That beaming look was turned on him. “We’ll be home soon,” she corrected.
Luna chortled at that, a delightful sound on the morning air. Matthias couldn’t resist. “I don’t suppose she could ride with me for a bit?”
Danaë peered at her passenger. “I don’t see why not. Lovie, do you want to go with Gr—the king?”
Luna blinked, but didn’t fuss as they stopped and Danaë handed her over. The little girl did twist her head up, giving Matthias a considering look.
He winked at her, and she giggled. “Come on, little one. Time to go see your new home.”
****
The residents of Armede had heard about the royal convoy and were already lining the trade road as they went past, cheering and waving their hats once they spotted Danaë and Matthias. Matthias nodded and waved, keeping the reins in one hand and the other firmly around Luna’s tummy.
One wag shouted from the crowd, “Fast work, yer majesty! Is that yer new princess?”
Matthias shot him a quelling look, but Danaë shook her head and chuckled. “I didn’t think about what people would say if they saw her on your lap,” she admitted.
“Let them talk. Word would have gotten out soon enough.”
The rest of the crowd was more respectful as they rode up to the border. A pair of guards came out from the small octagonal guardhouse posted there, one Ypresian and one Hellene. “Good afternoon, your majesty,” the Ypresian guard called with a salute.
“Nothing to declare, I assume?” the Hellene guard said with a straight face.
It was Danaë’s turn to shoot an unamused look, but Matthias shook his head. “Returning your queen as promised,” he called out.
The Hellene border guard gave Danaë a respectful bow. “All of Hellaspont looks forward to your arrival, your majesty,” he said.
“As do we,” Danaë said. “Carry on.”
Both guards saluted again and the convoy continued into Hellas proper. On this side of the border there were more people lining the roads, but these crowds wore the lighter garb of the Hellenes, running towards belted tunics and cotton gowns with the occasional cape worn around the shoulders of those Matthias assumed to be merchants or other men of worth. He watched with pride as his queen greeted her people’s cheers, her cheeks glowing at the praise. There must be some way to spike that toad in Hellespont. I’ll speak to Ife, see if there’s some way he can be corrected by the Grand Synod.
He heard his name among the cheers and waved, and had a wonderful idea. Reaching across to Danaë, he took her hand and kissed it. The cheers exploded into roars of approval. She blushed, giving him a private smile that promised rewards later.
They stopped at the harbor customs house, where the expected group of officials waited to greet them. Flavia bustled up to take Luna, leaving Matthias and Danaë to meet with Georgios Pappioanu, the mayor of Mykos, and the grey-haired harbormaster, introduced only as Kotomatas. He nodded to Danaë, then Matthias. “The royal trireme waits at your command, your majesties,” he said in a rasping voice.
“The dockhands will see to the loading of your luggage, your majesty,” Pappioanu said, resting an elegant hand on his chest as he bowed to Danaë. “If you and his majesty would care to step inside with the rest of your party, we have refreshments ready for you.”
“Thank you, mayor,” Danaë said, slipping her arm in Matthias’s. “We have a young child with us, an orphan. Is there any chance of goat milk or sweetened cheese for her?”
Pappioanu didn’t blink an eye, although Kotomatas’s bushy brows went up in surprise. “It will be fetched immediately, your majesty.”
He gestured to the massive custom house double doors, already opened by guards. With a sweet smile for the mayor and harbormaster, Danaë sailed through with Matthias.
An hour of somewhat tedious conversation relieved by delicious refreshments followed. The conversation was driven by Danaë, Darius and Pappioanu, and Matthias was happy to leave them to it as he sipped the resinous wine that was a specialty of Hellas. Ife had found a chair by one of the windows overlooking the harbor and was quietly reading while Flavia had distanced herself from the royal party, settling in a corner with Luna on her lap and feeding the child tidbits of cheese and milk.
Luna wriggled, taking Flavia by surprise. She slid off the maid’s lap and landed onto her feet, then toddled straight to Matthias. He leaned over, touching her nose. “What is it, lovie?”
