Winds of Vesperia - One Queen to Another
May. 6th, 2014 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eveglassNew story! I actually meant to write this before last session but didn't quite get around to it. So I'm writing it now. So there.
It has been said that an army marches on its stomach, and this is generally true. But in a more literal sense, an army marches on the feet of its many soldiers. No army, save perhaps the hosts of undead who never tire, can conduct a week-long march in a single sustained trudge. Even the most determined army, the most dedicated, the most impassioned, will ultimately require stops to rest. Even the armies of the United Elven Kingdoms had to halt occasionally on their press towards Pelsari.
Sky Marshal Selatria Dwinddare, Skyness of Phalaborwa, sat in her tent with a heap of paperwork before her. The light of a continual flame shone over troop casualty reports, requisition forms, deployment appeals, and dozens of other requests that crowded for her attention. A half-eaten dinner sat at her left elbow, an inkwell near her right. Soul-Eater stood in a weapon rack a few paces behind her, along with the rest of her equipment. Two guards were stationed in front of the door with strict instructions that the Marshal was not to be disturbed for at least two hours, long enough – Sela hoped – to get through the bulk of the papers in front of her before she slipped into reverie.
It came as something of a surprise, then, to see the tent flap open. It was not one of her guards who presented themselves but rather Queen T’ainesa, holding a bottle and two fluted glasses.
Sela rose, forcing down her initial annoyance to respond with civility. “Your Majesty,” she said.
“Skyness,” replied the Queen of Falan.
Sela’s face soured. T’ainesa smiled. “Still don’t like the title?”
Sela took a deep breath. “I’m getting used to it. I suppose I don’t have much choice one way or the other.”
Queen T’ainesa took a few steps into the room and allowed the flap to fall back into place, and with it, the silence spells that protected any conversation from being overheard by anyone outside the tent. It was one of the many perks of leadership that Sela now found foisted upon her. “You don’t,” agreed T’ainesa. “One of the things most people don’t realize is that true power doesn’t rest in monarchs. We’re the symbols that most people use to distract themselves from the true source of power: bards and soldiers. If the bards decide to turn the people against you, you’ll never regain them. And if the solders turn against you, you have a military coup.”
“Like ours?” Sela asked lightly.
Now it was T’ainesa’s turn for a sour expression. “Yes, like ours. Though I would like to think that we have more cause than most.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
T’ainesa’s expression, if anything, became even more sour. “In private, could you please not call me ‘Your Majesty’? I have enough people fawning over me already.”
Sela’s brow furrowed. “But it’s your title. What else am I supposed to call you?”
“Call me T’ainesa,” said the Queen. “Hells, call me Esmeralda if you like! Sometimes I feel like I could use a reminder of those days!”
“I’ll… try,” said Sela. “It will take some getting used to.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow. “I imagine a lot of things will require getting used to,” she pointed out.
For a moment, the two women were quiet, considering this. Then Sela straightened. “Is there a reason you came to see me, Your… T’ainesa?”
The Queen, who had been fidgeting with the stem of one of the glasses, sighed. “Yes,” she said. She placed the two glasses on the table and deftly cut around the foil of the bottle with a small knife. “I need to talk to you. I brought mead. I thought it might help.”
With a curious expression, Sela made her way around her desk to the small sitting area at the front of her tent. “What do we need to talk about?”
The Queen did not answer immediately. She busied herself with removing the foil, uncorking the bottle, and pouring the amber liquid into the two glasses. She handed one to Sela and took her own in both hands. Finally, she realized she could put off the inevitable no longer. “When the children of barons, or dukes, or royalty are quite young, they’re generally taught what will be expected of them when they come of age. The lessons become more structured as they grow up. Oh, they might not listen. They might rebel against the whole thing. They might flee, like I did. But at least they know what’s expected. Their whole existence is shaped by it.” She paused, waiting for the point to sink in.
Sela raised an eyebrow. “So you’re here to teach me how to be a noble?”
