She could suffer through it all knowing there was a slight chance she'd see Andon at dinner.
Around the grand table sat two dozen semi-familiar faces. Members of the Regalship—people she had met many times growing up, the people who knew many a detail of her sordid past.
Rames was there, and he eyed her carefully as she entered the Dining Hall with Browan, her arm wrapped around his, at his bidding. He did not join the polite applause that fizzled through the room as everyone stood at their entry. But he never took his eyes off of her. They were not angry, Veria noticed. They were waiting. They were...urging.
As she sat at her place to the left of the King at the head of the table, Rames' eyes flashed to her hand. To her ring. Her stomach lurched nervously. She locked on to the Fire energy in the wedding ring talisman, then focused on Rames, searching for his desires.
'I want to tell Veria.'
'I want to give Veria the message.'
Veria nodded subtly to him. She knew the message, but she listened anyway.
'Elanza lis cabarus ali forgeo'.
She nodded again, and he finally looked away, just as Browan told everyone to help themselves to the feast.
Alright, Strelzar, I hear you, she thought with slight curl in her lip, looking up toward the ceiling. He had made certain that she would get the message.
Absent-mindedly, and not really planning on eating much of any of it, Veria placed random bits of food on her bronze dish—an herbed-egg tart, a honey-roasted leg of hen, a relish made from minced bearded clove and some orange fruit she'd never seen.
“First,” Browan's voice boomed next to her, “let me say thank you all for coming, and a special thank you to Lord Rames for suggesting and helping coordinate this luncheon.”
Veria had to make a concerted effort not to swoon as the revelation dizzied her. Rames? Rames was in on this plot of Strelzar's, she thought to herself, which meant that there were things in this meeting that Strelzar wanted to know...or that he wanted her to hear. She tried her best to regain composure so she could pay close attention.
“Now, please feel free to voice your concerns, or ask any questions you may have—but know there will be some I cannot answer, for strategic and security reasons. And please,” Browan added with a hearty chuckle, “finish all this food!”
There was a smattering of polite laughter. Then the questions started.
“We know that Tal'lea has no plans to intervene, Your Majesty, but does Govaland have any plans to stop the Separatist Army if they move within their borders?” a man asked.
“I have briefly discussed several options with General Gerant of Varfelg, urging for either intervention or allowing Londess forces to enter Govaland to do so. He is optimistic that we can reach a diplomatic agreement, as am I,” Browan answered, following his statement with a smug sip of meade.
If Veria hadn't wanted to vomit already, she definitely would have at that moment.
“You mentioned a diplomatic agreement—are there plans for another Peace Council, Your Majesty?” came a familiar voice. Veria scanned the table looking for who spoke the question, and saw it was the woman seated next to Rames. A pretty face crowned by a mop of mousy brown curls. Emmandia Haleshore, Andon's former fiance.
Their speculations had been correct. Rames' mother had descended on the eligible, wealthy young Lady Emmandia like a vulture on a still warm corpse. She hoped they were happy—Rames did look fuller in the face, clean in beard, and healthy in complexion.
Maybe they were...
“No plans are solid now, my Lady,” Willis Villicrey responded. “But, we are exploring the opportunity, as the diplomatic council from Govaland was not well represented at the Council in Barril. As the Separatist Army has made it clear by their renewed forces at the border of the Southern Channel, it is imperative they are involved this time.”
“If we are able to convince Govaland of the necessity of a Peace Council,” Browan chimed in, “I will go myself. That's how important this is to me.”
Veria suppressed an eye roll.
“What of the missing Wind Magers?” a man asked, his voice slightly panicked. “Are they a threat?”
Wing Magers, Veria thought, her ears perking at the mention of more than one. Who had joined Virro? she wondered, anxiously awaiting Browan's answer.
