Free Anna of Byzantium by Tracy Barrett

that I had felt, even while not understanding its source.
    My squirming brought another rebuke from Sophia. “Do you not see how your sister sits so still that Dora is almost through with her hair?”
    I glanced sidelong at Maria, who indeed was sitting with her usual serenity. She smiled at me, then turned her eyes in Sophia’s direction and made a mocking scowl, imitating Sophia’s displeased countenance. Without moving her head, she stretched out a hand in my direction, and I clasped it, glad that she had the forbearance not to appear smug at being praised while I was being scolded. And so we sat, her small hand in mine, until both of us were declared fit to be robed.
    We stood, happy to be released from our cramped postures, and stretched out our arms for the sleeves of our gowns. Maria’s pale blue silk went on first, making her blue eyes sparkle and her hair appear even brighter than it already was. As Dora knelt to fasten Maria’s white slippers, Sophia lifted a new robe over my head. It too wasblue, but of a darker hue than my sister’s, and around the border was an elaborate design in deep purple.
    Startled, I held Sophia off for a moment. “Where did this come from?” I asked. “I am not allowed to wear purple, Sophia; even a Turk must know that. Only the emperor and empress may wear purple.”
    “Your grandmother brought it in after she heard that your father had arrived. It is by her order that you wear it,” answered Sophia, ignoring my restraining hand and pulling the robe over my arms and then my head. She spun me around and started fastening the ribbons that held the robe together in the back, while Dora, finished with Maria, slipped deep blue slippers onto my feet. These were new too, and the tiny buttons up the side were also purple.
    The robe fit perfectly, and was of a heavier silk than I was accustomed to wearing. I liked the feel of it as I took a tentative step, then turned to face Maria. Her pretty eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open. “Oh, sister,” she breathed. “You look … you look …” She couldn’t finish, but Dora did.
    “You look just like your father,” she said. Maria nodded in wordless agreement. I wished that I had a mirror larger than the small silver one I held in my hand, but before I could think of how to see my entire form at once, the hanging swung open and our grandmother appeared.
    “Let me see the imperial princesses in their finery,” she said. She looked Maria up and down, not smiling. “A pretty little thing, you are,” she said in a tone of dismissal. “Like your mother. Like a Ducas.” Again that tone ofcontempt as she said the name. Maria didn’t answer, but I could see that she was fighting back tears. Grandmother turned from her, as though my sister was not worthy of further comment, and looked at me. This time satisfaction spread over her angular features.
    “A Comnenus,” she said. She made a twirling motion with her finger to tell me to turn around, which I did, slowly, holding my head as high as I could to increase my height. “But one thing is missing. You are a woman now,” she said, drawing a folded cloth from her pocket and approaching me.
    I saw that what she held was a veil. “Turn around,” she commanded, and I did so, then felt the silk flutter over my face, covering me from the nose to the chin, as she looped the slender cords over my ears and tied them at the back of my head. “Face me again,” she said. I did so. The fine cloth felt cool on my face, and moved in and out slightly as I breathed. I realized what an advantage the veil would be in disguising my emotions.
    “A true Comnenus,” Grandmother said again. “He will be pleased.” No need to ask who “he” was, for at that moment we heard the trumpeters from the far end of the palace announce my father’s arrival in his throne room. “Come,” my grandmother said, extending her thin hand to me. Clutching my fingers in hers, she hastened from the room,