T’ainesa rolled her eyes and sat down on one of the chairs before the low table. “I wish you wouldn’t think of it that way… but yes. There are things you need to know that no one else will tell you, and the sooner you hear them, the smoother your transition will be. In truth, I’ve wanted to talk to you since we did the ritual, but there just hasn’t been time.”
Sela took a deep breath and sat down facing the Queen of Falan. “All right,” she said dubiously. “I’m here, you’re here. Teach me.”
T’ainesa took a steadying sip of mead. “The first thing you need to know is that everyone wants something from you now. They want favor or money or land or prestige. Some of them want your blessing. Some want to serve you. Some want you dead. But everyone – everyone! – will have an opinion.”
Sela shook her head. “Some things will remain the same. My friends—”
“Will not treat you the same way,” T’ainesa interjected. “Think, Sela. Look at me. Look at what happened after I declared myself queen. You swore yourself in service. Jass, well, you saw the complications that happened there. The only one who I think still treats me the same is DAX, and that’s only because I don’t think he actually understands what’s happening most of the time. Can you imagine that the same things would have happened if I were still Esmeralda?”
Sela paused. “No,” she said grudgingly.
“Things will change,” T’ainesa said gently. “Maybe for the better. Maybe not. But they won’t stay the same. And if your friends treat you differently, think of how differently the masses will treat you: the officers and nobles who want to curry favor, the commoners who want money and farmsteads, the courtiers who want to twist you around their finger and wield true power with you as their puppet. You no longer have the benefit of anonymity.”
Sela took a drink from her glass. “And what am I supposed to do about it? I don’t have your skill at politics.”
“That’s what advisors are for,” said T’ainesa. “Find people you can trust, ones you think will give you good advice and tell you the truth, even if it’s not what you want to hear. And listen to them.”
Sela raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been to your court. You never listen to your advisors.”
“Yes, well, I have more experience than you do and I’ve done it for longer,” said T’ainesa flippantly.
Sela raised an eyebrow.
“…And I should listen to them more,” T’ainesa concluded with a sheepish grin. “Look, I’m telling you what you should do. Things might go easier for me too if I took my own advice.”
Sela shrugged. “All right. Everyone will want something from me, even though I don’t actually have anything to give them yet, and I should get advisors. What else?”
T’ainesa leaned forward. “You do have things to offer. That’s the next point. You might not realize it, because you’re used to being independent, and believe me, I admire that. But people will want to do things for you, and you can let them do it. They’ll want to carry your bags, make your clothes, do your hair—“
“My hair?”
T’ainesa shrugged. “I haven’t done my own hair since we returned to Galandreth.”
Sela looked at her in shock. “I’m perfectly capable of combing my own hair.”
T’ainesa took another drink from her glass. “I know,” she said. “So am I. You don’t think Bast did my hair for all those years on the Sovereign Will, do you? But the point is this: the person who does your hair gets fifteen minutes of your time, every morning. When you’re a queen, your time is one of the most valuable things you have. It’s a position of high honor, believe it or not.”
Sela rolled her eyes.
“I mean it,” said T’ainesa earnestly. “Whether it’s doing your hair or following you around at court or running errands – people will want to do things for you. What you need to ask yourself is whether it helps you or hurts you to have them do it. Usually it’s just easiest to let them. It makes them feel good. It makes them feel like they’re part of something greater than themselves to be serving their monarch.”
“I’m not monarch of anything,” Sela pointed out.
“You will be. And everyone knows it.”
“Not everyone.”
“We’ll sing again in Pelsari, after the High Queen takes her throne. Believe me, everyone will know.”
Sela drained her glass and poured herself another, topping up T’ainesa’s in the process.
“Besides,” said the Queen, “you’ll need allies to retake Phalaborwa, and the best way to gain allies is to allow people to feel close to you. You’d be amazed.”
“I suppose I would,” said Sela dryly, trying to incorporate this new way of thinking. The idea of letting people do things that she had been doing herself for years, for decades… It was hard enough to have aids and attachés as a military commander. To have valets and maids and sycophants as well…
She took another drink. “All right, what else?”
