I bathed again in the morning, wanting my skin to be as clear as possible - aside from my makeup of course, which I applied as liberally as was fashionable. The mirror rewarded my lengthy sleep with the diminishment of the bags under my eyes, though I noticed that I looked almost unhealthily thin. As a noblewoman, there was a fine line to straddle between the slim figure of a malnourished peasant and the rotund form of a merchant's wife, and the combination of journeying and grieving had cost me some of my spare weight. There was little I could do about it now, and with that thought I donned my red dress, old shoes, and jewellery. I opted for nondescript heels that would accentuate the length of my legs without drawing too much attention to the footwear.

When I was finally ready, I walked down the keep stairs and looked upon the courtyard. Many folk were already gathered in preparation. I stepped back inside before anyone saw me and realised that I wanted my hair to be braided. I'd already done it myself, but there were a lot of people watching and I wanted it done properly.

I reascended the stairs and tracked down a servant, ordering her to find someone who knew how to tie a braid and send them to my room. I waited in my chambers for the servant and sat still while she rebraided my hair, despite the anxiety that was beginning to unsettle my empty stomach. A quick look in the mirror told me that I looked as beautiful as could be expected, considering the circumstances.

By now, I was almost late to my own ceremony. I descended the stairs as quickly as I could in my heels, emerging into the courtyard before an onlooking crowd. As Timoth had promised the soldiers were obscured at the far end of the bailey, with the nobles and servants occupying most of the front rows. An artist had set up an easel to the side of the ceremony, where his view of me might be unobstructed. Timoth was the only man before the crowd, and beside him stood a small wooden contraption comprised of two gently sloping surfaces connecting with a horizontal one in the middle. The bridge.

I approached the bridge, and stood beside Timoth. He turned to the audience and spoke.

'It is Countess Saemara Tfaeller's eighteenth birthday,' he called out to them. The audience clapped half-heartedly, until Timoth joined them and the volume rose. I curtseyed low, and Timoth took my hand in his before addressing the crowd again. 'She is now her own woman. She is free to wed and bear children. She carries my authority in her affairs. Let none speak against her coming of age.'

Traditionally, the last statement was a chance for onlookers to object. It had scarcely been used for that purpose in many generations, but it still formed part of the ceremony. The main reason to object would have been to question the legitimacy of a child's birth before they became an adult and thus inherited their title. This was particularly important in the event of a child's coming of age ending a long regency. The practice stemmed from the days when young women had crossed actual bridges – bridges which spanned rivers – to enter the holdings they would rule after the ceremony, as a result of marriage or inheritance. In the Mountain Duchy, it was traditional to dance with one's father at the ceremony, but even had Timoth not been in Father's place, I wouldn’t have liked that. Father had not been a good dancer.

Lifting the hem of my dress slightly, I stepped onto the bridge. It shook slightly as I shifted my weight to it and I feared that I would trip. My pace was slow for dramatic effect. At the peak of the bridge I paused momentarily to give those watching time to consider the momentousness of the event, but I looked up and saw that most of them seemed bored. They were slouching, yawning, or generally looking about for something to interest them. I restrained a frown, trying to keep in mind that this wasn't as important an occasion as my wedding, and that many bigger things than my birthday had been happening in Haelling Cove in recent times. In reality this was a mere formality, but it was hard to remember that when this ceremony had for so long been the key to my future with Prince Alum. I had been awaiting its occurrence such that the lack of pomp was compensated for by its importance to me. At least the artist was busily scraping his brush over the canvas.

With that thought I crossed the bridge, planting my feet firmly in the cobblestone of the courtyard. The crowd clapped again, and I curtseyed in appreciation. If I wanted to I could now make a speech, but none of the words I had been thinking of in years gone by seemed appropriate in the circumstances. Father and Mother were not there to thank, nor did it seem a good idea to thank Cha for the security and wealth of Ebonreach. I wished that Alum was there so that I could thank him for his attendance. Instead, I said something simple and impromptu.

'I am now a woman. I secured the soldiers from Prince Alum who now defend our walls. By the kindness of Yoru, I hope I deserve your respect now.'

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With the ceremony's formality at an end, the crowd began to disperse. Some of the nobles approached me. My hand was kissed by dozens of well-wishers and I wore my knees out from curtseying, yet I did not fail to notice that none of the soldiers attended me. Perhaps I should have seated some of them at the front.