“No, we do not think they are a threat at all,” Browan answered matter-of-factly. “We are still searching for Virro Ladny and Sureven Sotar, but my advisers have done thorough background on both, and they have no troubling connections or histories. They believe the two fled because they did not want to be involved in a war.”
Sureven had left the Elemental Guard—he was one of them, part of this plan of Strelzar's, probably with Virro at that very moment, Veria thought.
“Virro Ladny has connections to Strelzar Plazic,” a woman protested. “How can you say that is not troubling? Plazic is dangerous.”
“Strelzar Plazic is not a threat to Londess,” Browan stated plainly. “He is not a threat to anyone. I have a full guard detail on him to be sure of that.”
Well, there are definitely a few spies in that detail, Veria thought to herself, suppressing a chortle.
“The attack on Longberme—has the investigation linked it to the Separatists, Your Majesty?” asked an older man that Veria knew she had met as a child, but could not remember his name.
“Yes,” Browan said. “In fact, I received the full report recently. The assassins attacked in a very similar manner to the way I was attacked here, and saved by my beautiful Queen,” Browan reached out and squeezed Veria's hand. She almost pulled away instinctively, but remembered she was there to be a puppet in his show—a happy, beautiful prop. A pawn on his board.
“Queen Veria,” Rames addressed her, “you used to lead the Elemental Guard. It must be hard for you to watch this conflict.”
“Do you have a question for the Queen, Lord Rames?” Browan asked, a bit curtly.
“Will you fight if war comes to Londess?” Rames asked, his look serious and pressing.
She listened to his desires. He wanted...confirmation. How could she answer to let him know that she was on Strelzar's twisty path of clues? She had just read the story but she didn't know what it meant.
The story...
“I will always protect the people,” she answered plainly, reciting Tarddiad's words from the folk tale.
Rames nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“An inspiration, is she not?” Browan boomed. He raised his mug of meade into the air. “Let us toast the brave and beautiful Queen Veria! Here, here!”
The Lords and Ladies around the table lifted their cups of meade and glasses of wine and joined the King in toasting their Queen. Veria smiled demurely, feigning embarrassment at their praise.
“May I propose we lift our spirits in this time of dire forecast?” Rames said, his glass still lifted above him. “A grand Regal Ball in honor of the new Queen, at North Chadron!”
A wave of applause and agreement washed over the table. The Regalship did love a grand ball.
Veria knew it was another chance for her to send a message.
“Of course, Lord Rames!” Browan roared excitedly. “How thoughtful of you. When shall this grand ball take place?”
“A month from tonight,” Rames suggested, looking straight at Veria when he did, then facing Browan again.
“If I am not available, I am sure that Queen Veria will be, and would love to attend,” Browan remarked.
“Of course, Lord Rames,” Veria nodded. “I am truly honored.”
“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty,” Rames replied with a nod, as well.
The rest of the luncheon was rather uneventful, everyone so distracted by the prospect of a fancy ball that they all but forgot why they were there in the first place, and finished their feasting amongst idle chatter of their estates and families. When it was over, Browan escorted Veria out of the Dining Hall and pulled her aside as soon as they were a decent dis
tance down the corridor.
“You were brilliant,” he said with delight. “I will always protect the people. They ate it up like coacoa cake. I forget sometimes how conniving you are. I like when it works in my benefit.”
Veria refrained from protesting his insults, settling for a soft, disapproving sigh.
“Anyway, I owe you,” Browan added.
She scanned his desires before he had a chance to leave, to see if anything new had come up. He wanted to go see Jeyna...
Jeyna! Veria thought, an idea forming around the name.
“Actually, Browan, I might take you up on that favor now,” she said. “I was thinking I would like a new dress made for this grand ball at Chadron.”
“Of course you should have a new gown for it, since the whole thing is in your honor,” he said. “You need to make an impression. One they won't shut up about for months, preferably. I like my wealthy citizens as distracted as possible.”
“I was thinking blue. Bright blue. Like the deep ocean...and a long white train. White like snow,” Veria suggested.
