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  Still, the Ten were knowledgeable and had to be handled with every shred of my tact and diplomacy. “What say you, Lord Kloutt?” I asked my uncle, the Minister of the Interior, seated at my right.

  He struggled to his feet and I fancied I could hear the creaking of his arthritic bones beneath his purple-and-gold-embroidered doublet. Poor fellow. He said, “There are some who believe that an alliance with an aristocrat of Shadowlands would strengthen the Royal House and thereby solidify the government.”

  Next to him, Lord Frayn, Minister of the Exchequer, remained silent, but I knew what he wanted.

  I fixed a slight smile on my face. “That is a possibility, of course. There are many noble candidates within the Shadowlands. What say you, General Parlous?”

  Parlous was my Minister of Diplomacy, and I already knew that he favored an alliance with one of the Lords of Darkness, fearing their military might. “The Royal House has long had the complete allegiance of the people, and because of the tragic deaths of Their Majesties, you are an especial favorite.” He faced the others. Middle-aged but vigorous, with iron-gray hair that curled at the collar of his black doublet, he had a sonorous, impressive voice. “The queen is beloved already and the Golden Throne sits on firm ground. I respect the Interior Ministry’s concerns, but there is no need to marry within, and there are many reasons to bring in fresh seed from outside our realm.”

  “Outside,” I said. “That would mean an alliance with either the Darkness or the Light, unless we are so fortunate as to witness a visit from the long-absent Progenitors.”

  Chuckles ran throughout the room, dispelling tension.

  “Past alliances with the prince-scientists of the DesertDwellers have proven fruitful,” stated Caducia of the Health Ministry. She wore healing green, the color affected by all HealthGivers.

  “Their technological prowess could also contribute to the welfare of our people.” This was the opinion of the Education Minister.

  “And there are always those rumors…” said Lady Mercourie, in charge of transportation and communication.

  “I do not put stock in rumor and myth,” Frayn said. “If the Children of Light possess the secret of eternal life, they have not shared it with us during past alliances. I do not believe it.”

  “Nor do I,” Caducia said. “Immortality does not exist.”

  I leaned my chin on one hand, gloved today in orange satin. “But it is true that as time moves on much is lost and forgotten, and we lack the ability to regain the knowledge of the Progenitors or to reinvent their tools and machines,” I said. “The Children of Light excel at such tasks, while we do not, and technology is at an even lower ebb on the Darkside.”

  “But an alliance with the Darkside would bring us many advantages in terms of trade,” said Geoman of the Elements Office. “Their lands are abundant in natural resources that we and the DesertDwellers lack.”

  “We cannot forget that the man selected will not only sit on the Golden Throne, sharing power with Her Majesty, but will be her mate,” Caducia said. “I do not see how a choice can be made without seeing the candidates.”

  “Then it’s decided.” I stood, delighted that at least one of this hidebound group shared my opinion. “Parlous, order our emissaries to the Darkness and the Desert. Invite them to send their best. Lady Caducia, attend me.”

  I swept out, and Caducia followed. Maia, who had sat silently on a stool next to the Throne, scurried in our wake.

  “I wished to thank you for your wisdom and insight,” I told Caducia as we walked.

  An older woman with dark hair webbed with silver, she shrugged and smiled. “It is self-evident. Our ruler’s happiness is paramount. How else can you effectively reign?”

  I remained silent for a moment. “I had thought that I must subvert my own happiness for the good of the people.”

  “The people’s happiness is dependent upon the queen’s joy, for in the Shadowlands the people and their monarchs are one. You felt that already, on your first mating day.”

  “You witnessed the ceremony?”

  “Yes, and your parents’ marriage and first mating as well. The people must be convinced of your contentment and security on the throne with a strong and trustworthy king, or they will lose confidence in the monarchy. And if your house trembles, the Balance will be lost. All of Shadowland—indeed all Janus—will fall, so you must choose well.”

  We reached the dining salon, where we would take the noontime repast. “Sit with me,” I said. “Speak more of your insights, for I am greatly burdened by the significance of my task.”

