happier to eat with his soldiers in the woods than here.
How would it have been for Beatrice to grow up with such a man for a father? George knew her mother had been dead since her birth, and King Helm hadremarried twice in an attempt to get an heir. Both those women had died in childbirth along with their infant sons. Now Beatrice was the only heir remaining to King Helm, yet the way they sat together reminded George of the way things had once been with his father.
The entire dinner was spent in small talk, introducing George to various nobles of Sarrey. King Helm did not mention his daughter or invite her to speak. Indeed it was as if Beatrice herself were invisible. No, worse than that. It was as if she were a painting of a woman, meant to be seen and admired, but no more.
When the food was cleared, King Helm clapped his hands for wine, turned to George, and toasted him. “To Prince George and to Kendel.”
George drank. Then it was his turn to offer a toast. He raised his glass and gestured to Beatrice. “To Princess Beatrice,” he said stoutly.
King Helm laughed aloud.
Beatrice stared down at her untouched glass.
And George was left wondering how anyone could believe that Beatrice was not worthy of a toast.
As if in explanation, King Helm told George a story about Beatrice when she was three years old. “She was a spry little thing,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement.
George tensed at the thought that Beatrice would be hurt once more. But this was not his court. He had no power here.
“I told her one day I was going out hunting.” King Helm patted his stomach, and there were flickers of laughter about the hall. George could only guess that the courtiers were used to this treatment of the princess and knew that the king would reward them for their enjoyment.
A nod to Beatrice, who held absolutely still. “She said she would come with me. She insisted on it. She stamped her little foot at me.”
He pointed down to her toes as if she were a child yet.
Then he straightened his shoulders. “But I sent her back to the nursery, where she belonged, and told her to play with her dolls instead. As everyone knows, a female on a hunt is a distraction at the best and bad luck at the worst.”
Murmurs of agreement.
Which explained why Beatrice went out into the woods with her hound alone, George thought. She looked now as though she had gone to some other place inside herself, a place where she could not hear her father’s words and thus could not be hurt by them. George wondered how often she was forced to go to that place.
“Her mother was so beautiful, you know.” King Helm went on. “None of my other queens quite matched her in looks. Beatrice is a bit like her, about the eyes.” But clearly he was displeased about the rest of her.
Did King Helm not see how much she was like him?It seemed that she was rejected for any sign of femininity yet also rejected for not showing enough femininity. How could she win?
“Well, what about tomorrow? Shall we have a hunt? If you are recovered from your journey, that is?” asked King Helm.
George unclenched his jaw and found his headache had become worse than ever. He had to get to the woods. The king’s hunt was an opportunity, if not ideal. There would be a good chance he could at least play the role of the foolish prince and get himself lost. It seemed that King Helm hardly expected any different from him.
“Yes, thank you,” George said automatically.
“Perhaps we’ll find another man-beast,” said King Helm jovially, looking around his courtiers for support. They showed it by hammering their fists on the table.
When the sound died down, King Helm turned to George and spoke as though George had come from a different world entirely, where animal magic had never been heard of.
“Now and again beasts come out of the great forest. Man-beasts we call them if they try to meet our eyes. For there are those who claim that it is only a man
How would it have been for Beatrice to grow up with such a man for a father? George knew her mother had been dead since her birth, and King Helm hadremarried twice in an attempt to get an heir. Both those women had died in childbirth along with their infant sons. Now Beatrice was the only heir remaining to King Helm, yet the way they sat together reminded George of the way things had once been with his father.
The entire dinner was spent in small talk, introducing George to various nobles of Sarrey. King Helm did not mention his daughter or invite her to speak. Indeed it was as if Beatrice herself were invisible. No, worse than that. It was as if she were a painting of a woman, meant to be seen and admired, but no more.
When the food was cleared, King Helm clapped his hands for wine, turned to George, and toasted him. “To Prince George and to Kendel.”
George drank. Then it was his turn to offer a toast. He raised his glass and gestured to Beatrice. “To Princess Beatrice,” he said stoutly.
King Helm laughed aloud.
Beatrice stared down at her untouched glass.
And George was left wondering how anyone could believe that Beatrice was not worthy of a toast.
As if in explanation, King Helm told George a story about Beatrice when she was three years old. “She was a spry little thing,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement.
George tensed at the thought that Beatrice would be hurt once more. But this was not his court. He had no power here.
“I told her one day I was going out hunting.” King Helm patted his stomach, and there were flickers of laughter about the hall. George could only guess that the courtiers were used to this treatment of the princess and knew that the king would reward them for their enjoyment.
A nod to Beatrice, who held absolutely still. “She said she would come with me. She insisted on it. She stamped her little foot at me.”
He pointed down to her toes as if she were a child yet.
Then he straightened his shoulders. “But I sent her back to the nursery, where she belonged, and told her to play with her dolls instead. As everyone knows, a female on a hunt is a distraction at the best and bad luck at the worst.”
Murmurs of agreement.
Which explained why Beatrice went out into the woods with her hound alone, George thought. She looked now as though she had gone to some other place inside herself, a place where she could not hear her father’s words and thus could not be hurt by them. George wondered how often she was forced to go to that place.
“Her mother was so beautiful, you know.” King Helm went on. “None of my other queens quite matched her in looks. Beatrice is a bit like her, about the eyes.” But clearly he was displeased about the rest of her.
Did King Helm not see how much she was like him?It seemed that she was rejected for any sign of femininity yet also rejected for not showing enough femininity. How could she win?
“Well, what about tomorrow? Shall we have a hunt? If you are recovered from your journey, that is?” asked King Helm.
George unclenched his jaw and found his headache had become worse than ever. He had to get to the woods. The king’s hunt was an opportunity, if not ideal. There would be a good chance he could at least play the role of the foolish prince and get himself lost. It seemed that King Helm hardly expected any different from him.
“Yes, thank you,” George said automatically.
“Perhaps we’ll find another man-beast,” said King Helm jovially, looking around his courtiers for support. They showed it by hammering their fists on the table.
When the sound died down, King Helm turned to George and spoke as though George had come from a different world entirely, where animal magic had never been heard of.
“Now and again beasts come out of the great forest. Man-beasts we call them if they try to meet our eyes. For there are those who claim that it is only a man
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