by Lucy Roy
“Well, you’ve provided a good deal of information about their history, family, and so forth, but I’m curious how I might be able to connect with the more high-ranking members of the court on a personal level.” She watched the queen carefully. “Interests, that sort of thing.”
“Ah.” The queen nodded, then leaned back in her chair and rested her elbow on the arm, goblet poised near her lips. “Well, if it’s gossip you’re looking for, I’ve got plenty of that. There’s always a thread of truth to every bit of tongue-wagging, Freya. You’d do well to remember that.”
Freya laughed. “Then I suppose you’ll need to fill me in on all you can.”
“Alright, then.” Ordona took a long sip of her wine. “Where to begin?”
Chapter 36
The first thing the following morning, Freya and Aer received word from the king and queen that Lessia and her cadre had arrived earlier than intended. When Aer went into his room to dress, Rini helped Freya into a sky blue gown made of soft linen that sat just off her shoulders and tapered to her waist, with several layers of tulle under the skirt to add a subtle curve to her hips. Once she was dressed, Rini braided her hair in a simple coronet, leaving the rest pin-straight. Freya was worried it all sent too meek of an image, but the pixie merely shook her head.
“Let them see your softer side, my lady,” Rini had said as she dusted Freya’s cheeks with blush. “Don’t let them see your fierceness just yet.” Pausing, she gave Freya a considering look. “I’ll leave it to you to decide whether to let out your wings or not.”
A short while later, Rini left and Aer arrived to escort her to the throne room. He wore a deep blue shirt under a black suede jerkin with gold fastenings, and brown pants tucked into black boots with gold buckles. It was a step above his normal casual, but just below what she might expect for receiving foreign royalty.
As they walked, he flicked a glance at Freya’s shoulders and frowned.
“I’d let your wings out.”
With a sigh, she released her wings, letting them flare out behind her and Aer as they walked. It was a freeing feeling, one she hadn’t allowed herself often enough since she’d arrived in Iladel.
As though reading her mind, he tapped the edge of one. “You should leave these out more often, Valkyrie. Byrric does.”
“Byrric is a giant peacock,” Freya quipped, flexing her wings to flick his hand away playfully. “I prefer subtlety. And besides, Rini suggested I keep my ‘fierceness’ concealed for this meeting. I’ve been debating what kind of message I want to send.”
“Your wings aren’t what make you fierce, Freya,” Aer told her, his words carrying a mild undertone of surprise. “Neither is your magic. They’re just a part of who you are.”
She stopped, then turned to face him, angling her head as she studied his face.
“Do you mean that?” She put her hands on his chest. “That my wings—my magic—they’re just a part of who I am?”
He gave her a confused look. “Of course.”
She sighed, feeling a bit silly that she’d even brought it up. Despite the treatment and even deference at times she received from others around her due to her heritage, Aer had never once treated her as anything other than his equal.
He gave her a crooked smile, then ran his hands down her arms until they came to rest on the curve of her waist. “Freya, have I ever given you any reason to think I hold you on a pedestal because you’re a halfblood? Because of who your parents are?”
“No.” She smiled. “It’s just nice to hear you say it, I suppose.”
He brought his hands up to cup her face, then stared into her eyes. “You set yourself apart from others, not because of a lucky heritage, but because of what you do with the power you were given. You don’t squander it, you don’t look down on those who have less than you. You’re a good person, but that comes from here,” he said, putting a hand just above her heart. Gently, he brushed his other hand along the arch of her wing, and she closed her eyes at the softness of his touch. “These? They just come with the package.”
“I think,” she said slowly as she opened her eyes, “that I would very much like you to kiss me.”
He laughed quietly, then tilted her chin upward. “And I would be happy to oblige.”
When they arrived at the throne room, Freya saw that two thrones had been placed to the queen’s right side. Freya couldn’t help but smile when she saw that hers had been carved to suit a pair of wings. They were a bit smaller and not nearly ornate as those on which the king and queen sat, but their purpose was clear.
She and Aer would no longer be standing to the side.
