by Mira Zamin
***
Gwydion and I were eating breakfast, a mélange of potatoes and long green peppers with flaky bread, when a courier entered.
A young lad, he doffed his cap, revealing shaggy brown hair. “Emira-Regent Selene, Lord Gwydion. I bring news from the eastern border, from the garrisons set up to facilitate the transfer of sleeping bodies. It appears that Emira Quenela and Emir Hadil have aligned since the meeting and have taken Fort Ondil and bought the mercenaries guarding it.”
My mouth dropped open. I was not too surprised though. I had know it would only be a matter of time: Quenela was not one to make idle threats. Well, neither was I. “We must take reinforcements to the fort and force them out. Siege or open battle, this must be answered.”
Gwydion crossed his legs. “No Selene. You will go to Nyneveh, to the Assembly. I shall go to the front. I suspect it will be a brief matter: Quenela and Hadil will wish to focus their attentions on the Bronze Throne. After you have secured the crown for me, I will meet you in Nyneveh.”
I stared at him blankly. “Secured the crown?” For you?
“Why of course,” he answered blithely. “Do you not think that as my queen you could improve the lives of the beggar children and peasants you are constantly nattering about? More importantly, would you really allow Quenela or Hadil the Bronze Throne?”
My reeling mind took in the ramifications of his proposal. If either Quenela or Hadil won the the throne, they would immediately take the opportunity to oust me out of Aquia. Another thought struck me: If I were Queen, as a ruler with diplomatic rights among the Pari, I could leverage Lilianna into lifting the curse. She can ignore an Emira, but she cannot disregard the Queen of Ghalain.
“We cannot abandon Aquia, my family,” I said. “Someone needs to take care of them.”
“I will leave Farzal as steward of the city while I am gone, which will only be for a fortnight, if that, worry not. Your trip will likely take months though. Pack thoroughly.”
I was hard-pressed to ignore the fact that it was my role to name the steward. I had been dismissed. As I stood, the room quivered with vertigo. I caught my balance heavily against Gwydion. “We must still continue searching for a means to break the curse.”
He removed my hand from his arm and replied, “Very well. I will have Kay look into it.”
I very nearly said thank you, as if I were a supplicant and he the ruler. He had me so fully in his grip, directing me, ordering me, that I could not even wriggle without some sort of repercussion.
Perhaps I can manage some independence away from him when I am away in Nyneveh.
Chapter Thirteen