by Mira Zamin
Once an emir or emira has been selected to rule Ghalain, they abdicate their emirdom in favor of their heir. In my case, with no siblings or issue, should I win the throne, I was left with two options. I could either choose someone to assume my place as regent—but there was no one. I had no doubt that Gwydion would have some opinion on the matter, some crony he wished to reward, but I intended to maintain possession of Aquia. After all, I held the emirdom in trust for my mother who would repossess it once the curse was lifted—which I would accomplish, without doubt, once I became Queen. Somehow, in those days, the sum of my problems melted away with the coronation with all righting itself once the crown touched my hair.
Walking into the meeting room on Fyodor’s arm, I was gratified to see Quenela’s face slacken in shock and Hadil’s darken with displeasure. No doubt their minds were churning the same figures and arriving at the same result. As I took my seat beside Kershid, I swept a quick sidelong glance at him. His face was impassive, impregnable as stone. Liem seemed more relaxed but unprecedentedly steely. I could not imagine the strength it had taken to rise the morning after their beloved mother’s death, prepared to manage the business of Ghalain.
I was glad Fyodor and I were not the last to arrive: moments after, Corrine of Bahart straggled in. At least it is not someone who supports me, I thought. In fact, I did not know whom she supported. She took the last open seat, near Liem. The grey taffeta of her pink-lined gown scraped loudly against the seat. The sound was magnified by the expectant hush that prevailed over the chamber. The scent of her rose-doused perfume reached me in wafts.
Kershid nodded at the guard who promptly closed the door behind him, sealing the Assembly: it was not intended to open again until we had decided upon a ruler. Baskets of food were piled in the corners, but for my most pressing concern, the lavatory, there was a recently constructed hole in the floor surrounded by a curtain. Quite dignified for a person as they were pursuing the throne, to be surrounded by the pinging of their own piss. As the day proceeded, a crowd would gather below the windows and it was to them we would present our choice of the ruler first; until then, the windows remained shrouded by golden curtains.
In his mellifluous voice, Kershid said, “Emirs and Emiras, the Queen is dead. I intend that by the end of this day, we will have a ruler. By virtue of our positions, we are bound to this room until a future for our nation is decided. The time has come. If you wish to rule Ghalain, present your case.”
Quenela wasted no time. “I have made no secret that I would be the next Queen of Ghalain. I have ruled Viziéra for a decade, leading it to great prosperity and while our kingdom is greater than an emirdom, I will bring the same steadiness to queenship. I am still young, but that gives me the vitality and energy Ghalin requires to carry it forward—but for my youth, I also have experience. I know there are others even younger who wish to rule Ghalain, but have only a few months experience in their position. The kingdom is not something that we can throw into the hands of a novice. Ghalain requires a strong, knowledgeable hand, and if you would have me, I would rule Ghalain.” She bowed her head respectfully.
It was bloody well done. I was almost moved to support her, Seasons damn it all. “Emira Quenela.” Rapidly, the attention of the room devolved onto me. My toes curled in my black silk shoes. “Why do you desire to be Queen?”
“Why would anyone wish to be Queen?” Quenela replied easily. “Because they believe they can take care of their nation.”
“And how would you accomplish this?” followed Lyra quickly.
With the confidence born of ten years of successfully ruling the wealthiest emirdom in Ghalain, Quenela elaborated on a business-minded philosophy. After all, her years in Viziéra had driven into her the importance of trade and innovation, and the benefits that support for these endeavors could reap for Ghalain as the world changed. Hadil nodded along pompously. Although our views were alike, we differed in one key respect: I favored encouraging prosperity among the commoners. Her plan strove to retain wealth for only the very upper echelons. She was a convincing orator, and her plan was well-thought out, with an appeal to those who wished to maintain their superiority. I had no doubt she would find supporters with it.
With compulsive nervousness, my fingers began picking apart the violet embroidery of my dress.
My cousins began to toss out questions with alarming speed, but Quenela handled them with her customary cool deftness. In her place, I doubted I would have been half so collected. Seasons, soon I would be in her place! I imagined the queries directed at me: How to improve relations with Hademer? What to do about the smuggling in the North? And finally, how to handle the situation in Aquia?
