by Effie Calvin
“At least speak to her,” Theodoar urged. “See if she would be open to breaking off the betrothal in favor of one of your cousins. And then we can leave for my parents’ estate before Their Majesties find out. We can hide out in the lodge if they send guards. And by the time we return, they’ll have forgotten their anger, and things will go back to the way they ought to be.”
“Perhaps,” said Adale, guilt filling her heart as she thought of her parents’ true opinion of the twins. Still, Theodoar sounded completely certain, and it was difficult not to smile when he seemed so optimistic. “I suppose it’s just…she seems so delicate. I do not wish to hurt her.”
“It’s not personal, Adale. It’s politics,” Theodoar reminded her.
“And if she refuses?” questioned Adale. “Do we just run anyway and hope for the best?”
“Perhaps,” said Theodoar, but now his eyes were distant with thought.
They rode back to the stables in silence. When they arrived, the young nobles were already making plans to go into the city and patronize a string of taverns. It was nothing too unusual, especially after a day like the one they’d had. But Adale found herself wanting nothing more than to fall into bed and forget the world for a few hours, and so she bid them all good night and began the journey back to her rooms.
As Adale dragged her feet across the carpets, she heard a burst of conversation in a language she didn’t understand, followed by some sweet, gentle laughter. She looked up and saw Esofi and all three of her waiting ladies walking toward her, moving slowly in their heavy Rhodian dresses. Esofi was dressed in a pale-blue gown with lacy white ruffles and white silk flowers sewn onto every available surface. There was even a tiny matching bonnet perched on the top of her curls.
Adale had never had a care for her appearance in her life, but now she felt oddly self-conscious in her riding clothes. She had no mirror, but she could only imagine how she must look to the ladies of Rhodia. Adale risked a glance down at herself, and saw with great relief that there did not appear to be any bloodstains on her coat or trousers.
“My lady!” Esofi had noticed her at last. “Have you just returned from your hunt?”
“I… Yes, Princess,” said Adale. Esofi came to a halt, leaving a few prudent steps between them. Esofi’s ladies were whispering to each other behind their fans, but the princess did not seem to notice. The smile on her round, earnest face seemed genuine, though Adale knew that it wasn’t a guarantee of anything.
“I hope nobody was injured?” pressed Esofi.
Adale shook her head. “No, everything was as planned.” She paused awkwardly, unsure of how to continue. Surely Esofi did not want to hear the details of how she’d killed the stag.
“I’ve been trying to learn the layout of the castle,” explained Esofi. “I do hate to trouble the servants for directions when they’re so busy. But I shall have it soon enough, I think.”
“Oh,” said Adale. “Well, uh…”
“I also met with Their Majesties today,” continued Esofi. “I’ve reviewed the marriage contract and found it to my liking. I suppose I will see you tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow?” repeated Adale, wondering if she was being dismissed.
“At the ceremonial signing,” prompted Esofi. When Adale said nothing, Esofi added, “Of the marriage contract.”
“Tomorrow?” Adale just barely kept a shriek out of her voice. “It’s so soon?”
“Surely my lady was informed,” said Esofi, worry entering her soft brown eyes for a moment. And now that she mentioned it, Adale did seem to recall her father’s squire, Ilbert, telling her something about something happening on some date, and her presence would be required, but…
“Oh.” Adale’s voice sounded as though she’d just been punched in the gut. “Naturally.”
Esofi did not look to be particularly reassured, and Adale supposed she could not blame her.
“I have also added some conditions of my own to the contract,” explained Esofi. Adale froze as her mind was flooded with one horrible scenario after the other. Had the princess added a personal code of conduct for Adale? A ban on drinking? Or hunting? Or riding? Or anything that wasn’t sitting quietly in prayer? “Their Majesties were quite happy with the additions.”
That cemented it for Adale. It was a ban on drinking!