She raised her arms. “Up.”
“Ah.” He picked her up, settling her on one leg. She snuggled into his chest, playing with the golden chain looped around her neck.
“What a charming child,” Pappioanu said urbanely. “One of your subjects, your majesty?”
“She’s an orphan we met in a mining town on the other side of the mountains. Her majesty decided to take her in for fostering,” he said, nodding at Danaë.
Pappioanu’s gaze shifted to his queen. “How kind of you, your majesty. She’s a very lucky little girl to receive such largesse.”
“It’s my pleasure to care for one of my husband’s subjects,” Danaë said. “And she will be excellent practice for when the heir comes along.”
If the mayor was a cat Matthias imagined he would see whiskers twitching at that. “Oh. Should we expect to hear a happy announcement soon?” the man said with smooth equanimity.
Danaë gave him an opaque smile. “We shall see.”
With perfect timing there was a knock at the sitting room door, and Kotomatas poked his head into the room. “The trireme’s loaded, majesty. You can leave anytime you’re ready.”
“Excellent.” Danaë stood and everyone followed. “Thank you very much for your kindness, mayor. I’ll make sure you receive an invitation to the wedding.”
Pappioanu’s tan face lit up at that, and he bowed. “It would be an honor, your majesty.”
The party filed out of the room, following Kotomatas outside and further into the harbor. “Nice work,” Matthias muttered into her ear.
She gave him the same mysterious smile she gave Pappioanu. “It helps to keep the border officials happy. They don’t steal nearly as much that way,”
“Cynic.”
“No, a realist.”
The royal trireme’s berth was close to the custom house. The ship was a large one, with three levels and a solid, reliable look to it. The captain, a short man with a florid expression and a rounded belly, waited for them at the gangplank.
“Majesty,” he said, bowing. “It’s good to see you back.”
“Thank you, Andros.” Danae’s gaze sharpened. “Anything I should know about?”
“I have a report waiting for you in your cabin.” He turned to Matthias, giving another bow. “Welcome, your majesty. May you always sail in calm waters.”
“Thank you.” Matthias followed his wife up the gangplank, then down short staircase that was one step removed from a ladder. “I see you know where you’re going,” he commented.
“I’ve spent a great deal of time on this ship,” she said, stopping at a door at the end of the passage and opening it. The cabin was unexpectedly spacious, taking up much of the ship’s stern, and featured a set of box-like berths against one wall.
“This was Father and Mother’s cabin. She hated sleeping in hammocks, so he had those berths constructed for her,” she said, nodding at the boxy beds. Her expression turned introspective. “I’ve been using the ship for a year as queen, and it still seems odd staying in here.”
Before Matthias could say anything there was a brief rap at the door, and Flavia bustled in with Luna on her hip. “Everything’s squared away, mistress. They even loaded a goat on board for the little miss here, compliments of yon mayor.”
“My. He really wanted that invitation, didn’t he?” Matthias said.
Danaë patted his arm. “I should read that report,” she said, nodding at a large desk in the corner. “Darius is in the next cabin. I’m sure he’ll give you a tour of the ship.”
“Good.” He kissed he
r cheek. “I’ll try not to offend your sailors with my uncouth mainlander customs.”
She chuckled at that, but her attention was already on the desk. He decided to leave her to it.
****
Danaë sat back, musing over the contents of the scroll. The ship had gotten underway a few minutes ago, and the subtle rocking motion of the boat helped soothe her irritation.
Andros was part of a trusted network her father had established years ago. As the captain of the royal trireme, it was his task to ferry nobles and other favored individuals when he wasn’t carrying the royal family. That and his regular trips to all the major ports along the Eastern Sea put him in an ideal position to hear and pass on useful information.
