A Posse of Princesses by Sherwood Smith

struggle,
suppressed some fairly heated comments, other than a muttered,
“Carithe is almost eighteen.”
    Rhis bit her lip, thinking rapidly about
plays. “ The Golden Throne was written in compliment to Queen
Briath’s family some time back, so it might seem like the proper
choice,” she finally admitted.
    Shera sighed. “That’s what Iardith said—” She
paused, staring in surprise at Dandiar.
    Dandiar pinched his nose and groaned. “That
pompous and boring play has been dragged out every time someone at
court wants something,” he said. “Let me tell you a secret: The
royal family is sick of it. Very sick of it. Lios will want to run
and hide if he has to sit through one more of those long
speeches.”
    Rhis laughed. “I wasn’t going to say that,
but it really is pretty awful. Of course a good performer might
make it more bearable.”
    “Oh, it’s written competently, but it’s so
full of blandishments it’s like making a meal of cakes and nothing
else. Honey cakes. Sticky-sweet honey cakes,” Dandiar added, seeing
Shera’s puzzlement.
    Shera’s brow cleared. “Euw. I see!”
    “So you’ve read it, I gather,” Dandiar said
to Rhis.
    She said, “I’ve read lots of plays. And
histories. Not much else to do in Nym, to tell the truth.”
    “You said you avoided learning.”
    Rhis laughed. “About trade laws and taxes and
who the king of Arpalon is squabbling with now, and why. I like
plays.” She turned to Shera. “So what is the problem? You need
people for a vote?”
    Shera tossed her ringlets back. “No, we all
agreed to it, for it did sound like the right thing, but then the
room was full of her own friends, and before I quite knew what was
happening, Hanssa said, Oh, but you will be the best Queen
Arilde , and Iardith was smirking and pretending to be modest,
but before anyone else could speak, she said, real quick, Who
better to play his great-great-great grandfather than Lios? And
you, Hanssa, can be Princess Gaela . . . And right like that
she was giving out all the parts,” Shera finished, her voice
uneven, her eyes filled with tears of rage. “Though she did
condescend to give me a tiny role as the chambermaid who finds the
hidden crown, it’s all spoilt.”
    Rhis sighed. “I don’t know what I can do. By
now she’s given out all the roles.”
    “That wasn’t the worst.” Shera heaved a
dramatic sigh. “ Then she looked around, and when everyone
was talking, she said to that little princess with the difficult
name and the gold hair—”
    “Yuzhyu,” Rhis said.
    “Lios’s cousin—that’s the one.” Shera nodded.
“I think Iardith is mad because Lios shows her so much attention.
Anyway when the others were talking, Iardith said to her in this
spun-sugar voice, I’m sorry, my dear, but plays have to be
spoken by people who can actually be understood . Yuzhyu didn’t
say anything, but you should have seen her eyes. So I ran out to
find you.”
    Rhis scarcely heard the last words. An idea
had occurred to her. She rubbed her hands. “Oh! I have the nackiest
notion! Come on!”
    “May I come watch?” Dandiar asked.
    Rhis glanced over her shoulder in surprise.
“Of course!” She laughed. “Besides, you really ought to be there,
because you gave me the idea.”
    “I did?” Dandiar asked, looking about as if
he expected to find his idea written on the air.
    Rhis didn’t answer. She sped up the walk to
the palace, the other two on either side.
    They arrived at the library, which was
crowded with what seemed to be half of Lios’s guests, all circled
around Iardith, who was reading out one of the play’s long poems in
what (Rhis was forced to acknowledge) was a beautifully trained
voice. Next to her, in the next best chair, sat the supercilious
Grand Duchess of the Isle of Wilfen.
    Rhis looked past the Grand Duchess (who
ignored Rhis) and spotted Carithe in the corner, looking dismal, a
couple of the other younger girls near her. Yuzhyu was not even
there. Neither