Chapter 7: 7 Way Cool, My Mom Can Do Magic!

On my second birthday- the first was not marked or even mentioned to me- my mother presented me to Her Highness The Fourth Princess.

Griselda brought me, of course, but once I was in my mother’s bedroom for the first time I could remember, that lady dressed me up in six layers of cloth and tortured my hair into a hairstyle that closely matched her own.

“These clothes are ridiculous.” I opined clearly. “How long did this lace even take to make?” I plucked at the large flat lace collar around my neck. Surprisingly it didn’t itch and it was very soft. I peered at it closely. As fine as the thread was, it was two ply.

Mother smiled. “About three hours.” She winked. “I’ll show you how I do it if you’re polite to the princess.”

I squinted. “I’m about to meet a princess?”

“My patroness. I’m her senior lady in waiting. I’ve known her since we both were six years old.”

“Oh.” I considered that. “Do I have to wear the shoes? They pinch. These skirts are so long nobody will even see my feet.”

“I will measure your feet before I make new ones, but you cannot attend a major imperial court barefoot.” Mother said with stern finality.

“I wouldn’t be barefoot.” I argued. “I would have these very nice stockings on. Did you make them too?”

“I personally made everything you are wearing.” My mother confirmed. “It’s traditional.”

“Oh.”

“Is she always like this?” Mother looked at Griselda who smiled fondly. “Yes, milady.”

“Oh my.”

“She reads too, and writes tolerably, although she might do better with pen and ink.”

“I will look into getting her some colored wax sticks and paper.” Mother said faintly. “What do you think about that, Miranda? Colors and paper if you are polite at court?”

I nodded. “I won’t even pull off my shoes.” I promised solemnly.

Mother personally carried me out of her room and into the imperial suite. Griselda followed us to the doors and waited outside with a gaggle of other servants.

Apparently it was bring your child to work day, because half of the ladies in the room were ineptly attempting to corral children between two and six years old. The six year old boy in the corner was the worst. He was loud and sulky. “I don’t even want to be here, this is a baby party.” He said several times, while his mother didn’t say anything.

I didn’t recognize him, but I did recognize most of the other children. They were frequently in the toddle garden at the same time I was.

I wouldn’t go so far as to claim we were friends. After all, we were roughly two years old and each trailed faithfully by a nursemaid.

I did not motion or ask to get down, even though several children were walking around. I cuddled sedately in my mother’s arms and answered her questions.

Most of the interrogation was about what I liked to do. I expressed my wishes to visit a library and to receive weapons training. She did not commit.

Suddenly all the mothers corralled their children as an odd knock sounded and the double doors opened. Most of the kids were picked up. Not the surly boy in the corner, whose mother was busily pushing him front and center.

I barely noticed that the rest of the crowd was clustered across the room from mother and me.

The knock came again, as a man tapped a staff on the floor three times. “Her Highness Gloriana Fourth Princess of Salrovia.”

The woman who walked into the room was dressed to match exactly what I was wearing, down to the patten on the lace. It was surreal. If I was going to be a mini me, why her and not my own mother?

Mother curtsied holding me, which felt alarming. She wasn’t used to holding me, after all.

The princess was quite young, still a teenager. I’m not sure why that surprised me quite so much, but it did. She was beautiful too, and she looked kindly at me.

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“Lady Krisana, introduce me to this charming young lady with the impeccable fashion sense.” The princess teased with a smile.

“My lady patroness, may I present my daughter, my firstborn, Lady Miranda de’Isla y Yarin.”

“Why yes, pleased to meet you, pretty one.”

“It is my great honor to meet you, your highness.”

“You must call me Glory as your mother does. Aunt Glory, I think.”

“As her highness wishes, Aunt Glory.” I nodded regally.

“Oh my goodness, Krisana. How long did you spend coaching her. May I?” She held her arms out to hold me. I held mine up to signal I was willing.

“Oh this wasn’t my doing at all. Her nurse must have.” Mother gave me over to her friend, employer and patroness.

“Very well. To the south lawn, everyone. That is where the luncheon is set up.” The princess pointed towards the door and led the parade, well, except for her herald and a pair of guards.

The herald stood at the door and announced the entry of each pair of guests. The nurses filed in behind us, unheralded.