“You need a banner,” said T’ainesa.
Sela narrowed her eyes. “I fight in your army. I fly your banner.”
Queen T’ainesa shook her head vigorously. “Not anymore. Even in my army, you need to stand out as the head of your own contingent. It won’t do for you to be using my symbols. You need your own arms.”
Sela considered this. “Doesn’t Phalaborwa have arms?”
T’ainesa shrugged. “Maybe they did, once. But I doubt anyone remembers them anymore. It’s been thousands of years. Besides, my dear Admiral Jass has been perfectly willing to rename anything and everything. I’m sure he’d be willing to propagate the new arms of Phalaborwa. You might as well choose them yourself before he does it for you.”
Sela thought a moment. “An eagle in flight?”
T’ainesa gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sela, these are the arms of all Phalaborwa. I know Therrion is close to you, but is that really the symbol you want to represent your entire country?”
The Queen had a point, Sela mused. Besides, Therrion had already demanded that everyone begin calling him ‘Your Majesty.’ If he were on the arms of Phalaborwa, Sela imagined she’d never hear the end of it. “All right… do you have any suggestions?”
T’ainesa held her face carefully neutral. “No,” she said. “These are your arms, yours and your country’s. Choose something you think is fitting.”
Sela stood up and fetched some paper and the inkwell from her desk. For a few minutes, she let her hand trace over the paper, sketching designs and throwing them away. Queen T’ainesa watched quietly, sipping her mead.
After a few moments, Sela laid her design on the table. “How about this?” she suggested. “In the center, a crossed lance and sword – that’s my lance and Dawnstrider’s sword, the two families who will reclaim Phalaborwa. The field is black, to represent the swamps. And around the edge, a silver bordure to show that we’re the guardians of the elven kingdoms.”
T’ainesa considered the sketch before her. “It’s… simple,” she said at last. “Are you sure you don’t want more elements than that?”
Sela shrugged. “My own arms will have a crown in chief. I’ll give them that much. That’s all I want. My descendants can decide whether they’ve earned the right to add more.”
For a moment, T’ainesa looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Speaking of your descendants…”
Sela shot her a sharp glance. “The ones I don’t have yet, you mean?”
“The ones you need,” T’ainesa said firmly.
Sela shook her head. “I can’t have children yet. We’re in the middle of a war. I’m a war commander!”
“I know,” said T’ainesa, trying to soften the blow as much as she could. “But you’re also the only scion of the Phalaborwan royal line we know of. The only family members you have are the high priestess of Orcus and the orc-god’s avatar. Unless you have any siblings you haven’t told me about?”
“No,” said Sela bitterly.
“No,” repeated the Queen. “And I can’t believe you want the crown of Phalaborwa to pass to either of those two. Therefore…”
Sela took a long drink from her glass, realized it was empty, and refilled it again. “Not during the war,” she said again. “I can’t be a marshal and a mother at the same time. Besides, if we don’t succeed in pushing back the humans, it won’t matter who carries the Phalaborwan crown… or any other crown, for that matter.”
T’ainesa looked as though she had eaten something sour. “Don’t remind me,” she said. “But the point is that, if we do push back the humans, then you will need descendants. Either to rule Phalaborwa if you manage to reclaim it, or to continue the fight if you don’t. And, I should point out, to vote for the next High Monarch of the elves. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the fate of all the elven nations hinges on you having little Phalaborwan babies.”
Sela closed her eyes. “Is this the sort of talk you have with the daughters of barons and dukes?”
T’ainesa smirked. “No, we save this one for the princesses. And you’re really going to like the next part. You remember how I said the best way to make allies is to let people do things for you? I lied. The best way to make allies is to get married.”
Sela opened her eyes and stared.
