Ciamon Caelt`s gift to Beatrice arrived: a beautifully carved wooden sedan chair borne aloft by two of Gruffydd`s valets. The exterior was painted in the red of Ammar, but the sigils on the side were the blue dolphins of Sanchia. The windows on all sides were worked with collapsing slats of light balsa wood that could be drawn open and shut with clever little strings of braided leather. Inside, Beatrice saw that the padded seat was made of tufted leather, wonderfully soft to the touch, with a delicate fringe of silk dyed her favorite shade of lavender.

　　"Someone told me that you are fond of lavender," Ciamon said. He carried her to the chair and placed her on the seat.

　　Beatrice flared. What business did Riccardo have talking to this man about her tastes? The man was practically a stranger!

　　"It`s too much," Beatrice said.

　　She knew she should decline the gift. She was sure that it was paid for by Gruffydd and that she and Riccardo had already exhausted the reserves of his hospitality. But—it was so very lovely, and it was a way out of the house. So she let Ciamon help her to shift into position and close the door for her.

　　Before she lowered the blinds over the window, she leaned out and asked Ciamon, "What other embarrassing things did my brother tell you about me?"

　　Ciamon smiled and said nothing. Beatrice closed the blinds, feeling a thrill in her stomach as the chair was lifted by the valets and carried down the street.

　　The sedan chair carried her back to the battlegrounds she`d abandoned: the gardens, the church, the market, the promenade outside of the palace. Beatrice peeked out from behind the blinds and saw people stopping in the streets to stare at the chair as it passed. Sedan chairs were not common in Ammar, where men and women preferred to walk everywhere under their own power. In Sanchia, they were often used by great ladies on hot days when they wanted to avoid the traffic of men and horses in the streets.

　　Beatrice smiled, feeling a little more like a great lady as her chair swayed gracefully past people who stopped to stare. She let her hand stretch out from beneath the blinds to wave at them as she passed.

　　There were new faces to look at in Mahaut. Throughout the weeks that dragged by awaiting the Prince, visitors from all over the world flocked to Ammar for a chance to see the wedding. Beatrice saw so many women with uncovered faces in the streets, in all the colors of the known world. They wore their cultures. Tassel earrings, painted moles, box braids woven with colored beads. Beatrice even saw the studs-and-hoops of Sanchia glittering under feathered hats.

　　Ciamon escorted her all around Mahaut, well beyond the inner ring of the fine houses to which Riccardo and Beatrice had been confined for nearly two months. Beatrice saw churches constructed on nearly every street corner, all teeming with men and women. The chair carried her past rows of low-slung houses in lesser neighborhoods where the roofs were covered in thatch rather than tile. Beatrice was surprised to see so many open spaces left between houses. Wild grass grew here, around squat stone water fountains. Women brought their laundry to the basins while their children played on the grass.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

　　"Fire lanes," Ciamon explained. "In a city made of wood, it`s common to find building ordinances requiring so much open space between neighborhoods. Prevents the spread of flames were one of these homes to catch fire."

　　Beatrice listened with rapt attention. Ciamon explained more of Mahaut to her than she`d been able to learn on her own. Especially when she was not free to walk around without a man to escort her. Ciamon walked along beside the chair, directing the bearers to take Beatrice down whichever street she asked until the sun went down.

　　Then Ciamon walked her back into the house and waited, dutifully, until Riccardo came home from daily councils to help Beatrice back up to bed. The next day, Ciamon returned with the chair and coaxed Beatrice into limping the ten steps from the house to climb into it on her own.

　　"You see? You`ll be dancing in no time," Ciamon said, shutting the door to the sedan chair.

　　Beatrice smiled at him, though he could not see it behind her veil. She closed the blinds.

　　Ciamon let Beatrice explore all over the markets from the safety of the chair. He bought for her, with his own money, some fresh-baked bread, some handspun hard candies wrapped in colored paper, and even a little wooden comb carved in the shape of a snake that she admired. He would have bought her a silver brooch, too, all lined with turquoise, but Beatrice managed to refuse this gift.

　　"The Queen would not like it," she protested.

　　"She must be very particular," Ciamon said, putting his coin back in the pouch on his belt. "I`ve never met a woman who did not like things that sparkled."

　　"You`ve never met Queen Eva?" Beatrice asked.

　　"Lord Gruffydd keeps me very busy at the border. I only came to Mahaut to help with preparations for the wedding," he said. He rubbed his chin and asked, suddenly, "Do you look forward to being married, my lady? Not the wedding, I mean, but& the actual marriage?"

　　Beatrice sat back against the padded seat. Her heart pounded. The question was innocent enough, but she felt as if her answer could send the sedan chair over the edge of a cliff.

　　"All girls do," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear over the traffic in the streets.

　　The sedan chair began to sway again, back to Gruffydd`s mansion. Beatrice must`ve eaten too much of the candy, for now the motion of the chair nauseated her. She declined to take supper with Aunt Alys, and let Ciamon carry her straight to her bed.

　　When she watched Ciamon go, she saw his shoulders dip. It sent Beatrice`s churning stomach into her throat, and she called out after him before he could reach the top of the stairs.

　　"Will you come again tomorrow?" she asked.

　　Ciamon glanced back over his shoulder at her. "If you`d like."

　　Beatrice lay back on her pillow, her head spinning. With a pang, she realized she had quite forgotten to think of Prince Anryniel at all that day.