The Queen of Ieflaria

by Effie Calvin

  The day seemed to be fair, and so Esofi began walking in the direction of the gardens. Adale hurried to meet her pace so that they were side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other for the briefest of moments. The footsteps of her ladies sounded behind Esofi, their presence simultaneously reassuring and irritating.

  The gardens, fortunately, were not crowded just yet, though Esofi had a faint suspicion that some of the nobles and servants hadn’t decided to venture outside until they’d seen the princesses leaving. Court life was the same, no matter the country. It was almost impossible to ever be truly alone.

  “I wanted to apologize properly,” said Adale at last as they walked through an avenue of hedges. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear I did not ask Theodoar to challenge you.”

  “But you asked him something,” said Esofi, pausing in her stride.

  “I didn’t…” Adale stopped walking as well. She looked defeated. “No. You are right. I did. I just…I never thought that he would bring you into it.”

  “How could that be?” questioned Esofi.

  “I thought we would just be able to leave without calling any attention to ourselves,” explained Adale. “Just…slip away in the night.”

  Esofi pressed her lips together.

  “It wasn’t because of you!” cried Adale. “Please, even if you don’t believe anything else I have to say, at least listen to this. I do not find you unappealing.”

  “Then why?” asked Esofi.

  “Ieflaria does not deserve me.” Adale shook her head. “And neither do you. I could not make you happy, and I certainly would not make a good queen. I thought perhaps you would be engaged to someone more suitable in my place, someone who could give you what you needed.”

  “Why are you so certain that you wouldn’t?” asked Esofi.

  Adale shrugged. “I know myself. There’s no sense in lying. You told Theodoar that he was a child, that he was selfish, and…and all those other things you said. I am no different. If anything, I am worse.”

  “Do you not believe you have the capacity for change?” asked Esofi.

  “I do not know,” admitted Adale. “When I think of ruling, I feel sick. I can’t breathe and all I want to do is run away because one wrong decision could ruin everything for thousands of people, and I’m very, very good at making wrong decisions!” Her voice broke on the last word.

  “You don’t think I’m not afraid too?” asked Esofi softly. “To be afraid to rule a nation is not cowardice. It is common sense.”

  “But you’d do it anyway?” asked Adale.

  “It is my responsibility,” said Esofi. “Perhaps things work differently in Ieflaria. It seems only the eldest siblings strive to be worthy of their titles, while the younger ones are allowed to spend their days in idleness. It is as though you are unaware what could befall—” She stopped short, horrified, as she realized too late that Adale knew all too well what could befall a firstborn.

  But Adale shook her head. “No. You’re right.”

  “I did not mean—” Esofi began.

  “You’re right,” Adale repeated firmly. “We’ve been fortunate. We haven’t had a plague in ages. We haven’t fought a war since we declared independence, and that was hardly a war at all. We’ve had so many people blessed with Eyvindr’s magic that we could probably salt our fields and still get a good harvest. The dragons have been a problem, but we don’t usually lose our heirs, and the nobility has been prosperous enough that they can afford to let their younger children run wild. Things were good for so long that I think we forgot it could be any other way.”

  Esofi looked at her searchingly. “Why did you not run when you had the chance?”

  “I can’t explain it,” said Adale. “It’s just…the duel, and you, and my cousins, and… I’m so terrible at explaining myself. I must seem like a babbling child.” Adale pressed her hands to her forehead. “Where to even begin?”

  Esofi said nothing.

  “I suppose…the night before the duel. When I met you after the hunt. I wanted to tell you then that I was leaving, and you could marry one of my cousins instead. But when I saw you, I couldn’t. And so I left it to Theodoar. And of course he…” Adale shook her head. “I love him, but he is such a fool.”

  Esofi swallowed. You love him? She wanted to ask, but she did not. Those were questions for Lisette’s mouth, not Esofi’s.

  “You must understand. I wasn’t raised the same way you were. I always thought I would be allowed a say in who I married. The idea of an arranged betrothal is frightening to me, even now.”

  “But you are a princess!” Esofi was incredulous. “Making an advantageous marriage is one of your responsibilities—one of your apparently very few responsibilities.” Esofi knew she was being rude, but Adale didn’t seem to mind the insult.

  “Haven’t you ever been in love?” asked Adale.

  Esofi was taken aback, and she raised her head defiantly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to be in love with the one you marry?” Adale pressed.

  “Well, yes,” said Esofi. “I suppose. Yes. If at all possible. But most couples of our station are married first, and grow to love one another afterward with Pemele’s guidance.”

  “Some might be afraid to take such a risk.” Adale scuffed her shoe into the stone pathway awkwardly.

  “Is it because you are in love with someone else already?” asked Esofi.

  “Gods, no, Esofi!” Adale pressed her hands to her forehead. Her face began slowly turning red. “Is that what you think?”

  “You just told me that you love Theodoar,” said Esofi.

  “I do love Theodoar,” agreed Adale. “I love him as I loved Albion. But I am not in love with him. Is that what you thought?”

  Esofi bit her lip and said nothing.