His latest report contained a précis of a conversation between two wealthy merchants who were known friends of Grand Magister Pelas. The conversation contained an extremely derogatory critique of her performance as ruler over the last year. While unpleasant to read, it wasn’t actionable. All Hellene subjects were entitled to their private views of the ruler, no matter how vulgar.
It was the second part of the conversation that caught her attention. The two merchants discussed the possibility of bringing her father’s death to wider attention by the public, thereby forcing her to abdicate in favor of Darius. It was their considered opinion that Darius would be more amenable to certain laws they wanted to push through the royal council, such as lowered taxes on vintners and ability to impose indentured servitude on debtors who couldn’t repay their debts.
Gods, they have no idea how my brother thinks, do they? If Darius was forced onto the throne by her abdication, willing or otherwise, there was no way he would approve such ridiculous laws, particularly if they were promoted by cronies of Pelas. She drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment, musing over counteraction options.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her train of thought. “Come.”
Ife entered the cabin, the weariness of the trip gone and a new spring in her step. It was the same reaction to the sea as Danaë had, the energizing connection of a mage with their elemental force. “Am I disturbing you?”
Danaë pushed the scroll to one side. “Only from plotting ways to have Pelas stripped of his grand magister ranking,” she said drily. “A touch of public humiliation wouldn’t go amiss, either.”
“I see you stop short at assassination. Very wise,” Ife said, taking the chair in front of the desk. “Killing your tutor is frowned upon, after all.”
Danaë made an indelicate noise. “Father cautioned me to use assassination sparingly, and only after great thought. Pelas’s attempt to become my lover doesn’t warrant death, no matter how much I’d like to have the odious little polyp run through.”
“Yes, about that,” Ife said, settling into the chair. “He couldn’t have thought that you would bow to his wishes and climb into his bed, could he? You are the queen, after all.”
Danaë twisted her mouth. “There may have been a major misunderstanding on his part,” she admitted.
“Oh?”
“Part of his training method including having me write out spells and enchantments. He said it was a superior study technique when it came to memorization. He would then review my writings in order to correct my phrasing, look for mistakes, etcetera. One day I’d been in a hurry to get to his office for my lesson and grabbed a stack of papers from my desk.” She flushed, remembering the day. “Unfortunately, they included one document that contained some sophomoric love poetry about an older man.”
Ife’s eyes twinkled. “You were writing poetry about King Matthias.”
“Yes, some truly execrable lines that I’m very glad he’ll never see. In any case, Pelas stumbled across them while correcting my work. In his immense arrogance he assumed that it was about him, that I’d developed this secret passion for him over the years, and that this was my way of announcing said secret passion.” Danaë shuddered. “Which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He’s pleasant looking, I suppose, but he has an overly wide mouth that always struck me as toad-like.”
Her wry humor disappeared. “But then Father drowned, and I had to step onto the throne very quickly. I was already distraught over the suspicion that my spell casting that day might have created the rogue wave that killed him, so when Pelas summoned me to his office I’d hoped that it was to reassure me.
“As it turned out, he had something else in mind. We usually worked in his outer office, but that day he guided me into an inner chamber that held nothing but a divan covered with purple cushions, some flickering oil lamps and a table with two wine goblets. I should have known something odd was going on, but as I said I was distracted. There, Pelas sat me down, handed me a goblet of wine, and informed me in the most magnanimous of tones that he knew of my love for him.” She let out a short huff of unamused laughter. “I think I was too shocked to say anything. He went on to say that I needed a wiser head to guide me on the throne, so he was ready to become my lover and assist me in such endeavors. And then he reached for me.”
Ife’s attitude had turned disapproving. “What did you do?”
“Threw my wine in his face. By that point my brain had caught up with the situation. I believe I jumped to my feet and started screaming at him as well. He got up, spluttering, and insisted that I loved him, that he’d read the poetry that proved it. I told him he had no right to read that, and that it wasn’t about him in any case.”