“I would send emissaries to the Pari to try and resolve the matter diplomatically. Moreover, I would create incentives for others to come and work in Aquia until the curse is sorted out. I would advise Emira-Regent Selene to attempt to lure capable managers to come work for Aquia, to ensure that it becomes the fertile and prosperous land it generally is.” She gritted her teeth at me, in an imitation of a smile.
“In short,” cut in Kershid, “the very plan Emira Selene has already implemented.”
Quenela nodded cordially. “Certainly. Emira Selene has adeptly handled the affair for her young age. As she grows older, I look forward to seeing her capabilities flourish as ruler of the emirdom.”
“One might argue,” I inserted quietly, “that even as my capabilities have only begun to grow, I am already an able ruler and I would make a vigorous and clever Queen for Ghalain. One might argue.”
“Emira Selene, tell us: how do you plan on ruling while you are to have a child?” Quenela demanded with a venomous glance at my midriff.
My blood boiled but calmly, I responded, “I do not see how the birth of a child should remove me from the whole of my duties. Even as I coalesce, I will be able to study paperwork and meet with advisors. I should hope you are not implying that a woman is inherently unable to divide time between her child and work, for the ruling of this country, its improvement, its maintenance, will be for the sake of my child, for your children, and the children of our people.”
Very nice, I thought. I saw Idrees smile.
“As we asked Emira Quenela, how do you plan on ensuring the success of Ghalain?” said Lyra.
As I had done many times before, I elaborated my simple but straight-forward plan that I had discussed with Calenda, one which strove to promote the prosperity of Ghalain through support of her merchants, craftsman, and farmers, but unlike Quenela’s plan, one that intended to give power into the hands of those who formed the backbone increasing learning and thus ingenuity, and pull Ghalain steadily towards a future that held success for more than the wealthiest.
Ferdas nodded enthusiastically. Other than Quenela’s coterie, the assembly seemed interested.
“How will you see the curse lifted from Aquia, Queen or no?” asked Corrine of Bahart, as if I had not answered the previous question. She was far too clever to be won over by a few words.
Before I could stop myself, I breathed, “Do you think if I could do that I would be sitting here?”
Quenela grinned, a cat with a mouse in her sights. She quickly smoothed her face so that only I spotted her reaction. “I think the Emira-Regent, despite her sweet tongue, has revealed her age. My dear, you cannot ignore that as Queen issues you consider personal will become public domain. If you cannot handle speaking of an already publicly-known matter among your peers, how will you manage when everything is known by everyone?”
As quickly as I had won them, I could feel the Assembly slipping away. My family would be locked in slumber forever. And Gwydion’s reaction: an icy shiver rippled down my spine as I imagined his violent response.
Perhaps Quenela was right: I was a fool girl and did not deserve Ghalain—what kingdom, what populace deserved a puppet queen? Oh, the strings I was bound to: my family, the curse, Gwydion. I was not independent. I could not put the kingdom first. Quenela would be better for the crown.
At least she was a puppeteer. Yet, there was my family, my family whom I couldn’t fail, even if Ghalain would burn. On some level, I despised my selfishness.
No. No. You are not selfish. Consider Quenela, who wants Aquia, who wishes to press forth industry, but not see any returns given to the common people who support it. Everyone has selfish reasons for wanting something: it’s what you do when you have it that counts. Your reign will not begin and end with breaking the curse. I pushed away my doubts.
“Would it be such a terrible thing to have a ruler who was passionate? Who cared so deeply of matters that she could not coat them in honey and spoon-feed them to you? Surely those are honorable traits, not for the weak-minded, but for those with conviction.”
Chuckling, Idrees of Ariya sipped his amber wine.
“What is the matter?” asked Liem.
