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Alliances were forming because of it.
History was being made.
How was that weighty in a way that he’d miss dinner?
Again.
Not that I pined for him last night. Though his absence was noted, as were all the princes and kings.
Oh, who was I fooling?
I’d just climaxed for him on a rug in a palace garden. My first climax that wasn’t given to me by, well…me.
It wasn’t pining, but it was…something.
He broke into my thoughts and when he did, I felt my cheeks heating.
“At the very least, I’ll see you as I escort you to the wedding. Though I should hope to see you before.”
I nodded up to him.
“Enjoy your day, my princess.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
His eyes grinned even if his mouth didn’t (he’d noted my cheeks had warmed) and he turned to walk away.
He’d taken three steps when I called, “Cassius.”
He turned back to me, his brows raised.
“Don’t be too hard on Serena.”
He tipped his head to the side, considered me a moment, then replied, “We shall see.”
And with that, my prince walked away.
28
The Courtship
Queen Ha-Lah Nereus
Guest Suite, Second Floor, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
I sat cross-legged on the bed as my husband moved around the room.
I was annoyed.
But I did not share this with him in any way for he was talking and what he was saying should not make me annoyed, but instead concerned, relieved, and in part, joyous.
The problem was, my husband had started courting me.
And that was all well and good.
In fact, it was extraordinary.
Not to mention the way he was going about it was very sweet.
But now we were getting along.
Communicating.
A great deal.
He knew all about the fishing village from where I came.
How my mother caught a chill when I was thirteen and had died alarmingly quickly.
How my father was a seaman which meant he was away most of the time thus I was raised by my auntie, his sister, a woman I loved and considered my second mother.
How my father never really recovered from the loss of his beloved wife, who I looked much like, and thus he didn’t often spend time with me even if he was ashore.
I’d also told him how my grandfather was a smuggler, his territory: The Mystics, and sometimes the Northlands. He’d died to these activities, somewhere in The Mystics. One of his sailors finding his way home years later to tell the tale.
And I’d told him how my grandmother was like my mother, a great beauty. So much so, my grandfather had hidden her away and taken her on his ship before he wed her, so she would not come to the attention of the king.
Aramus knew my auntie made very good fishing nets.
He further knew I preferred coffee to tea in the morning. Ale to wine, if I wasn’t eating, for then I preferred wine.
And that I still had two crates of smuggled rum my grandfather had left behind. And, outside my clothes and some other personal belongings, because my grandmother had guarded these because they were of her beloved husband, and my mother had guarded them because they were of her beloved father, these were the only things I brought to his castle for now I guarded them too.
We had also discussed at length what was happening between Cassius and Elena. Mars and Silence. And what didn’t seem to be happening between True and Farah (even though it did, just in a friendly fashion—not exactly a love match were those two).
I had shared with him in some detail the piercing ceremony.
Indeed, my husband could (and did) lie for hours beside me, asking me questions and listening to me speak.
What he did not do was touch me, hold me, embrace me or sirens-damned kiss me.
Who ever heard of a courtship that didn’t include kisses?
Even holding hands.
Not me.
And I was finding I wasn’t fond of it.
But last night, he’d come to our rooms with tales that Cassius had instigated an unexpected, unintended bloodless coup at the diplomatic table of the King of Firenze, so they’d spent the entire afternoon and well into the evening negotiating this.
They’d even called in two Go’Doan, both of whom I’d met at the betrothal dinner (along with the one called G’Seph).
G’Jell and G’Liam were seasoned in the art of diplomacy, with Aramus sharing that the younger, Liam, was an adept negotiator. Though, he said it was True who seemed to be most capable of containing Gallienus’s kingly indignation.
But like all Go’Doan, Aramus did not trust Liam.
This was because he’d been getting appeals from the Go’Doan with irritating frequency to allow them into Mar-el in order for them to build temples (to the Go’Doan gods, of course), schools to teach our children and hospitals where they would practice, as well as instruct in their ways of advanced healing to our people.
But all knew they also worked to spread the faith in their gods and the Mar-el had staunch devotion to our gods and goddesses of the seas and the storms and they would not like this.
So Aramus had refused.
Now, he would spend the day, from but ten minutes from then until probably when I was abed again, dealing with a defiant, but beaten, King Gallienus, his new regent—a prince who had no wish to be that, or indeed be a king—and the future of Airen and how to prevent it from descending into civil war.
In the meantime, before we left Firenze, my husband would sign a proclamation (or six of them, one for each realm, as well as one to be chronicled in Go’Doan, to hold in order to hold him to his promise, not that he wouldn’t keep it) to decrease the number of years served for those in service from fifteen to five.
This was the part that made me joyous, for obvious reasons.
Of course, everyone knew not to sail Mar-el waters without Mar-el permission. They also knew, if you did, what might befall you.
However.
