by CS Hale
Knives. Courtly manners. Everything done with a smile. These were things that, thanks to Adzil, I knew R’Keshans valued. Astrid Carr would have entered with a smile. Astrid Carr knew how to put everyone at ease. Astrid Carbrev knew how to wield a knife. But I was going to keep that particular talent hidden tonight.
Right. I straightened my head. Time to go meet another ambassador.
Reina was adorned in a brilliant yellow dress that highlighted her still golden hair and showed none of her cleavage. Her crown of barat leaves was more substantial than mine, which did make me wonder at my status, but didn’t actually bother me. Crowns were heavy, as I’d discovered, and I didn’t relish having my small one on all evening. Neither Reina’s head nor neck showed any strain from the weight. Of course, hers was less bulky than the Imperial State Crown of Great Britain or the lavishly adorned hairstyles of the Ztemyatans.
The Sapir was dressed in a tunic and trousers of bright green, heavily embroidered in gold. His skin was lightly tan, more sun-kissed than the bronze of the Cordair. His hair was chestnut, just a few shades paler than mine. The sides had been pulled back into a braid that hung down his back and was tied off with a large peridot carved to resemble some insect. Of approximately middle age, he had a smile that could have melted chocolate and dazzling green eyes that had probably melted the clothing off of countless women. His eyes went from my face to the jewel nestled on the tops of my breasts, to my ears (hidden by my hair), then back to my face.
“Honored queen,” he said, bowing low.
“Sapir Tanic Ilahani. I am honored to make your acquaintance.” I smiled and inclined my head while I brought my hand to my chest, covering my heart and the jewel with the formal greeting. I was tempted to leave my arm there but forced it back to my side.
“Shall we?” Reina asked, and gestured to the table. An assortment of sliced meats and breads, cheeses, nuts, fruits, and refreshing salads had been set out. The Sapir poured wine for Reina and myself then filled his glass and set the decanter aside. He drank, both the wine and the view of my chest. My eyes flicked to Reina’s in silent question as to why I was here for the energy in the room told me that this dinner was not just a simple introduction to Valemar’s wife.
“Tanic,” Reina said with a purr in her voice. “I’m having trouble securing the best price and delivery dates on our latest order.”
The ambassador’s eyes moved away from me. “There are others with requests ahead of yours, Reina.”
A contract. A switch flicked on inside me. This dinner was another contract negotiation. This was something I could do in my sleep, even with a scant file.
I leaned across the table toward the ambassador, the jewel rising as my breasts tilted toward him. “But my honored Sapir, it is not Bánalfar’s Queen Mother that asks you. It is the Moon Princess’s representative.” I offered up a quick prayer that Reina wouldn’t take that as an insult. “I would see my people protected and your R’Keshans make the best steel.” I leaned back and jutted my lower lip out in a small pout. “Unless you are telling my honored mother that we need to look elsewhere?”
The Sapir’s eyebrows rose, a small flag of panic though his eyes barely widened. His hand came to his chest. “My dear Princess, my honored Queen, I had no idea the order was for you.”
I placed a hand on Reina’s arm. “My mother has been taking care of details while I better acquaint myself with Vanerife and my husband is attending to business in the south.” Reina smiled at me and took my hand. “I do not like the whispers that have reached me. Dangerous men trade with the Cordair. Dangerous men who would do anything to ensure their supply of ore.” There was the faintest click of apprehension in the Sapir’s eyes. He, too, had heard the whispers.
“The days are coming when your steel will be tested in ways it hasn’t been before. You could have us try … or wait until you can do so on your own shores.” I smiled sweetly but made sure he read the threat in my eyes. “All diplomacy is better with a knife at your back. I would prefer a R’Keshan knife but —”
“Perhaps the Zagré steel, instead?” Reina asked. I nodded my agreement.
The Sapir laughed and clapped his hands. “Is this what the prophecy meant by ‘a new life for all?’”
