by Effie Calvin
Carinth gave her another sidelong glance.
“You’re mad Mera hit you. I was surprised too. I’ll talk to her. I’m sure she’s already sorry.” Though Esofi hadn’t really acted sorry. Nevertheless, Adale pressed on. “But you know not to leave things in shoes. You could hurt someone.”
Carinth shuffled closer without getting up, like a snake slithering along the ground. Adale laughed.
“I wish you could talk to me. I wish I knew how much you understand.”
Adale reminded herself that even if Carinth was an ordinary little boy, he wouldn’t be able to speak at his age. She wasn’t very good at guessing the ages of children, but she was certain that most one-year-old babies couldn’t say more than one or two words and only barely knew how to walk.
She thought, yet again, of Esofi’s hand reaching out to strike Carinth across the nose. Unease rose up in her chest. In that moment, Esofi had become someone that Adale did not recognize. It almost felt unreal. If someone told her she’d imagined the entire thing, Adale might believe them.
Esofi was soft. She was shy and gentle and covered her face with her hands when she giggled. She spent too long in the bath and always smelled faintly of flowers and…
And she’d hit Carinth in the face.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Adale said, more to the silence than to Carinth. He lifted his head and looked up at her. She rested a hand on his back, fingers playing with the strange leather of his folded wings. “But maybe nobody really does.”
They sat in silence for a little longer. Adale glanced up at the altar and at the various statues of the Ten placed around the room. She felt no compulsion to pray. She hadn’t in years.
The door creaked open, and Adale turned her head to see her own mother enter the chapel. She was alone, not accompanied by any guards or ladies, and so Adale knew she must be searching for her.
“What happened?” asked Saski. There was a distinct accusatory note in her voice.
“I didn’t do anything!” Adale objected, more than a bit offended that her mother always assumed she was the one in the wrong.
Saski sat down beside Adale. Carinth immediately climbed into her lap to examine her necklace, sniffing at the gemstones.
“What did you hear?” asked Adale, almost afraid to know the answer.
“I heard that Esofi was injured and a carpet was ruined,” Saski said unhelpfully. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? Are you two quarreling?”
“I don’t know,” said Adale. “I don’t think so? I think we just surprised each other. Carinth left a blade in Esofi’s slipper, and she cut her foot on it. Not badly, the healer took care of it. But she struck Carinth’s face when he went to her. I’ve never seen her do such a thing before.” Though, belatedly, Adale remembered that Esofi had done far worse to dragons in the past.
“Have you two discussed matters of discipline?” asked Saski.
“Not exactly?” said Adale. They had never really needed to before. Carinth was generally well behaved, or at least better behaved than anyone would expect from a young dragon. When he did something that warranted punishment, Esofi always declared what it would be—whether that was being confined to his room for a little while, or not being allowed desserts. Adale never found a reason to disagree with her judgment. “But I don’t want her hitting him. It…it doesn’t seem right.”
Saski looked thoughtful. “Has she spoken at all of her own upbringing?”
“Hardly ever.” And the little pieces Adale had picked up along the way were not exactly pleasant. “I don’t think she likes to.”
“The way we are raised influences the way we raise our own children. I think you should make it a priority to discuss this with her.”
“I should go to her now.” She hadn’t meant to leave Esofi alone. But in the moment, going after Carinth had felt more important. “Can you take him for me while I talk to her?”
Saski never really needed to be convinced to watch Carinth, and Adale knew he would be in good hands with her. Carinth was as spoiled as any grandson would be, but Saski did not let him run completely wild.
When Adale arrived back at their room, she found Esofi was still inside, sitting on a sofa and embroidering a handkerchief. Cream was sitting in her lap. He’d been a kitten when Adale gave him to Esofi as a courting gift. Now he was a fully grown cat and took up more than his share of space on the bed.
Adale had no patience or skill for embroidery, but Esofi claimed she found it soothing, even meditative. After long days, she could often be found with a bag of colored thread and a needle, building an enormous collection of linens.
Adale watched Esofi work and reflected on the fact that she had spent almost the entirety of her life believing that she would never marry, or if she did it would only be for her own amusement. Albion’s death and Esofi’s subsequent arrival had changed everything she had ever believed about herself and her future in a short amount of time.
Learning that Esofi expected her to be Albion’s replacement had been terrifying, at first. Adale hadn’t believed she was capable of being a good wife, or a good queen. But as they spent more time together, Adale’s opinion changed. Esofi’s presence brought something out in Adale that nobody had ever seen before, including Adale herself.
Esofi paused in her work to look up at Adale. “Where is Carinth?”
“He’s following Grandmother around,” said Adale. On its face, there was nothing abnormal about that. But she hoped that Esofi would comment on it, that she would realize that something was wrong and apologize.
But Esofi’s eyes returned to her embroidery, apparently untroubled.
“I was…I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what?”
Adale swallowed, silently questioning if she ought to let the subject drop for the sake of keeping the peace between them. But if Esofi struck Carinth again, Adale might never forgive herself.