Idrees grinned and lifted his glass to toast me. The wine danced merrily in his goblet. “Merely that Emira Selene has shown a remarkable adroitness in spinning an occurrence to reflect the best of the matter, which, I would argue, is a useful skill for any ruler to have, king or emira. And the Thirds Council supports her. Good relations between the monarch and the Council are essential to a successful Ghalain.”
“Surely slickness of tongue is not enough for the election of Ghalain?” sneered Hadil. “Or perhaps we are such great fools that we would be taken by a pretty face and pretty words as the late Queen was?”
The chamber grew tense, and Kershid’s voice dropped to a perilously hushed low. “Pray sir, tell me what you precisely mean that? And when you speak, be careful with the words of which you are so contemptuous.”
I thought I saw the faintest glimmer of fear quiver in Hadil’s eyes. “I simply meant that the late Queen did declare her approval of Emira-Regent Selene, and while that may seem to be in her favor, we cannot forget the weak state the blessed Queen Erina was in by the end of it. The whole of Ghalain sorrowed with her, but I am afraid that this young charlatan did very much overwhelm her with charm, and I would hasten to argue, take advantage of her. Your mother was very much her victim, her pawn, as you, and I, and the whole of Ghalain are at threat to become if we select her to be Queen!”
It was very still, no breath was audible, nor a shuffle of dress. They were waiting for me to reply yet, how could I conceivably defend my position? Oh, Hadil was wrong in casting me as some master villainess, but my motives for Queenship were utterly selfish and yes, the Queen, Ghalain—they would be my pawns in curing my family of the curse and breaking free of my own curse, Gwydion.
“See!” Hadil crowed. “See, how she hesitates. She knows it for the truth. We should suppress these heedless fancies: choosing a young, dynamic ruler is a romantic idea, but stability and experience, which we find in Quenela, that is inestimable.”
“I cannot see how either you or Emira Quenela would have any idea of how my mother was before she died, since neither of you bothered to call on her, thinking her dead before breath had even left her body,” Liem growled. “I know how much Queen Erina enjoyed Emira Selene’s company and that cannot be contrived.”
“I came to the Queen searching for guidance, and found a very great lady who reminded me of my grandmother,” I said softly. “Perhaps Emir Hadil sees something sinister, because that is how he would have behaved in my place.”
Hadil’s fist clenched.
Quenela spoke, her voice so quiet, gentle and brimming with self-satisfaction. “Tell me, is the most estimable Emira-Regent Selene even eligible for the Bronze Throne? She is, after all, merely a placeholder for her mother, the Emira Niobe.”
I was stumped. Quenela was right. I did not know whether I was even within my rights to contest for the crown. And I felt a damned fool that it had not even occurred to me—or Gwydion. That at least was a small satisfaction. Quenela could not even hide her smirk. I wondered how long she had sat on that egg.
“In fact, what research I have done of Ghalain’s laws seems to indicate that a regent cannot pursue the throne. There was a case some three hundred years ago when a mother, an Emira-Regent of Chandon, attempted to gain the throne for her young son, but was told she could not.”
I found my tongue at last. “This is a markedly different situation, with my family spelled to slumber for an indefinite period. What, if the curse is never broken, then no Emir nor Emira of Aquia may ever sit the throne again, since they will always be technically holding the title from my mother? If you have found a case that addresses a pari enchantment of eternal slumber on an emirdom, then please, I would have you tell us what the law says.”
She fell into silence.
I turned to Kershid. “Perhaps you can make a decision, one that will set a precedent that others may look to in the future.”
He considered the question and then ponderously announced, “As the Arbiter, I set forth that given the extenuating circumstances surrounding Emira-Regent Selene, she is indeed an eligible candidate for the Bronze Throne.”
I covered my mouth to hide my satisfied grin. “While we are speaking of laws, I wonder if Emira Quenela could enlighten us on a certain other matter I have been reflecting upon.”
Quenela watched me through suspiciously slitted eyes. They looked like slivers of lapis almonds. “Of course.”
“What is the proper protocol of punishment and retribution when one claimant for the throne attempts to murder another one, oh say, in the middle of the street in the daytime?”
