Page 13 of A Throne and a Crown

“I...yes, Your Highness.” The man, middle class by his attire, gave a deep bow. “My apologies.”

“What is it that you would ask of the crown?”

“I hope to propose marriage to the Onnish lord I am in love with.”

I waited for more. When it didn’t come, I offered what I hoped was an encouragingcarry onlook. He still didn’t speak.

“Good...luck with that?” I guessed.

His face fell. “I had hoped you might see something of your own situation in mine, Your Highness. Is there nothing I could offer to persuade you that our love is true, and I trust him completely?” A long wail echoed from his throat when I didn’t respond. “We would forfeit my land and home if you require it of us, all of our possessions, if you would find it in your heart to bestow on us the beneficence and compassion you are known far and wide for!”

I was about to berate him a second time for the fawning when the man sank to his knees on the tiled floor and began to weep, his face in his hands.

I looked to Morales in alarm.

“I will need your advice for this one,” I muttered. She and I may not have particularly seen eye to eye, but the woman proved a good enough person not to gloat or let me flounder.

A few whispered words in my ear, and I understood the man’s plight far better.

“Rise, señor,” I called over, and he did, his eyes wet. “My apologies. I did not mean to confuse you, and was only sincerely wishing you good fortune on your man’s answer to your proposal. Councillor Morales has patiently informed me of the law requiring royal consent for marriages between Quarehian citizens and foreign nobility, and I regret that I do not know it – or you – well enough to be able to grant that today.” I paused. “If you could possibly put in writing the name of your lord and any relevant matters regarding his holdings and potential conflicts, I will ensure the king and I consider your request as soon as practicable.”

The man bowed again, this time looking much happier.

“You didn’t have to apologise to him,” Morales said from the corner of her mouth.

“I did,” I said from mine.

“And you didn’t have to mention me.”

“I did,” I repeated. She’d helped me, and the court deserved to know that. Ren might prefer to foster a view of himself that he knew everything, and that was probably an appropriate and necessary image for a Quarehian king who had won his throne by convincing his people that he was the best candidate to lead them, but me? If I took the same approach, assuming I could even pull it off when I didn’t know shit, it wouldn’t win me any favours. It seemed to me that a northerner who’d married into Quareh’s royal family was better served by showing he was willing to adapt to its ways and able to learn from its people.

But that didn’t mean I was going to play nice with issues I held firm views on, however, as the next pair of men to appear before me quickly discovered.

“We’re here about the new...laws,” one of the men declared, eyeing me with open distaste. “The ones relating to the women.”

“I’m aware of them.”

“Of course you are, your Highness,” the other said acidly. “I believe you wrote them.”

I inclined my head.

“Since their implementation, they have caused us nothing but fucking chaos-”

Upon several guards moving their hands to their swords, he paused, perhaps not realising he’d been closing in on me in his anger. The man shuffled back from the base of the dais, and his companion smoothly took over.

“What he means to say is that the laws are distinctly problematic.”

“I expect to someone like you both, they are,” I agreed. The comment, or the responding chuckles from the gathered court, made them bristle.

“King consort,” the first man said flatly, and I was mildly impressed by how sardonically he expressed the title. “You cannot expect us to run a household when our wives do not listen to us and are now free to spend their days doing fuck all while we’re working our asses off. How can we support our families and their futures when you encourage our daughters to seek out trades over profitable marriage? How are we supposed to…”

This drivel continued for nearly a minute. By the time they dared to express their request forpersonal exemptionsfrom therecent gender law reform so they could continue to treat their wives and daughters like property, my patience had entirely evaporated.

“Absolutely not,” I snapped, for once not hearing any objections to my judgment from where Councillor Morales stood behind the throne. “Get the fuck out of here, and be thankful I don’t condone corporal punishment or you’d both be strung up in the courtyard for a flogging.” The two men, sharing bitter looks with each other, slunk from the hall.

I heaved out a breath. It was unlike me to even make such threats, and I couldn’t let the rest of the court see how they’d gotten under my skin. The law reform had had its genuine issues, of course – what change didn’t? – but the nonsense those two had been spouting had really pissed me off. Dios forbid they should actuallytalkto their wives about any problems their families faced rather than seeking royal impunity to beat them back into submission.

“I would like to speak to the king,” my next appearance announced, his voice trembling as he gripped the hand of a young girl who shared his eyes and slightly pointed nose.

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