“Oh.” Adale tried to remember if she had enough linens in her bedchamber to construct a rope long enough to climb out the window and flee Ieflaria forever. “Well, I…I should want to review that, then, I suppose…”
“I would like it if you did.” Esofi’s eyes were warm again. “We’ve had none of your input so far. I feel as though I’m marrying your parents, not you.”
Now was the time to mention her cousins, Adale realized with a small sinking feeling in her heart. She hadn’t wanted it to be like this, an abrupt declaration in a hallway, but things were moving so quickly. It might even be the only chance she ever got. If only there were more time!
How to phrase it, though? Adale was so clumsy with words. Surely, she’d find the worst possible way to convey the sentiment. And then Esofi would be so disappointed and hurt, and she might even cry, and then Esofi’s smallest lady, the one who looked like a snake transfigured into a girl, would step forward with venom spitting from her teeth and—
“Well,” said Esofi brightly. “We mustn’t be late for the sundown service. Good night to you, Crown Princess Adale.”
“I…but…yes.” Coward! Adale cursed herself. You worthless, worthless coward. “Good night, Princess Esofi.”
The ladies departed, leaving Adale standing there alone but for her racing heart.
Adale all but ran back to her rooms, hands trembling. It took a moment to open her door because the key kept missing the lock. Once inside, she hurried to her writing desk, which was seldom used, and searched the drawer for ink and paper. She took a few long breaths to settle herself and then composed a quick note.
Theodoar—
I have failed utterly. The signing of the marriage contract is to be tomorrow. I will not have enough time to propose our solution to the princess. Shall we go tonight? Respond quickly.
A
Adale folded and sealed the note with wax, blowing impatiently on it to make it cool faster. Once it was dry, or dry enough, Adale went out into the hallway and grabbed a passing page boy by the shoulder.
“Deliver this to Lord Theodoar immediately,” she ordered, shoving the note into his hand. “Return with a response tonight and there will be three gold coins in it for you.”
The page, who had probably been headed to the nightly service at the orders of whomever was in charge of him, brightened up and bolted off like a rabbit. Adale felt confident that even if Theodoar was not inclined to reply out of disgust for her failure, the page would badger him until he’d sent something in response.
Adale changed into her nightclothes simply to pass the time and paced around her quarters, occasionally stopping to rearrange some trophies. For some reason, her breathing was only coming in sharp, shallow bursts and her hands would not stop shaking. She was going to start kicking furniture over if she did not have a response soon.
The ringing of the bells signaled the start of the sundown service, but Adale ignored them. She’d always thought of the evening services as an even greater waste of time than the morning ones.
Since Albion’s death, Adale had barely set foot in the castle chapel or any of the great temples in Birsgen, except on certain holy days where the fight with her mother was more trouble than simply attending. She did not care. Everyone knew that the temples were corrupt, collecting mountains of tribute and speaking their own words in the place of long-absent gods.
At long, long last, the page boy returned. Adale gave him five coins instead of the promised three and tore the note open.
Adale
Fear not, I have a plan to buy us more time. Tomorrow, act as usual and speak as usual. I will take care of the rest. Trust me.
T
heodoar
Adale read the note over a few times in shock. Theodoar did not wish to leave immediately? He had a plan? The idea of Theodoar with a plan left her feeling uneasy, and she hoped Esofi was not in any danger.
Adale turned the note over, scrawled the words What are you going to do? on the back, and gave it to the page boy. And though she waited all through the night, waking at every hour with her heart threatening to dance out of her chest, a reply never came.
AT THE RINGING of the morning bell, Adale tumbled out of bed and hit the floor with a soft thump. She stayed there for a moment, contemplating the possibility of throwing herself from the window and putting her suffering to an end. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Lady Lethea was somehow alert enough after last night’s revelries to hear that her lady was awake and stumbled in to help her.
Adale usually disdained having help when she was dressing, but that day, she was glad for the extra set of hands.
