The footman led Rinka and Idris through a great wooden door into the entrance hall. It was two stories high, with magnificent paintings lining the walls all the way up to the ceilings, which were themselves painted with scenes of humans and elves in dramatic poses and ancient attire. At the end of the room, a grand marble staircase with gilded railings led up into the house beyond.
The footman pressed something on the wall, and somewhere deep within the house, a bell rang. A pair of humans emerged from separate doors, one of them which had looked like a section of wall until it opened.
The butler was a severe man with salt-and-pepper hair and an impeccably tailored coat and tails. An older woman in a black dress and white apron joined him. They spoke quietly with the footman, and then they pressed a different lever on the wall, which rang a different bell.
“Your royal highness,” said the butler, bowing to Idris. “My lady,” he said, bowing to Rinka. “Welcome to Weldan House. I’msorry we weren’t able to greet you. We’ll have your rooms ready at once. Would you like to take a tour of the home while you wait?”
Rinka didn’t know why he was apologizing—it wasn’t as though they had been expected.
“Yes, thank you,” said Idris. “A tour would be nice.”
Another woman in a maid’s uniform arrived through yet another door. She curtsied to them and then spoke to the housekeeper.
The housekeeper brought her over to Rinka. “My lady, this is Ms. Murray. She will attend you while you stay.”
“Right this way, your royal highness. My lady. We’ll start in the drawing room.”
Ms. Murray was young, barely more than a teenager, and human. Her hair was nearly concealed by her white bonnet, but it was red like Rinka’s, and Rinka felt a kinship with her immediately. She, too, had been a young woman working in service, although she had cleaned offices, not houses.
But Rinka remembered what Idris had said, and not wanting to get her in trouble, she kept quiet and followed Ms. Murray as she led them through room after extraordinary room. First was a series of rooms used for entertaining: a drawing room with a number of plush couches and chairs arranged for conversation, a game room with tables set up for cards and a large billiards table, and a music room with a grand pianoforte. Next, they visited a pair of galleries with portraits and busts of previous dukes and duchesses alongside art collected from all over Loegria and the continent. Then they entered the library. It took up an entire wing of the house.
“There are over twenty-thousand volumes here,” said Ms. Murray.
“Quite a collection,” said Idris.
“Yes, your highness. The Marquess has a particular love of books.”
“That sounds like him,” said Idris. “Keir,” he whispered to Rinka.
Ms. Murray led them then into the gardens. There were formal gardens with elaborate hedges arranged in a symmetrical design, casual gardens with tables meant for dining al fresco, and a great green lawn that sloped all the way to the river. There were dozens of people there erecting a great white tent on its banks, undoubtedly for the upcoming festival.
“We’ll take our tea out here,” said Idris. “Picnic style, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course, your highness.”
“Oh, and can you have someone send into town for the tailor? Our trunks were absconded by pirates. Lady Rinka and I have need of new wardrobes.”
“Yes, your highness. Right away, your highness.”
Once she was out of earshot, Rinka turned to Idris and curtsied. “Yes, your highness,” she said. “Whatever you say, your highness. Don’t you ever get tired of hearing it?”
“I’ve heard it all my life,” he said. “I barely notice it at all.”
He led her to a flat bit of lawn in the shade of an oak that was as wide around as a rail-wheeler car. “This will do,” he said.
A group of servants came over to them with a quilted blanket and several trays of sandwiches, bowls of fruit, and a beautiful tea set made from delicate porcelain. They laid it all out for them, even pouring the tea.
Rinka had to stop herself before she thanked them. Idris told her it wasn’t necessary—she’d have to thank them dozens of times a day, and that would get tedious in a way that hearing “your highness” apparently did not.
“Well,” said Idris. “What do you think?” He sat down on the blanket, lounging back to lean his head into the sun.
Rinka joined him, tucking her legs to the side in a way she hoped looked elegant. “It’s beautiful, and it makes me feel a little sick,” she said.
He leaned towards her and took her hand, concerned. “Are you alright? Should I send for…well, I suppose Keir’s the doctor around here.”
“No, I’m not physically ill.” Apart from her racing heart now that he was holding her hand. “But seeing all of this and knowing how people live in Arcas Dyrne. HowIlived in Arcas Dyrne. Well, it’s just a bit depressing.”
“Oh, that,” he said. “Like I said. A monument to human arrogance. Not that this house is unique by any means. And compared to the castle, well, it’s positively provincial. Although I don’t think Father ever bothered to add a billiards table; I’ll admit I’m envious of that.”