T’ainesa cocked her head to the side. The irony practically dripped off her words. “Please. You’ve seen how much my dear husband and I are madly, passionately in love with one another. Do you really think we married for any reason other than a political alliance?” She swirled the liquid in her glass, letting it catch off the light of the continual flame. “You want allies in your fight to retake Phalaborwa? I know the High Queen promised you aid, but that’s not the same as having someone entwine their fortunes with yours. I can promise you this: the likelihood that your husband will be someone you love is exceedingly small.”
Sela stared at her a moment longer, then drained her glass in a single draught.
T’ainesa placed a hand on the younger monarch’s shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, you don’t need to spend any time with him, particularly once you’ve borne children. In fact, most people won’t expect you to. There’s nothing the court likes more than a good scandal, and just about every noble has at least one or two paramours. You’ll be able to be with whoever you want… more or less.”
Sela stared unhappily into her empty glass. “The way you’re able to be with the man you want, Your Majesty?” she asked pointedly.
Queen T’ainesa licked her lips and then finished off her mead. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said. She sighed. “I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to know how things are. This… is the way of things. You should be prepared for it.”
Sela placed her glass on the table. “Tell me there’s nothing else,” she said. “I don’t think I can take much more off this conversation.”
“There is, but none of it needs talking about today. I’ve mentioned all the major points. We can talk about the rest of it later.” She stood and placed her glass on the table. “I’ll leave you the mead, whatever’s left. I think you need it more than I do.”
Sela made no move to stand, her eyes focused on the sketch of her arms on the table.
“I’ll see myself out,” said T’ainesa. “And see to it that tabards are made of your arms before we reach Pelsari. Jass will make sure everyone knows what they represent.” She moved to the front of the tent and pulled back the flap. “Your Skyness,” she said.
And then she was gone, leaving Sela alone in her tent, the silence spells once more active. No one outside could hear what took place inside the tent, not even the guards stationed at the entrance. So no one heard the sounds of a table being smashed into pieces, of glass shattering, of screams echoing off the tent walls. By the next morning, Sky Marshal Selatria Dwinddare, Skyness of Phalaborwa, was completely composed.
The servants who came to prepare her tent for transport, however, had quite the surprise waiting for them.
One Queen to Another
It has been said that an army marches on its stomach, and this is generally true. But in a more literal sense, an army marches on the feet of its many soldiers. No army, save perhaps the hosts of undead who never tire, can conduct a week-long march in a single sustained trudge. Even the most determined army, the most dedicated, the most impassioned, will ultimately require stops to rest. Even the armies of the United Elven Kingdoms had to halt occasionally on their press towards Pelsari.
Sky Marshal Selatria Dwinddare, Skyness of Phalaborwa, sat in her tent with a heap of paperwork before her. The light of a continual flame shone over troop casualty reports, requisition forms, deployment appeals, and dozens of other requests that crowded for her attention. A half-eaten dinner sat at her left elbow, an inkwell near her right. Soul-Eater stood in a weapon rack a few paces behind her, along with the rest of her equipment. Two guards were stationed in front of the door with strict instructions that the Marshal was not to be disturbed for at least two hours, long enough – Sela hoped – to get through the bulk of the papers in front of her before she slipped into reverie.
It came as something of a surprise, then, to see the tent flap open. It was not one of her guards who presented themselves but rather Queen T’ainesa, holding a bottle and two fluted glasses.
Sela rose, forcing down her initial annoyance to respond with civility. “Your Majesty,” she said.
“Skyness,” replied the Queen of Falan.
Sela’s face soured. T’ainesa smiled. “Still don’t like the title?”
Sela took a deep breath. “I’m getting used to it. I suppose I don’t have much choice one way or the other.”
Queen T’ainesa took a few steps into the room and allowed the flap to fall back into place, and with it, the silence spells that protected any conversation from being overheard by anyone outside the tent. It was one of the many perks of leadership that Sela now found foisted upon her. “You don’t,” agreed T’ainesa. “One of the things most people don’t realize is that true power doesn’t rest in monarchs. We’re the symbols that most people use to distract themselves from the true source of power: bards and soldiers. If the bards decide to turn the people against you, you’ll never regain them. And if the solders turn against you, you have a military coup.”