I was joyous (and this was also why I felt relief) because my husband made this concession at the diplomatic table and it was a grand one. A noble one. It was not only honorable, it showed forward thinking and the ability to compromise.
As well as, not least importantly, humanity.
And obviously, if he were to listen and act on the things that were important to me, he’d need all of this.
I was also concerned for I did not know how our people would respond to the change he intended to make.
Obviously, the bounden, and those who were not wealthy enough to keep them or were not pirates, and thus they looked down on this practice (quite vigorously), would condone it heartily.
However, the wealthy landowners and pirates, likely not.
That said, when his great-great grandfather had made even more sweeping changes, although there was a period of unrest, it was quickly quashed for the number of those who opposed bondage and how those in it were treated was high, and eventually the landowners saw the wisdom of not rousing them.
But also, many of the bounden continued to be in service to them, rather than sailing ships to home (albeit paid service, and there was a stricture from the king on what they could get paid, so it was fair and equitable for their toil).
Others had simply chosen to stay, enlist in service on ships, open businesses, taverns and restaurants, wed amongst themselves or the Mar-el, for Mar-el was a land of great beauty, the seas held great bounty, and for the most part we were a jovial, fun-loving, friendly people.
“We won’t file and herald the proclamation until we’re home,” Aramus was saying, dressing and wolfing down the breakfast that a servant boy had brought up. “Though I’m sending men. They’ll go to the ships. Take one. Sail home. Put pieces in place to control those landowners who might cause proble
ms.”
“The King’s Will be done,” I intoned what every child learned, and what every adult practiced.
And the King’s Will was done, as proclaimed by Triton, our god of the sea, and Medusa, our goddess of the same, for legend told both of them had coronated our very first king and thus the king reigned at the will of the gods.
And no one did anything to anger Triton and Medusa.
“Yes, my queen. Do you think there will be issues with this?” he asked, and my head jerked at the question.
“Pardon?” I asked in return.
He stopped lifting a triangle of toast spread with marmalade to his mouth and looked at me.
“I am sea captain and king. I’m on my ship more than in my castle. And when I’m ashore, I’m in my castle with my advisors more than being with my people. You’re from a small village. It is my understanding from reports of your activities when I’m away, you often roam the city, attend ill in the hospitals, visit children in schools. In other words, you are often among the people. You’ve spoken of their thoughts and concerns before. What do you think will come of this?”
He was asking…
Me?
“Um…well…”
I trailed off.
He shoved the toast in his mouth and started slathering marmalade on another triangle, talking with his mouth full.
“I am hoping they find these concessions appropriate. Not simply because all know we are the last to practice servitude. But also, because it’s well known around Mar-el that our people think of the practices of the Airenzian toward women range from feeling it’s absurd to abhorrent. That said, I’m uncertain if my people care enough that the Airenzian women are freed of their burdens, for they last a lifetime and are much more monstrous than those in our lands in bondage. But as you mentioned, it’s of concern, our continued distance from those on the mainland.”
As I’d mentioned?
He’d listened to me?
“But I’d already negotiated opened trade of merchants with Firenze and allowed the Firenz passage of their merchant ships not only to us, but to the Northlands, Southlands and The Mystics,” he announced.
My mouth dropped open.
He had?
He had not mentioned that last night.
He continued speaking.
“In a small quantity. I arranged the same to mitigate some of Gallienus’s anger, and perhaps cushion the blow to his aristocracy. And it will be known Cassius negotiated it, so his regency will be better taken. The Dellish king seems uninterested. But I’ve spoken to True in private and if his king can pull his finger out, I’ll do the same for Wodell. More goods going both ways, more coin spent both ways. Enough to take minds from things that might cause unrest.”
“Are you going to…” I cleared my throat. “Going to disallow the pirates from taking more bounden?” I asked.
“I won’t tell seamen what to do,” he grunted.
Of course not.
He was a seaman.
“Is this going to go well for Cassius?” I queried.
He shoved half of his second triangle of toast into his mouth, bit off a chunk, dropped the remains to the tray and looked to me, chewing.
He swallowed.
Then he said, “No.”
“This means we’ll be at war with another land for another land’s problems, my king,” I said softly.
“I promised my armada,” he replied.
“I know.”
“You don’t think it’s a good idea,” he remarked, regarding me closely.
“The Beast rises,” I reminded him.
“My guess is, we have time, considering the tremors have ceased.”
I did not guess the same.
Who knew what those who called to it were up to?
“This will be quite a bit for our people to understand and become accustomed to,” I told him. “But your great-great grandfather also made what was then sweeping change. It is not unprecedented. It was also not so long ago. And we may not have much to do with the mainland, but we get news from it. Therefore, we know Ares, as well as Mars, have done much the same in their land. There was conflict, and violence in all that. But both nations became stronger for it.”
He dipped his chin.
“And they will be glad of opened trade.” I smiled at him. “Even in small quantities.”