She paled. I could feel interested eyes digging into me. Everyone had heard of the attempt on my life the week before—even if it had been quickly overshadowed by the Queen’s death. If they had not connected it to Quenela previously, they could not fail to do so now. Gwydion had been right: there was no way to truly prove that it had been her, but the doubt might be punishment enough.
Recovering her composure, she spoke snake-sleek. “It is a common enough occurrence, and usually, if the offender is brought to justice, then he is stripped of his lands.” Her face collapsed into pious despair. “Such low tricks are beneath the dignity of any who would wish to sit on the Bronze Throne.”
I speculated who among my peers was foolish enough to believe her farce.
Before I could construct a reply, the door creaked open and a small page nervously tiptoed in. We, the emirs and emiras, gaped at the flagrant breach of custom. The page cowered at the sight of our scandalization. How the guard could have allowed him into this most private of conclaves, I did not know. Surely he was bringing to us some essential information of some disaster? I grew worried: what could be so important?
Plastering his brown eyes to the thick, cerulean rug, the page muttered, “I need to speak to Lord Kershid and Emir Liem in private, please.”
Premonition slid her icicle fingers down my back.
“Nothing is private in the final council!” protested Quenela. Her complaint was echoed by Lyra and Kaladus.
Kershid’s lips pursed unhappily. “We will speak to the boy privately. Take this to time dine on the provided refreshment.”
He, Liem, and the page, drifted to a corner and the rest of us, following Kershid’s advice, congregated around the food. Despite a sickly, waning appetite, I nibbled on a biscuit. Shamelessly, we watched Liem and Kershid. I exchanged a look with Lyra who shrugged noncommittally.
“What do you think the matter is?” I whispered in her ear.
“We will just have to wait and see.”
The page handed the letter to Liem, who gave it to Kershid. As their eyes scanned down the paper, their mouths gaped in horror. They had never appeared more like twins. The poor page seemed more uncomfortable than ever.
“What do you reckon the page interrupted us for?” asked Ferdas through a mouthful of beef.
Not trusting myself to speak, I mimicked Lyra’s shrug.
Liem squeezed Kershid’s hand before speaking. “The servant, who Emira Selene mentioned to Kershid last night, was found trying to steal a horse from the stables this morning. When questioned,
he revealed he had played...some part in the Queen’s death at the behest of a noble, but could say no more. His words seemed to indicate that in some way, the murderer is...related to the Assembly.”
A discontented murmur met these words. I felt suddenly faint. The servant...I had been there. I had seen him administer poison. Blood rushed away from my cheeks, leaving my face clammy. I could have been murdered just as easily...I slid a glance at Quenela, who was examining me with a similar suspicious light in her eye. If it had been her, surely I would have been the one be served the poison...unless the servant had bungled it...
Surprisingly collected for a man who had just discovered that his mother had been murdered, Liem said, “It is very likely that one among us here is a murderer. If there are any who have some inkling of evidence, please speak immediately.”
A memory echoed through my mind and a shadow passed over my heart, and perhaps something of it showed on my face, for Quenela immediately declared, “You say that Emira-Regent Selene told you of this servant. And we have all by now heard that she was at the Queen’s bedside last night. Surely she is the one to suspect.”
“I...”
Aunt Lyra came to my rescue. “I do find it interesting,” she said sweetly, “that you are so quick to blame Selene. The Queen had already indicated some support for the Emira of Aquia; why would she wish to have her killed? You, on the other hand, may have wished to silence the Queen before she could further advocate for Emira Selene. And we well know you are not above attempting murder.”
Now, it was Quenela who was dumbstruck as she met suddenly hostile glares. “But...I...never...”
Abruptly and in spite of everything, I felt very sorry for Quenela.
Massaging his temples, Kershid bowed his head and Liem spoke in his stead. “We will have to gather again at the end of this week, after the Queen’s funeral. Seasons willing, we will have resolved the issue by then.” His voice grew hard. “And if anyone flees from Nyneveh, his or her lands and title will be immediately confiscated and they will be brought to trial for the murder of Queen Erina. Good day.”
Chapter Twenty-One