“You are not well at all,” observed Lady Lethea. “Is it the princess?”
“What else?” asked Adale. “And…I believe Theodoar may be planning something foolish.”
“That’s unusual only in that you have not been included in the preparations,” pointed out Lady Lethea.
“Perhaps,” said Adale. “But…I am worried. Though I suppose he would never harm someone.”
“Harm someone?” Lethea met Adale’s eyes. “How do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Adale.
“You truly aren’t well,” repeated Lethea, pressing her hand to Adale’s forehead. “All this worrying! Don’t you dare turn into your mother.”
That, at least, made Adale laugh. “Very well, you’ve persuaded me. Let’s go to breakfast. They will all be shocked to see us awake at this hour.”
So, leaving Daphene to sleep off her headache, they went down to the banquet hall where all meals were served. Adale had a feeling that Esofi would be there and was looking forward to a reassurance that the princess was unharmed and, hopefully, still oblivious to Theodoar’s plans.
Adale had never been early for breakfast before, let alone on time, so it was a bit of a novelty that the servants were setting everything out in preparation. Beside her, Lethea yawned.
“Why have I agreed to come here?” she murmured. A servant drew the heavy drapes open with a great flourish, flooding the room with morning light, and Lethea flinched as though he’d brandished a sword at her.
“Over here,” said Adale, heading for a seat that would give her a full view of the doors so that she might see Esofi the moment that she entered. Unfortunately, the meal would not begin until the arrival of Adale’s parents, and so there was no food to keep her occupied in the meantime.
As the minutes passed, Adale began to worry that Esofi had decided to take breakfast in her own rooms or that something had befallen her. But surely if something had happened to the princess, the servants would be talking about it?
Soon enough, Esofi and her ladies entered. As foreigners, they were the only ones not required to dress in the mourning colors, and their bright dresses stood out against the servants and nobles in their dull shades of black and gray and occasional purples. Adale was glad that the mourning period would soon be over. She felt that she shouldn’t have to be reminded of her brother’s death every time she looked at someone.
Esofi must have sensed Adale’s attention upon her and met her gaze with a bright smile. Her gown that day was a pleasant shade of palest pink with puffed sleeves that ended just below the shoulder to accommodate long gloves made of lace. The fabric of her skirt had been pulled up and twisted into bows around the knee, revealing a second layer of ivory skirts beneath, embroidered and trimmed with pearls. Esofi somehow managed to take her seat without ruining any of it.
But before Adale could speak to her, the doors opened again and Their Majesties entered. Adale reflected that she seldom actually saw her parents unless they needed to shout at her personally rather than via a squire or servant.
“Adale!” said Queen Saski, not bothering to hide the shock in her tone as she spotted her daughter at the table. Immediately, all eyes were upon her. Adale tried not to glower. “You’ve come to a meal! Or perhaps I have been poisoned and am in the throes of hallucination.”
“I’ve come for the meal, not for you,” retorted Adale, but her words were lost in the shuffle of places as everyone in the room moved so that Adale could sit by her parents. Adale protested every step of the way, but it was no use and eventually she found herself in the chair beside her mother.
At least she was a bit nearer to Esofi, not that she could say anything important to her with her parents so close.
Esofi seemed to be eating surprisingly little, and was more concerned with answering her mother’s questions than anything else. Adale forced herself to pay attention, but they didn’t actually seem to be discussing anything important, merely a tour of the city that Esofi hoped to take soon.
Adale realized that her attention had drifted back to Esofi’s face again. There was such a warmth and softness about her that Adale found herself feeling relieved that she hadn’t mentioned her cousins last night.
In fact, for some reason, she found that the idea didn’t seem quite as satisfying as it had the day before. Adale’s parents’ assessment of her cousins the previous morning had been frighteningly accurate. If one of the twins was allowed to sit on the throne, the entire castle staff might give notice. And what about Esofi?