When the audience had mostly disappeared Timoth spoke to me in an understated murmur. 'You spoke without thought. Again,' he accused me.

I sighed exasperatedly. 'Again?' It seemed that nothing I could say to the common folk was good enough; that there was always some person or faction who would see my words as cause to scorn me.

'Again,' Timoth confirmed. 'You have long failed to give the soldiers of Haelling Cove their due respect and now, in your coming of age ceremony, you preferred to mention the Prince's Guard in place of your own men. Then you capped it off with what sounded like a complaint that they did not respect you. If I had not been present they would no doubt have raised a tumult.'

My head fell at the realisation of how my speech had been interpreted. Why did seemingly every word have a double meaning? I felt that no matter what my intent my words would always be misconstrued.

'I meant to propose a cleaning of the slate. That if I had not been worthy of respect as a child, perhaps they would judge me freshly as a woman. I never intended to imply that I preferred the Prince's men.'

'Be that as it may,' Timoth said, his voice neither believing nor judging, 'Your standing with the men of Haelling Cove is far from excellent. I have enough work to do without risking the support of our soldiers by preferring you.'

'Preferring me?' I asked in dismay. 'I am your sister!'

He looked even more dismayed. Crestfallen even. The turn our lives had taken weighed his usually buoyant spirit with the burden of duty and now my carelessness had added to his problems.

'Saemara, when will you learn that everything we do has consequences? I do not enjoy having to make a choice, yet my Cha-forsaken newfound position demands that I must. By virtue of our birth our every word will be dissected. If you do not think before you speak, the ramifications may lead to events that you cannot predict,' Timoth advised me. He sounded much like Father, though Father had typically spoken to me with a kinder tone, even when he'd lost patience with my antics. 'I don't know what I am to do with you.'

I lifted my head in anger at that. 'I am not your pet, Timoth. I am a woman, and heir to the County. By your own admission, I carry your authority.'

Timoth opened his mouth to respond but several people were watching. He paused and then spoke softly, 'perhaps this would be better discussed in the privacy of my chambers.'

'Perhaps it would be,' I agreed, trying to reform my facial muscles into a more neutral expression. It was about as challenging as smiling at Duke Wilbern.

Timoth and I hugged briefly once more and I resumed offering my hand up for kissing by various gentlemen of the court. It felt good to be the centre of attention, though I couldn’t crush the persistent thought that the ceremony had not been as perfect as I’d envisaged.

Eventually the bailey was depleted of well-wishers and I retreated to the keep. My first order of business was to change into something less formal. A blue frock, perhaps. And some black stockings: it was a cold day after all. Then I stepped into a pair of flat shoes. I admired myself in the mirror, tugging at the top and bottom of my frock to accentuate the natural curves of my body and straighten the fabric.

It was then that I realised that I was simply filling time. I had nothing to do. Haelling Cove had moved on without me. The damage to the city had pulled attention away from my return and coming of age, and Timoth was far too busy to occupy my time. Perhaps I should utilise some of the authority he'd granted me and do something useful. The question was, what could I do that would help the city?

I doubted that Timoth would have time to pass judgment on interpersonal civil disputes for some weeks, and I considered offering to act as judge on his behalf. A noble gesture, perhaps, but one I discarded easily. The tastes of arbitration that Father had given me may have indicated his belief in my ability, but it had not instilled in me a love of justice. Sitting on the dais listening to the petty concerns of common folk would likely bore me to tears.

I considered offering to visit some of the landowners who resided in the rural areas of Ebonreach. Timoth had intimated to me his suspicions that they would withold the Crown's rightful tax money until such a time as Timoth showed them whatever respect they felt they deserved. I knew that Father had invented various meaningless titles to this end. For this reason, he’d enjoyed the services of various bailiffs, catchpoles, exchequers, chancellors, and so on. Perhaps I could invent further titles and travel the countryside, bestowing them on the wealthier landholders to ensure the revenue of the Crown.

Sadly, that too made me feel miserable. I had suffered enough of the road and wanted to avoid putting a single toe outside of Haelling Cove if I could help it. Conversely, I wanted to return to Hollowhold when the situation in Haelling Cove no longer required the stability my presence helped to assert. I feared that the longer I stayed home, the more likely Prince Alum would be to forget me - or replace me. At least I knew that I had Duke Wilbern to fall back on, for I doubted that any woman who caught wind of servants' gossip would have him.