Three of my playground companions were imperial family members. Two princes and a princess. Their mothers were all princess consorts.

I was seated between the princess at the head of the table and the surly boy, Viscount Trevor d’Drakeholm. His mother was on his right and mine was across the table, also next to her highness.

Trevor crossed his arms and sulked until the first food was presented. I was in a high chair, something completely novel. Griselda had begun introducing solid foods a year before but she had always set my plate on the floor and later on a low table I could sit beside on a cushion.

Griselda attended me here. As did the other nurses, cutting up food and so forth.

I eagerly showed off my agility with a fork and spoon. Her Highness was speaking to my mother, so I turned to the unpleasant Viscount.

“Do you and I have to be introduced before we can talk?” I asked him.

He looked at me oddly. “Why? The herald announced us, didn’t he?”

“I suppose he did. How do you like this salad? I’m unfamiliar with it. Seems fishy to me.” Alas, that idiom does not translate.

“Shellfish.” He said, taking a huge bite and speaking as he chewed. He seemed to concentrate. “Scallop, I think, maybe crab too?”

“Well spotted, young lord.” Her highness said with a twinkle in her eye. “A bit of shrimp too, the tiny ones.” She turned back to mother. “See? They like each other already.”

I ate my appetizer delicately. It was delicious. Not something I would have served at a child’s birthday party, but whatever. Maybe shellfish allergies were unheard of here.

The next course was steak for the adults and meatballs for the children. Trevor complained about how much he loved steak and his mother fed him most of hers. Then there was a boiled vegetables dish and finally a confection that seemed to be mostly whipped cream and meringues.

I tried repeatedly to engage Trevor in conversation, but he responded to my questions and comments with as few words as he thought he could get away with.

Games had been set up on the lawn, although they seemed almost more intended for the parents than the children. A form of bowling, a ritualized game of catch with a dodgeball sized ball, a fake fishing game with plushie fish as prizes. Mostly the mothers pretended to help their little angels through the games, but the hovering nursemaids stepped in if tears ensued.

The archery station did have some bows small enough for a child to draw, but I was still a terrible shot. In fact, I overshot the target and hit the garden wall in the distance. At least my draw strength was impressive.

“Look at that, Krissy. Your girl might turn out to be a warrior. Watch out, Trevor, or she’ll beat you in a tournament one day.”

Something finally clicked in my head. I had allowed myself to be betrothed at birth. It was one of the choices, and something else on the board had locked it in place. I wasn’t even sure what.

Trevor must be my betrothed.

I did not ask and nobody told me.

After the party, mother took me back to her room. There she treated me to a demonstration of her magic.

She set up a bobbin lace cushion, a simple one with a simple pattern. Then she sang to the bobbins and they danced through the air, while she set pins in the cushion as quickly as she could.

I looked at the pattern when she was done. It was a bookmark sized bit of lace with a long stemmed flower and long droopy leaves. Not a rose, but definitely a flower.

The pattern had the song written to the side with letters and what I assumed were musical notations since they were no runes I ever saw.

She let me watch while she knotted the fringe end.

“So you see, my dearest love.” Mother said, taking the pins out. “Mundane arts and movements can become spells if you train your skills high enough. Everyone whose system awakens, which is all nobles and the majority of the crafter class, can train their skills and attributes into magical skills and attributes.

Since your father and I both have the System, and have on both sides for as long as our families record their histories, you will also have a system. Some day you will do amazing, fantastical things too.”

I nodded solemnly and took the little scrap of lace when she trimmed the fringe and handed it to me.

“The trick is to choose things you want to be good at before you even awaken the system in your soul. Everything you do between now and your twelfth birthday will shape and change your initial system status. Now. Don’t think too hard about that now. You’re a little young for even that much of a lecture. That’s ten years away.”

Mother dropped that conversation entirely and helped me set up and start a much simpler lace pattern with twelve bobbins instead of the dozens she’d used.

She had wound a chunky but smooth yarn on the bobbins for my first attempt. It was fun, tiresome but fun. I did not anticipate practicing this lacework style long enough to develop the magic versions of the skill.

I did have previous skills in yarn crafts. That church that did the camp clinics was huge on handicrafts. I learned to knit, crochet and weave potholders. I remembered how to do all three and I used to make doilies and crochet flowers for fun.