The unpleasant memory sent prickles of unease across her skin. “That’s when I learned that hurting a man’s pride was far more dangerous than hurting him physically. Pelas drew himself up, looked down his nose at me, and said that consorting with a viper who was willing to kill her own father to gain the throne was far too dangerous for any sane man and he was sorry he’d even considered it.”
Her hands twined together on her desk, picking at the nails. “If I’d been a magistra, I would have challenged him to a duel right then and there. As it was, I flung my goblet at him. It hit him square in the nose and broke it. Everyone in the building could hear him roaring in pain as I stormed out of there.” Her lips pursed. “I think Lis Herself must have been guiding my arm.”
Ife had been listening to the story quietly. Now she nodded. “I wish I could say that I’m shocked at such behavior from a fellow mage, but that would be a lie,” she said. “Power has a tendency to be misused by those who shouldn’t be wielding it in the first place.”
“So I’ve noticed. In any case my lessons stopped and a state of undeclared war existed between us from that point onward. You and Darius are the only ones who know what he did.” She remembered her twin sputtering with fury, offering to have the grand magister gutted in some back street.
“Haven’t you told Matthias?”
“No.”
“For the gods’ sake, why not?”
Danaë spread her hands. “What can he do, magistra? He’s not a mage, and while he is a king the Grand Synod has a tendency to protect their own against outside interference. And the last thing I want is him losing his temper and trying to beat Pelas to a pulp. The little toad may be slimy as his namesake, but he’s very skilled and I don’t want him taking his vengeance out on Matthias.” She shook her head. “I’ve made a good start on spiking Pelas’s political influence in Hellaspont, and I’m working on making things very uncomfortable for him on a variety of other fronts. With luck, I can squeeze him out of Hellas within the year.”
Ife didn’t seem convinced, but finally nodded. “Just be careful, my dear. Polyps have a tendency to go poisonous when squeezed,” she cautioned. “Don’t put yourself in a position where the backsplash will fall on you.”
“Magistra, you’ve just described the life of a ruler.”
****
Dinner was served for the royal party in the captain’s cabin, and was the equal of any fine meal Matthias had ever enjoyed in Hellas. His stomach had taken some time to settle once the ship got underway, but after an hour or so he felt well.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Schrader. The lieutenant commander had turned a distinctive shade of green once he felt the first rocking motion, and raced for the railing to lose the bulk of his breakfast and lunch over it. Matthias wasn’t sure if he should offer his sympathies or ignore the man’s distress and salve his pride.
In the middle of his retching Darius had ambled up on deck, a goblet in one hand. “There’s always one,” he said, joining Schrader at the rail. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
“Please tell me it’s poison,” Schrader muttered, wiping his mouth.
“It’s mint tea with a few additional ingredients. Unless you enjoy bringing up chunks of your gut, I’d advise you to drink it.”
Schrader snatched the goblet from the Hellene prince with a glare, taking a cautious sip. He grimaced a little, but when it didn’t immediately come back up took another sip, and another.
“Good,” Darius said. “I’d say go down below and rest, but I know you’re going to ignore me. So go find a place to sit out of the way of the sailors and take deep breaths.”
Schrader glared at him. “You’re worse than my mother.”
“No, I just don’t want to listen to you vomit all the way to Hellaspont.” The prince winked and headed back below deck.
Not surprisingly, Schrader hadn’t shown up at dinner despite an invitation. Already at table, Darius smirked when Matthias mentioned it. “There’s only so much mint brew can do for a mainlander. It’s best if he eats plain gruel until we get home.”
Danaë stopped eating, putting her fork down. “Who are you feeding mint brew to?”
“Schrader. He spent the afternoon spewing chum.”
One dark eyebrow went up at that. Matthias caught the undertone between the siblings, but didn’t understand it. He resolved to ask Danaë about it when they got back to their cabin later.
It took longer than he expected, but he couldn’t complain considering the quality of the cuisine Andros’s cook provided. Danaë and the captain carried on a detailed discussion about the fishing fleet and how local weather was affecting it, with occasional comments from Darius.
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