  “I have been worried about you,” said Adale, her silver eyes staring into Esofi’s. “When your ladies told us that you wouldn’t be able to make it to the signing, I was afraid you were planning to leave Ieflaria forever. Then you weren’t at dinner, and you didn’t go to the evening service—”

  “You went to a service?” interrupted Esofi, her eyebrows rising.

  “Yes! Well…most of one,” said Adale. “I left before the closing rites. They’re always so dull! I don’t think anyone noticed.”

  Esofi gave a quiet little sigh.

  “My point, though,” said Adale, “is you’re so…you care so much for Ieflaria already. You only just got here, and you’re making all sorts of plans, and everyone’s convinced things are going to improve because of the battlemages, and I don’t know anything about anything and I’ve lived here all my life! I know when people talk about me, they say I’m an overgrown child. And it’s never bothered me before, not really. But when they talk about you…they say you’re going to be our queen. Nobody’s ever said that about me.”

  “Do you want them to?”

  “I don’t know!” Adale sounded anguished. “I don’t know—and even if they did, they would be wrong. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what you’ve added to the marriage contract. I don’t know if it says I can never go riding again or drink excessively or if I have to be in by sundown—”

  “What,” interrupted Esofi, “are you talking about?”

  Adale didn’t respond right away. She seemed to be trying to catch her breath. “The marriage contract,” she said at last. “I know you added something to it. You mentioned it the other night. Something that wasn’t in your agreement with Albion.”

  “And you believe that it is related to your conduct?” Esofi fought to keep her lips from curling into a smile. She wasn’t sure if she was successful or not.

  “What else would it be?” reasoned Adale.

  Esofi sighed. “The addition that was made to the marriage contract had nothing to do with you. If you’d only asked, I would have told you.”

  Adale’s face changed. “What? But then, but
then what could possibly be—”

  “It was a grant,” said Esofi. “A one-time payment of one hundred thousand crowns for the establishment of a university for the teaching of magics, to be managed under the guidance of the Temple of Talcia. The university will also receive an additional ten thousand crowns for every year that follows, for the purpose of salaries and maintenance.”

  Adale’s mouth fell open.

  “We have a university in Rhodia, and it has served us well for hundreds of years,” Esofi explained, since Adale seemed to be having difficulty with words. “The battlemages I have brought are not immortal. Sooner or later, they will need to be replaced, and some may wish to return home. Constantly importing them from Rhodia would be wasteful when we could educate and hire Ieflarians.”

  “You got one hundred thousand crowns out of my parents?” Adale whispered.

  “It’s not spending money!” huffed Esofi. “Have you even been listening to me?”

  “I’m listening! I’m not allowed to be impressed now?”

  “Well, if you’re hoping that I mean to pocket some of it, let me tell you that you are sadly mistaken,” said Esofi. “As I indicated to you before, the worship of Talcia has been neglected for far too long in your country. My priority is to completely revitalize her temple here in Birsgen. It’s in shameful condition compared to the Temple of Iolar, or so I am told.”

  “Oh,” said Adale.

  “I would like the university to be built on the temple grounds as well,” continued Esofi. “If there is not enough land, I intend to purchase the surrounding properties in the temple’s name.”

  “Oh,” Adale repeated. It seemed to be all she was capable of saying. “Well…”

  “I am to visit the Temple of Adranus today,” continued Esofi. “I am told it is not far from the Temple of Talcia. So perhaps if the tour does not take up too much of my time, I will be able to speak with the archpriestess of Talcia. I think she will be glad for the news.”

  “I’m sure she will,” said Adale. “And all of our temples are in the same area of the upper city, so it won’t be much trouble for you to go directly to Talcia from the hospital.”

  Esofi nodded. “Yes. The…hospital.” She felt her lips press together in dismay at the word, strange and unfamiliar. “I fear the Temple of Adranus may have fallen to heresy. The things I have been told are…troubling, which is why I have chosen to prioritize it over my visit to Talcia’s temple. I sincerely hope that we won’t have to burn it.”

  “Well, I think—” began Adale again. Then her brow furrowed. She looked Esofi in the eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

  “I said, I hope we will not have to burn it,” repeated Esofi. “It would be a dreadful waste of resources.”

  Adale’s mouth moved, but no words were forthcoming. Esofi waited politely for the crown princess to formulate a sentence. Finally, Adale said, “Have you spoken to my parents about your…uh, your concerns?”

  “No,” admitted Esofi. She’d wanted to, especially after speaking to the archmage, but there had been no time. “Not yet. But surely they cannot be oblivious to what is happening.”

  “Right,” said Adale, speaking very slowly. Esofi had the feeling that she was trying to pick her words carefully. “I wonder if I could trouble you to explain exactly what you’re worried about? Perhaps with an emphasis on why you believe the hospital needs to be burned?”

  “Is it not obvious?” asked Esofi. “The priests of Adranus have rejected their duties as healers. Instead, they have turned to those grotesque practices that your court mage seems so impressed by. Cutting people open with knives and—and talking about tiny invisible creatures and all those other horrible things he told me.” Esofi shuddered, and then shook her head. “I cannot imagine Adranus condoning such barbaric practices.”