“Like ours?” Sela asked lightly.
Now it was T’ainesa’s turn for a sour expression. “Yes, like ours. Though I would like to think that we have more cause than most.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
T’ainesa’s expression, if anything, became even more sour. “In private, could you please not call me ‘Your Majesty’? I have enough people fawning over me already.”
Sela’s brow furrowed. “But it’s your title. What else am I supposed to call you?”
“Call me T’ainesa,” said the Queen. “Hells, call me Esmeralda if you like! Sometimes I feel like I could use a reminder of those days!”
“I’ll… try,” said Sela. “It will take some getting used to.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow. “I imagine a lot of things will require getting used to,” she pointed out.
For a moment, the two women were quiet, considering this. Then Sela straightened. “Is there a reason you came to see me, Your… T’ainesa?”
The Queen, who had been fidgeting with the stem of one of the glasses, sighed. “Yes,” she said. She placed the two glasses on the table and deftly cut around the foil of the bottle with a small knife. “I need to talk to you. I brought mead. I thought it might help.”
With a curious expression, Sela made her way around her desk to the small sitting area at the front of her tent. “What do we need to talk about?”
The Queen did not answer immediately. She busied herself with removing the foil, uncorking the bottle, and pouring the amber liquid into the two glasses. She handed one to Sela and took her own in both hands. Finally, she realized she could put off the inevitable no longer. “When the children of barons, or dukes, or royalty are quite young, they’re generally taught what will be expected of them when they come of age. The lessons become more structured as they grow up. Oh, they might not listen. They might rebel against the whole thing. They might flee, like I did. But at least they know what’s expected. Their whole existence is shaped by it.” She paused, waiting for the point to sink in.
Sela raised an eyebrow. “So you’re here to teach me how to be a noble?”
T’ainesa rolled her eyes and sat down on one of the chairs before the low table. “I wish you wouldn’t think of it that way… but yes. There are things you need to know that no one else will tell you, and the sooner you hear them, the smoother your transition will be. In truth, I’ve wanted to talk to you since we did the ritual, but there just hasn’t been time.”
Sela took a deep breath and sat down facing the Queen of Falan. “All right,” she said dubiously. “I’m here, you’re here. Teach me.”
T’ainesa took a steadying sip of mead. “The first thing you need to know is that everyone wants something from you now. They want favor or money or land or prestige. Some of them want your blessing. Some want to serve you. Some want you dead. But everyone – everyone! – will have an opinion.”
Sela shook her head. “Some things will remain the same. My friends—”
“Will not treat you the same way,” T’ainesa interjected. “Think, Sela. Look at me. Look at what happened after I declared myself queen. You swore yourself in service. Jass, well, you saw the complications that happened there. The only one who I think still treats me the same is DAX, and that’s only because I don’t think he actually understands what’s happening most of the time. Can you imagine that the same things would have happened if I were still Esmeralda?”
Sela paused. “No,” she said grudgingly.
“Things will change,” T’ainesa said gently. “Maybe for the better. Maybe not. But they won’t stay the same. And if your friends treat you differently, think of how differently the masses will treat you: the officers and nobles who want to curry favor, the commoners who want money and farmsteads, the courtiers who want to twist you around their finger and wield true power with you as their puppet. You no longer have the benefit of anonymity.”
Sela took a drink from her glass. “And what am I supposed to do about it? I don’t have your skill at politics.”
“That’s what advisors are for,” said T’ainesa. “Find people you can trust, ones you think will give you good advice and tell you the truth, even if it’s not what you want to hear. And listen to them.”
Sela raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been to your court. You never listen to your advisors.”
“Yes, well, I have more experience than you do and I’ve done it for longer,” said T’ainesa flippantly.
Sela raised an eyebrow.
“…And I should listen to them more,” T’ainesa concluded with a sheepish grin. “Look, I’m telling you what you should do. Things might go easier for me too if I took my own advice.”
