Page 135 of Artemysia
How quickly the tides of favor change in an echelon of society where title and power mean more than anything.
At the Academy, merit dictates status. That is my world. It seems simple; it seems right. But who am I to know anything? My understanding of the world changed completely within the two moonrises of the night.
It’s late. The moons must be setting.
But the vultures seek blood and circle around me, jostling for their turn to capture the prince’s attention. An older gentleman decorated with badges presses his way intothe circle of noblemen milling around us.
“When you’re king, will you use the Syf to overtake South Kingdom for their precious metals? We need better weapons, and they have stronger materials in their mountains. Not to mention the gold and silver that could be mined…”
My breath stalls as I await Prince Toryl’s answer
He responds with a noncommittal, “It’s my father’s plan, but it’s not feasible if we can’t cross Artemysia.”
“I say we burn down the forest, kill all the Syf.”
Toryl doesn’t even grace the baron with a look. “Your violence is noted, Baron Sannyo.”
I chime in with gossip I’d heard earlier in the night. “Then where would you get the wood to construct the beds you need for all your mistresses, Sannyo?” My title outranks his, and I put him in his place by not using his.
They all laugh.
A spindly older lord speaks up. “What’s really going on here, High Lord? Your father threatens to send Syf to our estates if we disagree with his policies. Do you also plan on ruling by fear?”
The plump, well-dressed man beside him interjects. “And why isn’t our naval program advancing? We need to expand beyond our lands to support our rapid population growth, and since the forest stops us from southern expansion, the seas are the future…”
These men test the young prince.
I understand why he must act the way he does. To maintain order. He was likely trained to keep his emotions close, perhaps even to hide his true personality to not show weakness.
Unlike Stargazer, or even what little I’ve seen of Artemysia, where a ruler is respected, North Kingdom’s politics come with an undercurrent of dissent, and it’s clear there are many here who wish to claw their way to the top without regard for who they must step on.
I can’t hold my tongue against these self-absorbed men. “Perhaps you could answer your own questions if you left your wine cellars more often. True power comes from learning to wield a sword yourself.” I toss in one of my motivational sayings and imagine Riev rolling his eyes.
“Swordswoman, what do you know of politics?” The older lordbares yellowed teeth at me. I don’t appreciate how he emphasizedwomanas if it meant I was somehow inferior.
I meet his watery gaze. “There’s no power when you’re dead. That’s all I know.”
He appears momentarily stunned by my blunt words. His mouth hangs agape, but he quickly recovers and steers the conversation back to the prince. “High Lord, why weren’t there better-trained soldiers to take down that Syf? Our lives were endangered.”
I can feel the disapproval blaring from my eyes at the entitled, narcissistic demand, but Prince Toryl smiles casually, though his leaf-green eyes glint perilously. “My father is certain it was one of you who released the Syf, but I refuse to believe any of you are capable of such treasonous drama.”
Ah, that must have been what was in the wax-sealed note, since he hasn’t spoken to his father since the attack.
The older lord clears his throat and adjusts his tie, and the others are subdued into silence.
The string music changes, and the guests break off to find their partners for a dance.
Toryl extends a hand and guides me onto the dance floor. I reach up and place a hand on his shoulder, and he clutches my waist, respectful and light.
“This night is not as dull as expected, thanks to you,” he says, holding back a smile.
“I could say the same for you, but you’d take it as flattery.”
“I have a confession,” he says quietly, his lids heavy with a look I’ve seen before in other men before they say something stupid.
“That you noticed me when I first walked in? Don’t say cliché things like that.”
“No. I did—but that’s not my confession.” He twirls me twice and we join other guests in a synchronized dance. Thank goodness, it’s one of the easier ones I learned in Artemysia during the afternoon spent as Throg’s dance partner. At the time, it did little except get my feet stomped on by Throg. The Syf instructors acted as if we were hopeless, but tonight, Prince Toryl guides me so that I feel like I know what I’m doing.