  “The Temple of Adranus has made some incredible breakthroughs in the past years,” pointed out Adale with a frown. “As I said, we haven’t had a plague in… I don’t know. Decades. Maybe even a century.”

  “Hm.” Esofi was unconvinced, but she was not in the mood for a fight, or at least not until she spoke to the archpriest and inspected the facility for herself. “Well, I shall make up my mind today.”

  “Allow me to accompany you, then,” said Adale with more than a hint of urgency in her voice. “Please.”

  Esofi pressed her lips together again. “It is a public establishment and so I can hardly stop you. But I didn’t think you cared for matters of theology.”

  “It’s less the theology and more the burning down of important buildings,” said Adale. “I apologize if I seem to be harping on the subject, but—”

  Esofi rolled her eyes. “You do not think I will act before consulting with Their Majesties, do you? If it is determined that the temple grounds need to be purified—”

  “They don’t,” interrupted Adale.

  “Crown Princess, I mean no disrespect, but by your own admission, you cannot even sit through an ordinary evening service,” Esofi pointed out. “I hardly think you are qualified to judge.”

  “And you are?” retorted Adale. “You’re not Iolar. You’re not Talcia. And you’re not Adranus. You’ve no right to claim your opinions are the same as theirs unless they’ve told you so themselves.”

  “We have been granted magic so that we are constantly reminded that our influence upon Inthya is only due to the will of the gods,” said Esofi. “To alter the world in other ways is hubris.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Adale. “We already create so much without the use of magic. Even you don’t use magic for everything. If I build a house without the use of magic, am I committing a sin?”

  “That is not the same,” Esofi said impatiently. “Any peasant can build a house or at least learn how to. It is not some secret knowledge—”

  “But why not?” pressed Adale. “Because we already understand it?”

  “Yes!” said Esofi.

  “But you wrote the new segment of the marriage contract yourself, didn’t you?” asked Adale.

  “I did. What of it?” asked Esofi suspiciously.

  “I could never do that,” explained Adale passionately. “I’m terrible with words, and even if I wasn’t, I haven’t the attention for such things. Writing anything longer than a letter is impossible for me.”

  “That’s nonsense. You just haven’t been properly educated—” Esofi began.

  “No,” interrupted Adale. “I think it’s because you’ve stolen forbidden knowledge or possibly been in contact with demons. Because if I don’t understand it, that’s the only reasonable explanation and now I must burn you.”

  Despite herself, Esofi felt a laugh escape her mouth. Adale looked relieved at the sound. Perhaps she’d been expecting Esofi to yell at her instead. And perhaps Esofi had been intending to. She wasn’t certain.

  “You’re right, you know,” said Adale after a short pause. “I probably am not qualified to speak about things like…this. But I think…I think if the gods really are watching us, I think they’d be proud of how much we’ve learned. I don’t think they want us to be naked, helpless children living in caves or, or being eaten by dragons.”

  “I do not know,” said Esofi wistfully. “If only they would speak to me, things would be so much easier.”

  “You seem to be doing well, though,” said Adale. “You’ve already accomplished so much, and once the contract is signed…”

  “It may seem that way to you,” sighed Esofi. “But…you’re not the only one who is afraid. Sometimes I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve had all this training, but it was just that. Training. None of it has been real, until now. I keep expecting someone to announce that I am a fraud, but nobody ever does.”

  “You killed real dragons, didn’t you?” asked Adale.

  “Yes,” said Esofi. “But that’s…that was far more straightforward.”

  Adale laughed.

  “I mean it!” cried Esofi. “And even if I made a mistake
, there were always other battlemages who could have stepped in. But treaties and contracts and laws aren’t like that. If I make the wrong choice, there will be no one there to protect us. I could doom us all so easily.”

  “You are not going to doom anyone,” said Adale. “I can’t believe you could say such a thing about yourself. You’re more capable than anyone else our age in the castle! And, and besides, you’re not going to be alone. My parents aren’t going anywhere, and they have all their advisors, too.”

  Esofi met Adale’s eyes and then looked down at her hands. “You know, though,” she said. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” said Adale. “But—but the difference between you and me is you’re incredible and I’m hopeless.”

  Esofi laughed and hit Adale’s shoulder, lightly, with her fan. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she laughed. “If you were truly hopeless, your parents would not have made you their heir.”

  “That’s complicated,” said Adale quietly.

  “Listen to me,” said Esofi. “Maybe you’re not very good at reading and writing and memorizing facts. Maybe you aren’t blessed by any of the gods. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have other skills. Different skills. You only need to identify them.”

  Adale swallowed. “Well, maybe,” she said, but the words came out strangely hoarse. She coughed a few times, as though there was something stuck in her throat. Before Esofi could ask if she was all right, they were interrupted.

  “Crown Princess!” A maid was all but running toward them, her maid cap askew. Adale and Esofi both turned to look at her.

  “What’s the matter, Runa?” Adale asked, stepping forward.

  “Forgive my intrusion.” Runa curtsied at Esofi, and turned back to Adale. “Crown Princess, I have a message from Her Majesty. She says that you are to report to the throne room immediately to greet the Duke and Duchess of Valenleht.”