Sela shrugged. “All right. Everyone will want something from me, even though I don’t actually have anything to give them yet, and I should get advisors. What else?”
T’ainesa leaned forward. “You do have things to offer. That’s the next point. You might not realize it, because you’re used to being independent, and believe me, I admire that. But people will want to do things for you, and you can let them do it. They’ll want to carry your bags, make your clothes, do your hair—“
“My hair?”
T’ainesa shrugged. “I haven’t done my own hair since we returned to Galandreth.”
Sela looked at her in shock. “I’m perfectly capable of combing my own hair.”
T’ainesa took another drink from her glass. “I know,” she said. “So am I. You don’t think Bast did my hair for all those years on the Sovereign Will, do you? But the point is this: the person who does your hair gets fifteen minutes of your time, every morning. When you’re a queen, your time is one of the most valuable things you have. It’s a position of high honor, believe it or not.”
Sela rolled her eyes.
“I mean it,” said T’ainesa earnestly. “Whether it’s doing your hair or following you around at court or running errands – people will want to do things for you. What you need to ask yourself is whether it helps you or hurts you to have them do it. Usually it’s just easiest to let them. It makes them feel good. It makes them feel like they’re part of something greater than themselves to be serving their monarch.”
“I’m not monarch of anything,” Sela pointed out.
“You will be. And everyone knows it.”
“Not everyone.”
“We’ll sing again in Pelsari, after the High Queen takes her throne. Believe me, everyone will know.”
Sela drained her glass and poured herself another, topping up T’ainesa’s in the process.
“Besides,” said the Queen, “you’ll need allies to retake Phalaborwa, and the best way to gain allies is to allow people to feel close to you. You’d be amazed.”
“I suppose I would,” said Sela dryly, trying to incorporate this new way of thinking. The idea of letting people do things that she had been doing herself for years, for decades… It was hard enough to have aids and attachés as a military commander. To have valets and maids and sycophants as well…
She took another drink. “All right, what else?”
“You need a banner,” said T’ainesa.
Sela narrowed her eyes. “I fight in your army. I fly your banner.”
Queen T’ainesa shook her head vigorously. “Not anymore. Even in my army, you need to stand out as the head of your own contingent. It won’t do for you to be using my symbols. You need your own arms.”
Sela considered this. “Doesn’t Phalaborwa have arms?”
T’ainesa shrugged. “Maybe they did, once. But I doubt anyone remembers them anymore. It’s been thousands of years. Besides, my dear Admiral Jass has been perfectly willing to rename anything and everything. I’m sure he’d be willing to propagate the new arms of Phalaborwa. You might as well choose them yourself before he does it for you.”
Sela thought a moment. “An eagle in flight?”
T’ainesa gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sela, these are the arms of all Phalaborwa. I know Therrion is close to you, but is that really the symbol you want to represent your entire country?”
The Queen had a point, Sela mused. Besides, Therrion had already demanded that everyone begin calling him ‘Your Majesty.’ If he were on the arms of Phalaborwa, Sela imagined she’d never hear the end of it. “All right… do you have any suggestions?”
T’ainesa held her face carefully neutral. “No,” she said. “These are your arms, yours and your country’s. Choose something you think is fitting.”
Sela stood up and fetched some paper and the inkwell from her desk. For a few minutes, she let her hand trace over the paper, sketching designs and throwing them away. Queen T’ainesa watched quietly, sipping her mead.
After a few moments, Sela laid her design on the table. “How about this?” she suggested. “In the center, a crossed lance and sword – that’s my lance and Dawnstrider’s sword, the two families who will reclaim Phalaborwa. The field is black, to represent the swamps. And around the edge, a silver bordure to show that we’re the guardians of the elven kingdoms.”
T’ainesa considered the sketch before her. “It’s… simple,” she said at last. “Are you sure you don’t want more elements than that?”
Sela shrugged. “My own arms will have a crown in chief. I’ll give them that much. That’s all I want. My descendants can decide whether they’ve earned the right to add more.”