Adale glanced over at the princess. It would be like a rabbit marrying a wolf. The palace staff might be able to hold their own for a while and always had the option of leaving to find better employment, but Esofi would be trapped forever. Could Adale really leave someone, even a stranger, to such a fate?
Perhaps…perhaps if Adale did marry Esofi, it wouldn’t be as bad as she was anticipating.
Adale gave her head a shake. Was she going mad? Even if Esofi made a pleasant bride, there was no way Adale would be anything other than the most shameful queen in Ieflarian history. She forced herself to remember the threats her father had listed: dragons, pirates, the Xytan legion. Adale did not have the fortitude to contend with such issues.
Breakfast came to an end with the departure of the king and queen, who first made Adale swear that she would be at the signing of the contract in front of all the important members of the court that afternoon. When they were finally gone, Adale and Esofi seemed to come to an unspoken agreement and walked from the hall together, their ladies trailing behind.
“Have you plans for the day until the signing?” asked Adale. Perhaps if she stayed by Esofi’s side until then, she could make sure Theodoar’s plan did not cause the princess any harm.
“Certainly nothing that cannot be postponed,” said Esofi, looking up at Adale with hope in her eyes. “Now that we’ve settled the issue of stationing the battlemages, I’ve found myself with far fewer worries.”
“The battlemages?” repeated Adale. She vaguely remembered hearing something about that.
“To defend against the dragons,” said Esofi. “Your country has withstood them admirably, but it’s really wiser to engage them with Talcia’s magic. There will be far fewer casualties. When I first arrived, many were hoping a battlemage could be assigned to each particular location. Yesterday, I had to convince the Temple of Reygmadra that most battlemages are not powerful enough to defeat a dragon alone. The archpriestess was not pleased, but everyone agreed that we must take time to determine where the mages are needed most.”
“Oh,” said Adale. The Temple of Reygmadra, Goddess of Warfare and Eighth of the Ten, commanded Ieflaria’s military. They were the largest of the Eleven temples in Ieflaria, and second only to the Temple of Iolar in influence. Adale could not help but be impressed by Esofi standing up to the archpriestess. “The dragons have troubled us for as long as anyone can remember, but in recent years, it’s become…excessive. Nobody seems to know why.”
“Dragons can smell the presence of wealth,
” Esofi explained. “Precious metals and jewels have a scent to them, like meat or bread. Legends say they were once wise and reasonable creatures and even had the ability to speak. But as mankind grew civilized under Iolar’s guidance, we began to draw more wealth from the earth and the temptation became too great to resist any longer. When Talcia realized what they had become, she took their wisdom away and they became like animals. I suspect your nation is only suffering from these attacks because their population has grown too large for their islands. If we can cull their numbers, the worst of the attacks should cease.”
Adale realized that Esofi seemed to be walking in the direction of the castle’s chapel, but she wasn’t sure if this was intentional or not.
“How do you intend to do that?” asked Adale. “You wouldn’t send soldiers to the Silver Isles, would you?”
“Oh goodness, no!” said Esofi. “That would be a death sentence. There must be hundreds, perhaps thousands of dragons on those islands. Nobody can fight that many all at once.”
“You seem to be quite certain of things,” said Adale. She wondered if she would be equally confident if she hadn’t been such a terrible student.
“Not all things,” replied Esofi. “Only the few which I have been educated for. But few kingdoms can say they boast a mastery of magic in the way Rhodia does, and so I suppose that makes me valuable.”
Esofi paused as they reached the doors of the Chapel of the Ten. They were painted with a scene of Iolar and Talcia standing before the sun and the moon, respectively. The two reached for one another, their fingertips meeting briefly where the two doors fit together.
“Did you wish to go in?” asked Adale.
“No, I think not,” Esofi mused. “I do love this design, though. I see so little of Talcia in your country. She must be feeling neglected, I think.”
“Oh.” If there was anything Adale thought of less often than the worship of the gods, she could not recall it.