“Well, I don't know a thing about fashion other than you look great in red, but I am just on my way to meet with a seamstress, so I will give her your request,” Browan said. “Enjoy your evening.”
“You, as well,” Veria said.
Browan turned to walk away.
“Feathers!” Veria called after him.
He stopped and looked back.
“What?”
“On the dress,” Veria said. “Tell the seamstress I want feathers.”
Browan shrugged and continued on his path.
Now she had two people who could send word to Strelzar. She had received his many messages and had read the story of Tarddiad. Hopefully, once he was aware of that, he would send some different clues, because Veria was not confident she could figure out what to do next on her own.
At dusk, out of the rigid, overly formal ivory dress and back in her simple violet one from earlier that day, Veria arrived at the cottage for dinner, her heart thumping in anxious anticipation, hoping the stars had aligned and one of Andon's dinner visits coincided with hers.
Before she could make it inside, Irea burst through the door and rushed to her and wrapped herself around her mother's leg.
“Irea!”
Andon appeared in the threshold, about to chase after their daughter, but stopped dead when he saw Veria and smiled.
“I wasn't sure if he would let you come,” Andon murmured as he walked slowly toward her.
“What do you mean?” Veria asked cocking her head. Then she remembered the interconnected web they were all a part of—even her now. They must have known of Rames' luncheon, and assumed that maybe Browan would let Veria change her schedule. “Oh,” she said quietly.
Andon eyed her carefully, and she knew what he was wondering...word of her confirmations to Rames and Jeyna might not have made it through the web yet.
“Irea,” she said, looking down at the dark-haired girl hugging her leg, “after dinner, I have a new story for you.”
“Ooh, what's it about?” she squealed.
She shifted her gaze from Irea to Andon, and locked eyes with him as she answered: “Tarddiad, the Bird of Resurrection.”
Andon's eyes flashed and he grinned a foxy, lopsided grin.
“Resta....ruster...russsetection?” Irea asked with a scrunched up face. “What is that?”
“It means to rise from the dead,” Andon answered as he took her up in his arms easily.
She shrugged and twirled a stray wave of his dark hair that bore so much resemblance to her own. “Sounds strange. But Uncle Strelzar is two hundred years old, so I am used to strange things.”
Andon and Veria laughed loudly and took her inside the cottage, which was filled to the brim with the aroma of Rosa in the kitchen.
“You made Rosa?” Veria asked excitedly.
“Yes,” Andon answered. “In hopes you would get to eat it.”
“What does Tanisca say?” Veria tittered.
“She says that it's fitting because she has been reduced to a commoner,” Andon replied with a smirk. “Now she can eat commoner food.” Andon put Irea down. “Go tell Tani and Papa that dinner will be ready soon.”
As soon as she was up the stairs and out of ear shot, Andon whirled on Veria and pulled her into him abruptly, taking her lips into a deep and hungered kiss. Her body came alive and she wrapped her arms around his torso, happy to find that he tasted of his Rosa soup. He growled in his throat as he pulled away and took her in.
“Oh, how I have missed you, vina,” he sighed. His Esperan pet name for her reminded her of the saying she had been bombarded with that day.
“Andon,” she said, “the last time I saw you...what you said—how long has this been going on?”
His face went serious instantly, his mouth flipping from a soft smile to a thin, straight line.
“We cannot discuss it,” he said, shaking his head.
“Everyone is discussing it! Everyone but me—”
“You don't know that,” Andon said, dropping his arms from her and turning to walk away.
“I think I do, Andon,” she said, following him.
He spun on her and grabbed her arms. “You can't know that. You can't know anything other than what you know, Veria. You are too close to him—or more, he is too close to you. We can't put you, or any of this, in that sort of danger.”
“So I just have to guess? To just-just...sit in there like the prisoner I am and not do anything?” she yelled in frustration, throwing his hands off of her arms.
