Page 37 of The Faceless Mage

Prince Vaniell reverted to form quickly enough as he escorted Leisa to the council chamber for her audience with King Melger, chatting inanely about everything they saw and everyone they encountered.

Much to Leisa’s disgust and dismay, she found not only the king, but also his heir awaiting them in the large, elegantly furnished chamber, though his council was, thankfully, absent. The Garimorans seemed impatient to begin, and as a footman offered her an exquisitely uncomfortable chair, she recalled the mention of Danric she’d overheard the night before. What had they said? That they wouldn’t want to risk Vaniell being the first to produce an heir?

Perhaps she could understand their concerns for the succession, but so far as she knew, no rumor of the older prince’s engagement had yet crossed the border. Though if Melger were planning further alliances, he might not want rumors to taint his present negotiations. If he indeed intended to bind two of the Five Thrones to Garimore through marriage, the action would only add urgency to the whispered speculation that he harbored imperial aspirations.

“Finally,” King Melger said, seating himself without a word of greeting. “I don’t see any reason to dither on the issues at hand. Do you or King Soren have any questions or concerns regarding the marriage contract?”

Leisa glanced at Vaniell, but he was seating himself by her side and appeared entirely unconcerned with the conversation.

“I was not given to understand that I would be expected to negotiate on my own behalf,” she replied, not having to feign her uncertainty. That sort of thing was done by kings and their advisors. She was here to experience the court, to meet Vaniell, and to form her own opinions of the suitability of the alliance, not to decide the fate of the kingdom.

“A monarch must always be prepared to lead,” King Melger said impatiently. “And to know what will best serve his or her kingdom in the future. I trust you’ve at least read the contract and know what it contains.”

“I… yes.” He was trying to fluster her, she decided. And it was working. But she wasn’t yet ready to give up the ground she’d gained the night before, and it was time to remind him of that. “But before we discuss the contract, there is another matter that I feel must be settled between our kingdoms—a breach of sovereignty that I must admit I find troubling.”

Melger’s air of impatience sharpened into a near-predatory focus. “You wish to discuss last night?” His lips thinned for a moment, as he seemed to consider how best to respond. “Perhaps that is something better left to negotiation between myself and your father. I was willing to allow a certain degree of latitude, considering your youth and inexperience, but this is hardly the time or the place for us to enter into petty wrangling over some imagined slight. Perhaps you cannot be expected to understand the realities of keeping a kingdom secure, but there is time for you to learn, if you are willing to accept the advice of those who have come by their wisdom through painful experience.”

In her head, Leisa pushed King Soren into the nonexistent moat and then threw a half-dozen or so razor-beaked turtles in after him. A bodyguard shouldn’t have to deal with this sort of thing. Did she defend Farhall’s sovereignty? Maintain her retiring demeanor? Refute Melger outright? Or bury her dagger in the table between them and declare war?

She was pretty sure that last bit was out, but honestly, none of this had been any part of her original assignment. A social visit, they’d called it.

Hah.

“As you said, Your Majesty, a monarch must always be prepared, and must know what will best serve his or her kingdom in the future.” Leisa kept her tone respectful, and her hands folded in her lap so they wouldn’t twitch. “Perhaps my father would choose otherwise, but by sending me here, he has indicated his trust in us both—in Garimore, to treat me as an extension of Farhall herself, and in me, to represent Farhall with honor. If I did not demonstrate my willingness to defend my subjects, I would consider myself to have behaved with cowardice and displayed a lack of respect for the confidence that has been placed in me.”

Oh, he didn’t like that at all. If Melger had been even a particle less kingly, he probably would have been sputtering in outrage. Possibly even dissolved into apoplexy. Perhaps she shouldn’t have thrown his own words back in his face, but when a man handed her the perfect weapon to use against him, it would be downright ungrateful to pass up the opportunity.

Except now King Melger wasn’t the only one subjecting her to further scrutiny. Prince Danric was staring as though she’d grown a second head. Take that, Mr. “Hasn’t a Scrap of Backbone.”

The only one enjoying the conversation? That would be Vaniell, who rested his chin in one hand and looked from one face to the next as though he were considering selling tickets.

“And how exactly do you feel it necessary to ‘defend your subjects?’” Prince Danric demanded.

Evaraine would never have been able to hold his accusatory gaze, so perhaps it was just as well Leisa was not her.

“I do not pretend to know how such things are viewed in Garimore, but in Farhall, we would never presume to give orders to the personal servants of a member of visiting royalty. Nor would we dismiss them without a word, nor deny a guest access to her own guard upon request. And we most certainly would not eject them from the country unaided, unthanked, and in complete disregard of said guest’s requests to bid them farewell in person.”

“They were ready to leave,” Danric said coolly. “I could hardly force them to wait while you sipped your tea and dallied over your choice of a morning frock.”

Leisa had never thought to be thankful to King Melger, but it was only his interruption that saved her from a probably disastrous outburst. She was on the verge of leaping to her feet and favoring his eldest son with her opinion in extremely unprincess-like terms when the king spoke up. And in an unexpectedly conciliatory tone.

“Perhaps we were a bit hasty.”

Leisa’s jaw threatened to drop as Melger addressed her gravely. “Princess Evaraine, I fear Garimore owes you an apology. You are correct in your protest—you should have been permitted to see your retinue off properly, and I regret forcing you to endure such an unpleasant discussion by ignoring your wishes.” He sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair. “I pray you will forgive an impatient old man and be willing to give us another chance.”

In Farhall, some of the older generations still believed in the efficacy of temperature shock in driving away winter-sickness. They would smother themselves in blankets, sit by the fire until they were streaming with sweat, then run outside and plunge themselves into a snowbank.

Leisa had always preferred to suffer through the cough and sore throat, but suddenly she felt as though she’d been put through the polite, political version of that rather barbaric cure. From fire to ice with no warning whatsoever.

But what was she to believe? Danric’s icy scorn, or his father’s over-warm apology?

“Apology accepted, of course,” she said graciously. “Perhaps instead of dwelling on what is past, we might briefly discuss how to move forward. My remaining honor guard will be waiting to know how they may continue to serve and what expectations I will have of them.”

It took only a handful of minutes for King Melger to agree to her suggestion that a member of her guard report briefly to her suite each morning. They furthermore concurred that two of the guards should be allowed to attend any official court function at which she was to appear. Melger then waved off her offer for them to share the responsibility of guarding her room at night, and as she was not yet confident enough to broach the subject of whether his pet assassin ever actually slept, she chose not to argue. She’d already won far more concessions than she expected, so perhaps that could wait.

“And now,” King Melger said at length, “regarding the marriage contract, perhaps I have been too hasty in that as well. I’m sure you would wish for more time to accustom yourself to our kingdom before making any decisions about your future with us.”

Prince Danric looked frustrated, but the King was already rising from the table, forcing everyone else to rise with him.

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