  “There is little more to say.” Caducia followed me to my seat, set higher than the others. She took the nearest stool, and Maia went to fetch victuals. “It is not my insight but yours that will be crucial. Permit me to speak freely.”

  “Granted.”

  Servants snapped open serviettes, spread them on our laps.

  “Queen Audryn, you are intelligent and deeply feeling. Make no hasty decisions, but at the same time, trust your instincts.”

  Chapter Two

  The first delegation came from Lightside, let by Prince-Scientist Kaldir.

  Late on the day of his arrival, I stood naked in the center of my dressing salon, a graceful room lined with wardrobes painted with woodland scenes and filled with gorgeous gowns and shoes of my design. The room was illuminated by gentle candle- and lamplight. Around me, a score of maids and ladies-in-waiting fluttered, cleansing me, shaving me, perfuming me and finally dressing me for the elaborate state dinner that would welcome the prince-scientist.

  Even though I had occupied the throne for nearly four starturns, I could not become accustomed to this ritual, repeated every day just after the rise of the largest of our three moons—a time we call morning, though truth to say there is little variation in the amount of light emanating from the heavens onto the Shadowlands. Our small and rocky moons reflect little of the sun’s glow onto our realm, nor do they oft interrupt its rays.

  Later I was scrubbed and dressed again before the first of my audiences, and yet again every evening just after the setting of the second moon but before the state dinner that occurred every evening. I also bathed before retiring for the night after the third and last moon set.

  My family’s deaths had heralded the demise of my privacy.

  Chance had left me behind the day they died, because I had fallen ill after eating some berries from the garden that hadn’t passed through Maia’s inspection. Thus Balance had been upset by the workings of Chance. Chance and Balance were of great importance to me, and my mind often dwelt upon them.

  As my ladies primped and fussed, passing scented powderpuffs over my breasts and between my thighs, I sighed and stared out a great glass window of a circular shape. The window was placed precisely in the center of the side wall of the square dressing room, thus continuing the Balance that preserved all.

  A garden attired in eternal twilight and in a thousand somber shades of gray stared back at me, filled with plant life culled from a hundred planets. Some were native to Janus while many others had been brought by the Progenitors some two millennia before—hostas and gardenias, mosses and camellias, gleaming in dusky shades of deep rose and dark red, plus spotted coleus, tenderly scented orchids and many more. Surmounting all were trees specially bred to survive in the band of shadow dividing the dark face of Janus from the Desert, bathed always in the brilliance of our sun.

  Our three moons do not follow a predictable path, so although they shed a little light onto the lands of darkness and shadow, we do not depend upon their random wanderings. They are irregularly shaped, and as their jagged forms turn and twist, they may reflect the rays of our distant sun or at other times appear only as dark lumps in a gray sky.

  Today was one of those times.

  When my ladies had finished polishing my body, Maia took a fine silk chemise from a clothespress and flung it over my head, deftly avoiding my braided coif of dark-blonde hair. The chemise was followed by a
corset and gartered stockings fastened at my thighs.

  Tonight’s brocade gown was draped over a mannequin. Bored with the stiff, wired ruffs fashionable during my parents’ reign, I had instituted new styles. Embroidered in burgundy, gold and blue, the dress featured a heart-shaped neckline that bared my arms, shoulders and décolletage almost to the nipples, below which was a narrow waist and a full skirt with a lavish train. For warmth, I would wear fingerless, elbow-length gloves of golden lace embroidered with burgundy thread. The ensemble was completed by high-heeled slippers with golden buckles. If chilly, I would carry a fur stole.

  While Maia laced my corset, another maid tied a layered petticoat around my waist. I heard a door creak behind me and saw in the cheval mirror that Frayn had entered. Though Maia’s demeanor remained rigidly controlled, I sensed her unease. However, I smiled. Though Maia suspected him of ulterior motives concerning my person, I was unperturbed. His attitude was expected. As I approached mating, the question of my marriage and the succession increasingly weighed on the minds of my people. I knew he wanted me, and wanted to sit on the Golden Throne even more.

