gift boxes, handing them to Santiago. “Thank you. Now, which one is which?” He held them out, crossing his arms over and under, pretending to have forgotten.
Livia bounced on the balls of her feet. “Is mine the biggest one?”
Their uncle chuckled. “Oddly enough, it is, yes. Here you are, Livia, my dear.” He handed the larger box to Liv, who tore off the cerise bow and lifted the lid with a squeal.
“Nina!” She dropped the box and held the stuffed cat to her chest. It was an almost perfect replica of her calico cat, who appeared from the palace doors as if by magic and wound around Livia’s ankles. “Don’t worry, Nina, she’s not a replacement.” She bent down to scratch the cat behind the ears, eliciting a satisfied purr.
“Here,” said Uncle Iago quietly, holding the smaller box out to Issy. “This is for you.”
Issy grinned and untied the turquoise ribbon. She was touched that their uncle had remembered each of their favourite colours. It had been a few months since his last visit, but he always brought them some trinket or treasure to show he’d been thinking about them on his travels.
Lifting the lid, Issy let out a gasp. She took the small, oval brooch out of the box and held it in her palm. It was a hand painted cameo of her mother, when she’d been around Issy’s age. If it hadn’t been for the blue eyes, Issy would have thought it was a painting of herself.
She looked up at her uncle, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, uncle.”
Iago swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I found it among some of my things, I believe it was painted when Idalia was sixteen, to be given to a potential suitor. I thought, with your eighteenth birthday soon, and everything that comes after, you’d appreciate having something of your mother’s. To remind you who you are, and what a line of strong, courageous women you come from.”
Issy swiped at her eyes and hugged her uncle again.
After a moment, her father put a hand on her shoulder. “Come, now. Let’s allow Santiago to get settled in and send the carriage on its way.”
“It isn’t your carriage, uncle?” Livia asked, brow furrowed.
Iago laughed lightly. “Oh, no, this one is a carriage for hire. I left mine back in Cicera, it needed a fresh coat of paint. Now, then. Shall we call for some tea and sandwiches?” He put an arm around each of his nieces’ shoulders and began to guide them inside, but they all turned as the sound of hooves came from the gate. A second carriage was pulling into the palace grounds.
“Ah. That will be Lady Fiona,” Issy’s father said, and her stomach plummeted. She’d forgotten about Lady Fiona for a moment, in the excitement of seeing her uncle. She saw her father take out a small coin pouch and hand it to the carriage driver who had delivered Iago, who nodded his gratitude before snapping the reins and steering the horses out of the gate, just as the second, grander carriage pulled up to the palace steps.
The footman opened the door and held out an arm to assist Lady Fiona in climbing down. Her hooped skirts caught in the doorway, and she had to gather them in a hand to squeeze through. The lemon-yellow gown with red rose buds at each gathering of material had been the height of fashion a few seasons ago. As she ducked out of the carriage and straightened,Issy noticed Lady Fiona’s cosmetics were a little too heavy, her dark hair just a touch over-styled. As though she were desperate to impress. It would have been endearing, if Issy wasn’t furious about why she was here. Just because the lady had no daughters of her own didn’t give her the right to start trying to mother Issy and Livia, they’d managed very well without her so far.
“Lady Fiona,” Issy’s father said. “Welcome, thank you for coming.”
The lady bobbed a neat curtsy, and Issy was surprised by how young she appeared—only ten or twelve years older than Issy herself. And a widow already. Her husband, Lord Valdes, had been killed a year earlier when he’d been thrown from his horse during a hunting expedition.
“It’s my pleasure, Your Majesty. Whatever I can do to assist you and your lovely daughters.” She smiled wide, showing slightly crooked teeth.
A bundle of brown fur launched out of the carriage with a volley of barks, and Nina screeched before darting back into the palace, pursued by Lady Fiona’s lapdog.
“Zorro! Play nice.” She called after the hairy cannon ball but didn’t make any effort to chase or catch the creature.