“Life comes in many forms,” I said, letting his reference to my barrenness slide. “Fulfillment can take many forms. I, myself, would like to see fulfillment in the form of our order in —” I turned to Reina.
“Thirty days?” she said.
“Simek! Thirty days!” The Sapir threw himself back in his chair.
I hummed. “One and a half moons?” I returned my gaze to Reina. “Would that be fair?”
Her eyes danced with glee before she put on a mask of suffering. “I suppose. Would that be possible, esteemed Sapir?”
I put my hands under my chin and leaned forward, resting on my elbows, a look of hopeful expectation on my face. The jewel left my chest and swung gently before my breasts. The Sapir’s gaze swung back and forth, following its path. I sighed.
“I understand your hesitation, honored ambassador, for the R’Keshans are a peaceful people. Our Mödatal may be a seer, but I, too, have a gift.” His eyes finally traveled up to my face. “I know, without the benefit of any seer, only of my own discernment, that the day is soon coming when all the old will stand on a knife’s edge. The blade may cut and take the old with it, or the blade may rise and block the old from harm.” His eyes widened slightly. “Which way would you have the knife move, esteemed Sapir? Where would you see R’Kesh? An old and glorious country, still whole, or the subject of a regime you cannot possibly understand?”
The color drained from the Sapir’s face. “What do you bring with you?” he whispered.
“It is not me that you need to worry about,” I said. “It is the Cordair who have unleashed the devil. Oluendi grows tired of living in the mines.” Sweat appeared on the Sapir’s brow. “The Alfari are willing to make a stand, as they have always done. Is R’Kesh willing to stand with us? Or will you take your chances with the devil?”
The Sapir refilled his wineglass then drained it. His eyes filled with a mixture of resignation and horror. “By the Father and Mother and Turend himself, I will find a way to get you what you need.”
“I never doubted it,” Reina said, the purr returning to her voice. “And now let’s leave business behind. I didn’t ask you here to talk business. I asked you here to meet my new daughter.”
“Alahanue,” I said.
The Sapir’s eyebrows shot up. “You speak R’Keshan?”
“A bit.” I smiled. “I’ve been reading Prince Adzil’s fascinating book, and I do have a gift for picking things up.”
The Sapir poured himself more wine, this time with a smile on his face. “Valemar has found himself a fine wife, my Reina.”
“Would you have expected him to do anything else?”
We talked of The Art of Diplomacy, the lands of R’Kesh, of its proud people, full of life. He asked me for tales of the moon. I brushed his request away with, “It’s more different than you could ever understand. I’d rather not talk of it.” Being from a more courtly society, the Sapir merely smiled through his disappointment and changed the subject.
He looked pleased when he departed, full of wine and food, sweet tea and pastries. He bowed low over my hand and kissed it. It was only after the door closed behind him that I rounded on Reina.
“What was that?”
“Dinner with a dignitary. You did superbly well.”
“For someone with no warning as to its true purpose,” I retorted. Reina raised one eyebrow. “I told you, this —” I waved my hands in emphasis. “— is what I used to do for a living. But did you let me read the file? No. Had I read the contract? No. I didn’t even know there was one. I’m guessing we were on the same page goal-wise because you went along with everything I said. What was this? Some kind of test?”
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew the answer, knew it before the faint bit
of color appeared on Reina’s cheeks. “Why?” I asked.
Reina turned and walked to the table. She tapped one hand on it, but didn’t seem able to answer.
“Because you were looking for me to have some value?” I asked. I blinked away a sting that rose in my eyes.
“Because I needed to know how you’d manage against our neighbors.” Reina faced me. “Because your looks would have enchanted Tanic enough that I could have gotten the answers myself, had I needed to.”
I gritted my teeth, biting back the words I wanted to hurl at her. “Never do that to me again.” Then I turned on my heel and marched out before I did something I’d later regret.