  The arrival of the DesertDwellers’ messenger, presaging the embassy of Prince-Scientist Kaldir, had driven Frayn into a manic state. He was at pains to please me constantly, to the extent he was useless as a minister. I did not want an advisor who did not advise but instead agreed with me always. More to the point, my boudoir was constantly filled with his gifts of exotic flowers and fruit. He favored me with the cleverest jokes and newest court gossip. If the situation hadn’t been so stressful, I would have been amused. Juggling the competitors for my hand was a magic trick I had never been taught but was delighted to learn.

  Having tied my petticoat, two ladies-in-waiting lifted my gown from the mannequin and eased it over my head before lacing it up the back. Others placed ruby earbobs in my ears, fastened a hammered gold chain around my neck, slid the gloves over my hands.

  “You should not be here, Frayn,” I said. “The prince-scientist may well conclude that his efforts are in vain and abandon his suit.”

  “If he is so easily discouraged he does not deserve you.”

  Or the Golden Throne, I thought. “But you are not discouraged, are you?” I kept my tone neutral. Behind me, I could hear Maia rustling. She came to my side and handed me a fan. A coronation gift from the Darklords, it had sticks carved from the horns of the taqqa, a beast native to Lands of Night.

  “No—I will never give up.” He offered me his arm and I took it.

  “I have asked Lord Geoman to escort me to Prince-Scientist Kaldir, who will be my dining companion this eve,” I said, moving toward the door. Maia followed us.

  “I’m jealous.” He eyed the fan.

  “Do not fear me, Frayn.” I consciously echoed a statement he had once made to me. “We have always been friends, and I hope always will be, regardless of what other events may transpire.”

  “I had hoped…”

  No, I thought, but said, “The demands of statecraft may overrule the leanings of the heart.”

  Two liveried guards opened the carved wooden doors as I neared, and I saw that Lord Geoman waited in my anteroom. Green-eyed, he wore his brown hair down to his shoulders and was attired in the brown and green of the Elements Office. Thirty starturns old but unmarried, he had sired several sons, all of whom lived in his castle several leagues distant near the largest of our several rivers.

  “My Lord.” Disengaging myself from Frayn, I offered Geoman my hand.

  He kneeled. “My Queen.” He took my hand and kissed it.

  I loved seeing a man on his knees in front of me, especially a good-looking one with his lips at the height of my quim. Would Geoman make a worthy mate? He certainly understood the Shadowlands, its inhabitants, the very soil itself. And he had already proven himself fertile, while Frayn had not, despite frequent liaisons with my ladies-in-waiting as well as with any female who would hold still for long enough.

  “Rise,” I told Geoman.

  He did and I took his arm. Together we walked to the Great Banqueting Hall, with Frayn behind us, accompanying the most attractive of my retinue.

  * * * * *

  The moment I encountered First Scientist Kaldir, elected prince of his realm, I had an eerie feeling that we had already met, that I had seen him somewhere before. That was not possible, for as far as I could remember, I had never seen any DesertDweller, nor had I traveled to Lightside due to the great distances involved as well as the press of my royal duties.

  And I surely would have recalled a meeting with such unusual personages. As Geoman and I drew closer to Kaldir and his delegation, I saw that the Children of Light were small but well-formed, reed-thin with curly reddish or black hair and rich brown skins. Their most prominent features were their large dark eyes and full lips that held a wealth of sensual promise. Quite attractive in a manner that was exotic and enticing. They wore long, flowing robes with loose trousers beneath, all in white. I imagined that their garb was most comfortable in the searing heat of the deserts, but wondered if they might be chilled in the cooler environment of the Shadowlands.

  I extended a hand to Kaldir. “First Scientist,” I said, aware that the DesertDwellers valued intellectual achievement above accidents of birth. Kaldir had not been born a prince but had earned his status as leader.

  Kaldir had unusually high, sharp cheekbones, a bony jaw and keen eyes that smiled into mine. “My Queen.” He kneeled and kissed my hand, his lips stroking my skin. Yes, I thought. Yes.

