Adrien wondered, next day, if she should disclose her true s*x, but she decided against it. “They cannot force me to wed the lady,” she told Ferkel as she prepared for her audience. “So I came here as a man, and I’ll leave here as one, too.”
She stood proudly, telescope in hand, as the major-domo announced, “Master Adrien Weaver,” and then she walked into the throne room with her head held high.
And there she stood stock still, suddenly tongue-tied, for the princess who sat at the king’s side was like no creature Adrien had ever seen before.
Her skin was the colour of the toffee that coated the children’s apples at the autumn festivals, her hair blacker than the darkest winter’s night. Her neck was long and graceful like a swan’s, her hands slender and well-formed. Her feet played like