“Good,” he grunted, shoving his shirt with its full, billowy sleeves more firmly under the sash around his waist before he reached to his double-breasted waistcoat, flung it behind his shoulders and shrugged it on.
He’d buttoned the four buttons from the bottom (buttons that went all the way to the base of his throat, but he rarely wore it closed all that way) before he grabbed his wide, studded belt, pulling it over the sash around his waist while he returned his attention to me.
“You bond with these women,” he remarked, buckling his belt.
I nodded. “Oh yes. Silence is very sweet. Farah is quieter and more restrained around Elena, for she knows True’s feelings for the Nadirii. But Elena is putting her mind at rest about that. And Elena is very good-humored, when you aren’t discussing Cassius that is.”
“Cassius will win her,” Aramus stated confidently.
Maybe.
However, I tired of discussing everyone else.
Everything else.
But us.
“I’m sure,” I murmured and carried on, “Elpis is lovely, as is Ophelia, in a more detached way. Elena’s lieutenants are chalk and cheese, Hera very intelligent and serious, Jasmine very funny. Sofia makes me melancholy. She feels much guilt for acts she did not do, and she misses her friend greatly even when, often, they are in the same room. I cannot imagine any of them wishing me harm.”
“You’ll still have a guard in the palace.”
I nodded again while containing a sigh.
“You spoke not of Mercy and Vanka,” he mentioned.
I looked int his eyes. “Vanka is quiet so I don’t know what to think of her as I get the sense she doesn’t know what to think of just about everything. I’m also uncertain what I feel for Mercy. She is watchful and seems…cold. Specifically to the Firenz. Most specifically to Farah.”
He bobbed his head once, decidedly.
“Your guard will remain. The Dellish king is weak and most of this is around the fact he is not very clever. So much not, for him to remain on his throne without a revolt, someone is pulling his strings. And I’m not certain his counsellor is his sole puppet master. I just have the sense that he does not listen to his son, which is the only Dellish I’ve met thus far he should lend his ear to.”
“You seem to have grown an affinity to that particular Dellish.”
“True is genuine. He’s intelligent. He’s frustrated with his father, which is unsurprising. He seems to have the good of all at heart. And he’s tactful. What I read from him, if any of this is false, I’d give up my fastest ship.”
“So True is true to his name.”
He grinned at me. “It would seem.”
I allowed his grin to wash through me.
My husband was handsome.
He looked fine in his clothes of Mar-el, the garments of a pirate.
He was also all the way across the room.
“I must go, Ha-Lah.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
He started to the door, hesitated, and stopped, turning back to me.
My heart skipped a beat.
“And what do you do today?” he asked.
At that, my heart dropped.
I, of course, liked it that he cared to ask. He had not cared before (though maybe he had, considering his remark about getting reports on my activities when he was away, he’d just never asked me).
So this was progress.
Good progress.
Just not the kind I was yearning for.
But my mouth answered.
“Silence has changed her mind about her wedding gown. She brought one. But she won’t wear it. They st
arted sewing her new one yesterday. They finish the fittings today. I attend her.” I finished with a mumble, “We’ll probably go swimming in the afternoon. She’s going to borrow a body stocking from Jasmine. She’s excited to swim. She couldn’t yesterday.”
“This does not please you?” he asked.
“It’ll be fine,” I answered.
“I could ask Mars to open his library to you,” he suggested.
“I’d prefer Silence’s company. Farah often joins her. We will get to know each other better.”
“As I’m sending men to the ships, if you’d like to write letters to your aunt, your father, they will carry them to your family,” he offered.
That was lovely.
Though, writing a letter to my auntie and papa would likely take only half an hour, not fill up a day with delight
And he was still across the room.
“I shall do that,” I told him.
He continued to regard me for a moment (from across the room) before he again spoke.
“If you’ll be all right…” This statement seemed to end unfinished.
I sat on the bed.
He stood across the room from me.
Come to me and kiss me, I thought.
Kiss me.
Kissmekissmekissme.
“I hope to see you at dinner, or if we break for luncheon,” he stated.
He wasn’t going to kiss me.
“I hope that too, Aramus,” I replied.
“Until later, my queen.”
“But of course, my king.”
He left the room.
I stared at the door he closed.
I wondered which guard I’d have that day, not really much caring.
My wedding to my king had been a spectacle. A lavish gown. A lavish ceremony. A lavish parade. A lavish feast.
During all this, we probably said twenty words to each other and sadly, fifteen of them for me were, “I take this man as my husband and my king and his Will be done.”
We’d then had a colossal argument directly in front of our marital bed, which I slept in alone after he slammed out of the room to drink rum, get loud, and eventually sleep elsewhere.
We had, as prescribed, met only the day before. In the sanctuary of Leuthea, the sacred sea goddess of distressed sailors.
There we knelt at the altar, giving our thoughts to her and not saying a word to each other.