“You seemed…angry. At Carinth. But you have to know it was an accident.”
“Of course I do. Did you think I believed he did it maliciously?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just thought you were very angry. Angrier than I’d have expected.”
“Well, it wasn’t your foot.”
“Maybe not,” Adale granted. “But you didn’t need to strike him.”
A concerned expression came over Esofi’s face. “I didn’t hurt him, did I?”
“No,” said Adale. “I don’t think so. But I don’t think you should have done it.”
“Why not?”
“Well…” Adale paused as she realized she didn’t have a coherent reason why she felt Esofi should not hit their adopted son. She hadn’t really counted on needing one. “It just seems wrong.”
“Do parents in Ieflaria not discipline their children?” Esofi sounded legitimately confused.
“You can discipline children without hitting them,” said Adale. “I don’t understand why you’d want to hit one.”
“It’s not about wanting to,” said Esofi. “It’s just what you do.”
“Maybe in Rhodia, but not here. Besides, we’re meant to be raising him to be at least somewhat civilized, aren’t we? If Talcia wanted him to be wild and violent, she’d have let him be raised by other dragons.”
“He’s not going to turn out wild and violent.”
“He does what we do. What if he decides to go around hitting people who upset him? He could kill someone without even meaning to, someday.”
Esofi’s frown deepened, and Adale’s heart sank. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“No,” said Adale. “I don’t. Esofi, he’s so little, how could you hit him?”
“If striking children is culturally unacceptable in Ieflaria, I will not do it again. There’s no need to make so much of it.”
The finality in Esofi’s voice was so decisive that Adale found herself dumbstruck. By the time she found her voice again, it was too late to say anything in reply. So Adale turned and wen
t into the bedroom, her mind spinning.
She and Esofi had never really fought. They disagreed, certainly—their personalities were so different that it would have been silly to expect otherwise. But Adale had never stepped away from any of those disputes feeling so unsettled before.
Adale sat down on the bed. She wanted to go back out and confront Esofi, but maybe that would be a bad idea. Maybe that would only make things worse. She didn’t want Esofi to think she was attacking her. But she did not want to sit and stew in her own anger for the next few hours either.
Adale paused to examine her own feelings. She was angry, yes, but beneath that was concern—concern for Esofi, as well as Carinth. Esofi only rarely spoke of her life before coming to Ieflaria, and always in very general terms. Adale was curious, but she made a conscious effort not to pry. Rhodia, and Esofi’s childhood, were so far away that asking questions would accomplish nothing but satisfying Adale’s own curiosity. It hardly seemed worth it.
But maybe those questions did need to be asked.
Esofi had first set foot in Ieflaria less than two years ago. On their wedding day, they’d known each other for ten months. At its core, their marriage was a political alliance and the fact that they’d taken so well to each other was viewed as nothing more than a stroke of good luck in the eyes of the Ieflarian court.
Adale did not doubt her own love for Esofi, but there were still things she did not know about her. There was so much Esofi did not like to talk about. And while Adale certainly didn’t want to cause her pain by forcing her to recount the past, she could not help but feel she was missing some crucial element of who Esofi was. She wanted to love all of Esofi, not just the parts of her that she allowed the world to see.
And buried just beneath that was a faint but sharp terror that their relationship would sooner or later fall to pieces despite Adale’s best efforts. Adale’s past relationships—if they could even be called that—had never lasted for more than a few weeks. She never meant for them to last longer than that. Before Esofi, Adale had not believed she would ever want something as serious as a marriage.
Adale rested her hand over her heart, thinking of their wedding day. She vividly recalled the joy that had threatened to burn through her chest when Esofi smiled at her from the other side of the archpriestess of Pemele.
They’d initially hoped to marry at midsummer, only a few months after Esofi’s arrival in Ieflaria. But planning the wedding was a time-consuming process, and Esofi’s injuries from the battle with the dragons’ Emperor needed time to heal. So a date was set for autumn, giving everyone room to breathe.
But the wedding plans grew more elaborate as time went on, and both Adale and Esofi’s responsibilities increased with each passing month. They both devoted as much time as they could to Carinth. And while Adale shadowed her parents and listened to their advisors’ concerns that the dragon attacks would begin anew as revenge for the Emperor’s death, Esofi worked to accommodate all the newly blessed Ieflarians coming to Birsgen to train at a university that did not yet exist.
All of this meant that the wedding date had to be pushed back yet again, this time past Esofi’s birthday, past midwinter, and into the new year. Adale had been afraid that postponing the wedding twice would provoke rumors that Esofi was rethinking the engagement. But instead, everyone was eager to see just how ostentatious the wedding would be. She’d overheard people speculating about what food would be served, which dignitaries would come to attend the ceremony, and how many gold coins Adale’s parents would be passing out.
When the wedding day finally did arrive, it went without incident. Adale had not been allowed to drink, a rule handed down from her parents and enforced by everyone on staff. The ceremony had been an hour long, but the celebration afterward had lasted into the next day. Adale still believed that the entire event had been a little too extravagant, but Esofi had loved every minute of it, and so she would not have changed a thing.