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “You are. You are just supposed to sit there, Tarddiad.”
Her spine went straight and she cocked her head.
“Your time to throw the bastard into the Fire will come, Birdie. But you can't know what we know. Not yet.”
It was the first time she had ever heard Andon use Strelzar's pet name for her. She shuddered and felt dizzy, realizing as another whiff of Rosa filled her nose that she had not eaten but a few bites of the mystery fruit garnish at the luncheon.
“Are you alright, my love?” Andon asked, steadying her as she wavered.
“Yes, I'm fine, I'm just hungry, that is all,” she answered.
“Go sit at the table and I will bring you a bowl,” he suggested, pulling porcelain bowls down from a shelf above the stove. “I am sure it has been a long and trying day for you. Please, rest.”
She trudged to the table and sat at one of the long wooden benches that flanked it instead of chairs. Just as she sat, Tanisca and Turqa came down the stairs, carrying Irea and Aleon, respectively.
“Via, you look ill,” Tanisca remarked as she sat Irea, and then herself, on the bench.
“Nice to see you too, Mother,” Veria groaned.
“I am serious, dear. Don't give me attitude. You are positively alabaster,” her mother continued.
“As a physician, I must agree,” Turqa chimed in. “Have you consumed plenty of liquids and food today?”
“No, I haven't,” Veria answered with a sigh. “I was too busy deciphering 'The Lore of Morenet'.”
Turqa and her mother went rigid and exchanged a quick glance.
“A fine collection of stories,” Turqa said awkwardly with a subtle nod.
“Indeed,” Tanisca agreed, ripping up a loaf of bread that sat in the center of the long, wooden table and passing chunks to her grandchildren.
“Well, I'm sure that's it, but I can check, if you like?” Turqa offered.
“If it would make you all stop worrying, please do,” she said with a shrug.
Turqa came around the table to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His face flinched almost immediately.
“What?” Veria asked with concern.
“What is it?” her mother echoed.
“You are perfectly healthy, Veria, but definitely in need of some soup,” Turqa said as he went back around to the opposite side of the table and seated himself witho
ut looking her in the eyes.
It was the truth...but why did he flinch if there was nothing wrong with her? she asked herself.
“I can help with that!” Andon announced, toting three bowls of Rosa along his arm, which he gave to the three adults at the table. Veria began to devour her soup immediately, and Andon went back into the kitchen, reemerging with two plates of cubed cheese and diced caros for the children and a bowl of Rosa for himself. He sat next to Veria with his bowl, and they all ate happily, discussing the weather, and Aleon's attempts at taking his first steps. Irea then regaled them with an in-depth account of the members of the duck family that lived in their pond.
Veria was beyond happy that the children enjoyed the cottage, even if she couldn't be with them to share it all the time. Under the table, Andon grabbed her leg just above the knee and squeezed it. She turned her head to look at him and his face wore a warm smile that conveyed her emotions exactly.
When everyone was finished eating, the Rosa and the coacoa tarts that Andon had made for dessert, Turqa jumped up from the table.
“I think I shall clear the dishes,” he announced. “Dear, maybe the children need a bath tonight from playing outside for so long.”
“A bath!” Irea squealed in delight. “Oh, please Tani, can we?”
“I suppose so,” she said, and without a moment's hesitation, Irea rushed up the stairs. Tanisca scooped up Aleon and followed her. “Don't get in yet, Irea. Let me warm it up first!”
“Oh, a hot bath sounds wonderful,” Veria sighed, getting up from the table to stretch, feeling pleasantly stuffed to the brim.
“Veria, please,” Turqa said softly, “sit back down.”
Veria's stomach flipped and she sat back down as her stepfather suggested.
“What did you find earlier, Turqa?” she muttered nervously. “I knew it was something.”
“What? What do you mean?” Andon asked, his face pulling into a concerned frown.
Queen of the Earth: Book V in the Elementals Series Page 6