I didn’t go back to my rooms. I clenched my jaw and headed down the long stairway to the beach. I needed to move.
I peeled off my dress once I’d reached the sand, not caring if there were guards to see, and left it on a chair with my shoes and the crown. The sea sparkled with the glowing phosphorescent creatures, and I waded out into the surf to join them. Once the water was waist high, I dove under, wetting my hair and pushing myself out into deeper water.
I would have done anything for her. I would have done anything if she’d asked.
I broke the surface and treaded water. As my hands swept back and forth before me, I was struck by the fact that I’d been treading water for months. That was why tonight stung. I had finally been able to combine the old me with the new, and it had all been a test.
With a real client.
I flicked my head to shake off a trickle dripping from my hair into my eyes. The contract had been real.
My hands and feet moved on their own as my mind went into analysis mode.
With or without me, Reina would have met with the Sapir. She would have pushed for better terms. She’d dressed me up, shoved me in there, and sat back to see what would happen.
I blew out a slow breath.
And PS Carr and Astrid Carbrev had come together. Hell, I’d even put on the mantle of the Moon Princess.
I closed my eyes. She still should have told me it was more than a simple dinner, asked for my help. I desperately needed someone I could trust. And while my head said that I could trust Reina, my heart wasn’t sure she wouldn’t find some way to break it.
I swam away my tension. When I turned for shore, I noticed that Daria stood by the water’s edge. I walked out of the waves and into her waiting towel.
“Was it bad?” she asked, wrapping it around me.
“No,” I said, and leaned my head against her shoulder. “It was a test.”
“Ah.”
“It went really well,” I said. “Other than I got mad at Reina at the end because it was a test.”
“I see.”
“Then I marched off before I did something really stupid. So I came for a swim.”
Daria guided me back to the chair and dried me off before helping me back into my gown. Her quiet presence promised me that everything would be okay. That I would be okay. I’d shown Reina tonight that I did have value. I might not be able to produce children, but tonight I had produced results.
THE NEXT MORNING, I “picked up the file” and continued on. R’Kesh was one neighbor. I would eventually need to meet with the others.
Reina found me in the library. “I do apologize,” she said. Her hands were grasped in front of her, and I was surprised to see a look of contrition on her face. “You are right. I should have told you what was at stake.”
I closed the book I’d been reading. “Yes, you should have. I understand why you didn’t, but you should have.”
Reina glanced around. Harrig was nowhere to be seen. For all intents and purposes, we were alone. She took a chair across from me. “There is one thing,” she whispered. My heart gave a thump. Reina reached out and took my hand. “You can’t let anyone know. You can’t let anyone know … you’re barren.” She lifted her head, and I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “The succession is difficult. Enartin and I despaired about it until we were blessed with Valemar.”
“Daria said that Adzil Jaharan married the last Carbrev princess.” Reina nodded. “Which was when?”
“She was Enartin’s great aunt. Ӧtten’s sister.”
“Are there any moon children?” I asked. “Could a moon child inherit?”
“There has been no precedent because they enter service.”
“Ruling a country is service,” I said.
Reina smiled. “It is. But removing someone from service has never been done before.”
“Ah. And to change a system that works —”
“Is to invite potential chaos,” she finished. “Yes, we’d thought about that.”
“Where is the line now? It’s been four? Five? Generations since there were two princes?”
“Valemar’s great-great-grandfather was one of three brothers and a sister.”
“And where are their offspring now?”
“Toren, the youngest brother, moved to Snow Reach and married a Darland princess. Carwyn, the middle brother, died defending Aedenfal during an attack.”
I gasped. “But no one talks of it. The Cordair?”
Reina gave a tight nod. “It was a long time ago now. A spare uncle. It is said that Toren fought fiercely.” My eyes widened. Reina nodded. “Yes, he was there, too. There wasn’t much left of the Cordair army by the time the Alfari drove them back to the gates of Rock Dorach. Some say it was only a karawack from Dönal that kept Toren from burning the city.