Adale peered into the sitting room and saw that Esofi was in the process of packing away her embroidery bag. When she came into the bedroom, Adale went to the wardrobe and brought Esofi one of her nightgowns in a peace offering. Esofi accepted it without a word.
“Are you all right?” Adale asked.
The tension was so heavy that Adale almost regretted asking the question. It would have been so easy to say nothing, to fall asleep and then wake up tomorrow smiling as though nothing happened. But she did not want a fake peace. She wanted Esofi to be genuinely happy again.
Esofi pulled the nightgown over her head. “I’m fine,” she said, somewhat muffled through the fabric, as though it was a shield she held between them and not just cotton and lace. She pulled the collar down and her head reemerged. Adale did not move.
“Are you angry at me?” asked Esofi.
“No,” said Adale. “I’m just worried.”
Esofi’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.
“In Rhodia—” began Adale.
“We’re not talking about Rhodia.”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But…I’m here if you do. It’s easier to carry things together than alone.”
Esofi sat down on the bed. She was silent, staring at the window for a long time. Then she said, “Have you ever seen an elf?”
“What?” Adale was not sure how this related to anything that had happened between them tonight and hoped that Esofi was not just trying to distract her. “An elf?”
“Yes.”
“Once. When I was very young, two came to Ieflaria to petition my parents. What does this have to do with—”
“Thiyra stands between Domeysil and the rest of the world,” said Esofi. “Our four nations—Rhodia, Eskas, Etrea, and Dossau—have a force dedicated to making sure the elves remain on their own lands. If not for us, they would be terrorizing the entire world.”
“Are elves really that bad?” asked Adale. She remembered being frightened by them, but she’d been a child at the time.
“They eat people,” said Esofi.
“Are you sure?” Adale could not keep the skepticism from her voice.
But Esofi nodded solemnly. “Talcia’s magic is powerful in Rhodia because she means for us to keep the elves at bay. But we cannot take our blessings for granted. We must hone our skills for our entire lives. Complacency is weakness, and there is no room for weakness in Rhodia.”
“Not even with your children?”
Esofi’s fingertips played at the seams of the bedsheets.
“When I was nine years old, my mother got into a terrible argument with the archpriestess of Merla. I don’t remember what it was about. I’m sure it was something absurd. But they decided that the only way to settle their differences was with a duel.”
“Your mother dueled a priestess?” Adale was not sure which was more difficult to believe: that a queen would behave in such a way, or that an archpriestess would go along with it.
“Well, no,” said Esofi. “My mother told the archpriestess that she wasn’t worth fighting. She said, ‘Beat one of my daughters first, and then I’ll face you.’ I was sure the archpriestess was going to pick Esybele. But instead, she pointed at me. ‘The fat one,’ she said.”
“Did you win?”
“Of course I did. I don’t think it even entered my mind that I might not. Looking back, though…”
“Yes?” prompted Adale when it seemed that Esofi was reluctant to say any more.
“When you’re young, you think everything you experience is normal, because it’s all you know. Then you grow up and get out and realize…maybe not.” Esofi rubbed her eyes. “And your parents are kind, even when they’re angry with you. I don’t think I realized anyone could really be like that.”
Adale reached out to touch Esofi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. It felt weak and inadequate, but she could not think of anything else to say.
“Maybe I don’t actually know what families are supposed to be like,” said Esofi. “I al
ways thought I did…until I came here. And now I feel like I hardly know anything.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” said Adale. “You’re happy most days, aren’t you? That is—you haven’t been pretending all this time, have you?”
“No!” Esofi met her eyes. “I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been in my life. That’s what makes me think I’m doing it all wrong.”
“You think you’re meant to be miserable?”
“It’s so foolish, isn’t it?” Esofi shook her head. “I can hardly make sense of it myself. Of course I don’t want to be unhappy. I came here hoping things would be better than they were at home. And they are! I ought to be grateful for that, not behaving like I’m still back there.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Adale. “If it’s how you were raised, if it’s how you lived…”
“Maybe,” said Esofi quietly.
She wanted to know more, but she knew she could not expect Esofi to recount her entire childhood in a single night—especially when uncovering just this little piece of it had been so arduous. She would have to be patient.
So instead of asking any more questions, Adale wrapped her arms around Esofi and pulled her closer before she pressed a kiss to her neck. “I’m so glad you’re here now.”
Esofi relaxed. “I am too. I think being sent away was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“Certainly the best thing that could have happened to me,” Adale murmured into her hair.
Esofi laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Adale rested her chin on Esofi’s shoulder and kissed her neck again. “I think you’re the ridiculous one. For example…”
“Yes?”
“For example, you still don’t believe you are the single most beautiful woman in Birsgen, despite the fact that I tell you so at least twice a week.”
“Not this again.”
“At least twice a week.”
“Please.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think you’re mistaken.” They were falling into a conversation they’d had many times before, a familiar old trek that led nowhere. “I think you think you’re telling the truth.”