For a moment, T’ainesa looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Speaking of your descendants…”
Sela shot her a sharp glance. “The ones I don’t have yet, you mean?”
“The ones you need,” T’ainesa said firmly.
Sela shook her head. “I can’t have children yet. We’re in the middle of a war. I’m a war commander!”
“I know,” said T’ainesa, trying to soften the blow as much as she could. “But you’re also the only scion of the Phalaborwan royal line we know of. The only family members you have are the high priestess of Orcus and the orc-god’s avatar. Unless you have any siblings you haven’t told me about?”
“No,” said Sela bitterly.
“No,” repeated the Queen. “And I can’t believe you want the crown of Phalaborwa to pass to either of those two. Therefore…”
Sela took a long drink from her glass, realized it was empty, and refilled it again. “Not during the war,” she said again. “I can’t be a marshal and a mother at the same time. Besides, if we don’t succeed in pushing back the humans, it won’t matter who carries the Phalaborwan crown… or any other crown, for that matter.”
T’ainesa looked as though she had eaten something sour. “Don’t remind me,” she said. “But the point is that, if we do push back the humans, then you will need descendants. Either to rule Phalaborwa if you manage to reclaim it, or to continue the fight if you don’t. And, I should point out, to vote for the next High Monarch of the elves. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the fate of all the elven nations hinges on you having little Phalaborwan babies.”
Sela closed her eyes. “Is this the sort of talk you have with the daughters of barons and dukes?”
T’ainesa smirked. “No, we save this one for the princesses. And you’re really going to like the next part. You remember how I said the best way to make allies is to let people do things for you? I lied. The best way to make allies is to get married.”
Sela opened her eyes and stared.
T’ainesa cocked her head to the side. The irony practically dripped off her words. “Please. You’ve seen how much my dear husband and I are madly, passionately in love with one another. Do you really think we married for any reason other than a political alliance?” She swirled the liquid in her glass, letting it catch off the light of the continual flame. “You want allies in your fight to retake Phalaborwa? I know the High Queen promised you aid, but that’s not the same as having someone entwine their fortunes with yours. I can promise you this: the likelihood that your husband will be someone you love is exceedingly small.”
Sela stared at her a moment longer, then drained her glass in a single draught.
T’ainesa placed a hand on the younger monarch’s shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, you don’t need to spend any time with him, particularly once you’ve borne children. In fact, most people won’t expect you to. There’s nothing the court likes more than a good scandal, and just about every noble has at least one or two paramours. You’ll be able to be with whoever you want… more or less.”
Sela stared unhappily into her empty glass. “The way you’re able to be with the man you want, Your Majesty?” she asked pointedly.
Queen T’ainesa licked her lips and then finished off her mead. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said. She sighed. “I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to know how things are. This… is the way of things. You should be prepared for it.”
Sela placed her glass on the table. “Tell me there’s nothing else,” she said. “I don’t think I can take much more off this conversation.”
“There is, but none of it needs talking about today. I’ve mentioned all the major points. We can talk about the rest of it later.” She stood and placed her glass on the table. “I’ll leave you the mead, whatever’s left. I think you need it more than I do.”
Sela made no move to stand, her eyes focused on the sketch of her arms on the table.
“I’ll see myself out,” said T’ainesa. “And see to it that tabards are made of your arms before we reach Pelsari. Jass will make sure everyone knows what they represent.” She moved to the front of the tent and pulled back the flap. “Your Skyness,” she said.
And then she was gone, leaving Sela alone in her tent, the silence spells once more active. No one outside could hear what took place inside the tent, not even the guards stationed at the entrance. So no one heard the sounds of a table being smashed into pieces, of glass shattering, of screams echoing off the tent walls. By the next morning, Sky Marshal Selatria Dwinddare, Skyness of Phalaborwa, was completely composed.
The servants who came to prepare her tent for transport, however, had quite the surprise waiting for them.