  And I was pleased by his quick assumption of our customs. “Rise,” I said. “You are an equal and need not bow.”

  “But I humbly seek your approval.” He stood and I saw that we were of a height. That would be good for mating but would not increase the size of our progeny, if any. I wondered if he had offspring.

  “Shall we dine and talk?” I went with him from an anteroom into the Great Banqueting Hall, followed by our servants. Maia was close by me, as usual, arranging my train. My skirts swept the slate floor as we walked. Torchlight glinted off the stone tiles, the jewels of the ladies, the glittering, hard eyes of the courtiers.

  I said, “Your garments appear most attractive, but I fear for your comfort. The palace is made of stone and is not warm as is the desert.”

  He shrugged. “Any discomfort is a small price to pay for attending you.”

  “Well said, but I will arrange for more fuel for the fires within your rooms and extra quilts for your bed and those of your entourage.” I stopped and beckoned to the lady at Frayn’s side to give her the orders. Both she and Frayn looked miffed, but she was present to obey me, not to slake his lust.

  Unlike the Dining Salon, a graceful room trimmed with golden wood and white silk hangings, used for less formal meals, the Great Banqueting Hall was designed and decorated for grandeur, not comfort. ’Twas a huge cavern of a place, and despite the fires roaring in wide hearths set in each wall, despite the many torches lighting the room and warming the air, despite the thick tapestries hung from the stone walls and from massive supporting beams crisscrossing the ceiling, it tended to be chilly.

  Every night, we fed whoever came to the castle requesting sustenance at long polished-wood tables. All castle personnel except the kitchen staff and on-duty guards also ate with us, and the kitchen was always open to all who were working at specified mealtimes, even the musicians and minstrels who played in the upper galleries. Even through lean years I ensured that my people were well fed. Their health and well-being were my paramount concern, and we never stinted on food.

  The sweetness of lute and drum filled the air while the aromas of wood smoke and roasted meats scented it. I led Kaldir to a high table set for the nobles who attended us and we took the two center seats. Raised by a platform, they afforded us a little privacy. Maia took a stool behind us. At formal meals, servants delivered dishes to Maia for her tasting and inspection before I ate.

  I did not trust either my uncle, Lord Kloutt, or his
son, Frayn, who stood next in line to the Golden Throne.

  I eyed the place settings. Cut-crystal goblets with gold trim brimmed with wine and water. Ivory in color, the plates sported a green vine pattern with golden accents round the rims. Bowls sat upon golden chargers with side plates nearby for bread. I had designed the china and selected the evening’s menu—hot, spicy dishes to warm our guests, whom I suspected might feel cold in our realm.

  “Are your accommodations satisfactory?” I asked. I knew that Kaldir and his delegation had arrived a few hours before and had the opportunity to unpack, bathe and rest. “If there is anything we can do—”

  “No, no.” He silenced me with a quick wave of his hand. “We knew that the Shadowlands are cooler than our home, and wove robes of special thread imported from your realm. See?”

  As Maia poured warm wine, he offered me his sleeve for my examination, and I was persuaded to touch his arm. Beneath the fine woolen fabric, his flesh felt muscular, substantial. I was pleased. Below me, I saw nobles, Frayn and Geoman among them, watching us with narrowed eyes.

  “Wool from our sheep?” I asked. “Of what material would your robes normally be—”

  “Linen, cotton or silk,” he said. “We import fabrics from your lands in exchange for labor and technical support.”

  Maia offered pre-dinner dainties—smoked and broiled chunks of wood pheasant with a groundnut sauce. She served each of us two or three on our side plates.

  “I am aware that Lightside has conquered the challenge Janus presents regarding population growth.” I bent my head, hoping to conceal the intensity of my interest, and eyed him flirtatiously from behind my fan. “What is your secret?”

  “A more interesting question is why Janus exhibits its most peculiar configuration.” He nibbled on the pheasant.

  An evasion, but I did not press. If his suit was sincere, I would have plenty of opportunities to probe his secrets. “Has it not always been so? Has not Janus always presented the same face to the sun?”