“Toren turned his back on Bánalfar after that. Went south and found comfort in the arms of the Darland princess. Said Aedenfal would always be colored by his brother’s blood and he’d no wish to see it ever again.”
“So his line would inherit,” I said.
Reina’s expression became pained. “No. Technically a daughter could inherit.”
I groaned. “So, because Adzil married Lareen, the R’Keshans …”
“Yes, could be next in line.”
Reina rubbed my hand, still in her grip. “You are a woman worthy of my son. Is there no …?” She swallowed. “Your gods must be different.”
“Yes and no,” I said.
“Do you pray to them?”
I shook my head. “Not as often as I should.”
Her eyes found mine and pled with me. “Do they grant miracles? Are there miracles in your travels? Do your people ever conceive with others?”
I hadn’t been able to tell her the first time, but this time it slipped out on its own. “Yes,” I said. And then I couldn’t pull it back. I prayed it wouldn’t give her false hope.
Reina bent forward and kissed my head. “Then I shall ask the Mother and the Father.” She cupped my face with her free hand. “It took me five years, and then I got my miracle.” Her thumb rubbed my cheek. “And there was no prophecy about me.”
I decided my next step would be to meet with the Capali ambassador. Reina had set up the last meeting, and she could set this one up, as well. But it would be of my choosing, and we would strategize together first.
“If R’Kesh is going to provide us with steel, is your brother going to provide us with darana?” I asked Reina at dinner.
Reina finished chewing her bite of stewed meat. “I’ve put out feelers.”
“And since you thought it was so important that I meet the R’Keshan ambassador, shouldn’t I meet the Capali?”
Her eyebrows raised then lowered. “I suppose you should.”
I smoothed the folds of my dress as Daria hooked the necklace around my neck. The silky drapes were a deep, grassy green. “Like the fields in Capalnoc,” she had said.
The dress was more substantial, and so was the necklace, than the ones I’d worn for dinner with the Sapir. “I take it that I’m not supposed to impress Aren with my bosom,” I said.
“Ha! Reina would not thank you for that.” Daria stepped back and looked me over. “Unlike the R’Keshans, Capali women don’t go flaunting their sexuality. Remember, they’ve bred the sort of woman who coul
d kill a maskpol.”
“Great,” I said, and moaned. “You do know I’m considered a klutz.”
Daria’s brow furrowed. “Klutz?”
“Awkward. The kind of person who’d trip over their own feet.”
“You are not awkward,” Daria said. “You ride well.” Her face colored, and she lowered her eyes. “You’re good with a blade.”
My face flamed as I recognized the double entendre that had colored her cheeks. “Yes,” I whispered, acknowledging her last statement. “I guess I am.” How had that happened?
“Those are traits that the Capali admire. Be you.” Daria took my hand. “I know you feel like you are walking blind, but you need to let that fear go. You do know how to do this.”
If it had been another other place, any other client, I would have agreed with her. It had taken me so long to get to the where I accepted that I might be the answer to a prophecy, and yet … I felt like if I embraced it fully, was arrogant enough to truly believe, then the gods would laugh and say, Nope! Not you! and things would be worse than if I’d never come at all.
One more meeting, one more piece set in motion, and it could all come crashing down.
Just like my marriage.
“What if I’m wrong? What if I’m not …” I whispered.
“I believe,” Daria said. “I’ve always believed. From the moment I walked into your room at Aedenfal and saw how different you were, experienced how kind you are.” She reached out a hand and touched my face. “The gods sent you to us, Astrid. Your ship was doomed, and you along with it. But it brought you here, just as foretold, and you were saved. You will save us all.”
I squeezed her hand and nodded.
“And tonight I will save you from yourself. What do the Capali revere?” Daria asked. My brain whirred.
“Strength,” I answered automatically, and the mental file flicked open. “Respect. Independence.” It was what made them such excellent horsemen.