The king and queen were dressed in their typical finery. Ordona’s fawn-colored silk and chiffon dress was a shade Freya felt would look boring on herself but somehow managed to highlight Ordona’s natural beauty by bringing out the golden tones of her skin. Salazar wore his typical black pants and boots, today topping them with a dark gray vest and cravat with a fitted red jacket that hung to mid-thigh. Pale gray mantles trimmed in gold hung from both royals’ shoulders, and their crowns sat firmly atop their heads.
Jonas stood slightly to the side of the dais where their thrones stood, clad fully in the white leather he’d worn when he first arrived in Iladel, awaiting his aunt’s arrival in silence, hardly acknowledging them as they made their way forward and took their seats beside the queen.
Byrric stood at the right hand of the king, hands clasped behind his back, wings hovering at his shoulders. He gave Freya an approving nod when he saw her.
The room was silent for a few moments before a herald opened the doors and announced the arrival of Lessia’s court. She’d brought at least two dozen courtiers with her, each of whom were escorted in before her, one by one. With each arrival of the tall, slender Jotnar, the tension in the room seemed to mount, no doubt a type of power play on the empress’ part.
When the empress herself finally walked in, her courtiers all kneeling in a line on either side of the wide red carpet that led to the thrones, she looked just as Freya had always pictured.
The first thing Freya noticed was the depth of Lessia’s dark eyes. They were piercing, calculating, and more than a little unsettling. Jet black hair fell to her thighs and her skin, despite her flushed cheeks, appeared white next to the stark contrast of her hair. Like most Jotnar, she was tall and thin with a sharp-featured face, a regal nose, high cheekbones, and full, red lips. She wore a charcoal gray silk dress that was fitted through her waist and flared out at her hips. A diadem made of Jotnar gold—a white metal that had a tell-tale iridescence that differentiated it from simple silver—rested on top of her head. A single, egg-sized diamond was set in the center of the piece. Though none of her individual features were terribly striking, and as a whole, Freya wouldn’t call her beautiful, something about their combination made Lessia seem otherworldly.
Jonas strode forward and dropped to one knee, bowing to his aunt when she came to a stop in the center of the room.
“Empress,” he said, not looking up from the floor. “Well met.”
Lessia remained silent for several seconds, allowing the tension in the room to build a bit more before she spoke. Freya fought back the urge to shift in her seat.
“Well met, nephew. You may rise.”
Jonas stood in a single smooth motion, then stepped to Lessia’s side. Her courtiers remained kneeling.
Ordona and Salazar, who’d seemed to have perfected the art of mimicking statuary, remained seated in their thrones. After a thorough talking to the previous day regarding demeanor among royals, Freya forced her expression into one of indifference, ensuring that no hint of what was going through her mind was apparent on her face.
“Queen Ordona, King Salazar,” Lessia crooned. “The moment I saw your invitation, I just knew I had to come.”
“We’re pleased you were able to make the trip,” Salazar said. “It wouldn’t be a proper celebration without our neighbors in attendance.”
T
urning her smile on Aer and Freya, Lessia said, “I’ve been so eager to meet your successors. Your future princess is… lovely.” She ran appraising eyes over Freya, assessing her as nearly everyone who just met her did.
In talking with Ordona, Freya learned that Lessia liked to push and pry, to lure others into verbal traps, belittling themselves in some way or another. She hadn’t been entirely sure what Ordona meant when she explained it—she couldn’t fathom belittling herself due to the words of another—but now, as Lessia ran cold eyes over her, she understood.
Lessia liked to suss out weakness and to exert dominance.
Freya met her eyes with a somewhat disinterested stare, then gave her a small smile. “Well met, Empress. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you as well.”
“As have I,” Aer said, giving the empress a nod. “Lord Edrin mentioned you preferred northern exposure, so we’ve made accommodations for you and your party in the north wing of the palace.”
Lessia smiled. “That’s quite kind of you, Your Highness. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but it’s been a long trip and I would very much like to get some rest.”
“Of course,” Ordona replied. “Your luggage has already been brought to your rooms, and Syndra will be happy to show you where you’ll be staying.”
The small brunette servant stepped forward and curtsied. “If you’ll just follow me, Empress, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
When the room had emptied of all but Freya, Aer, Salazar, and Ordona, Freya blew out a breath.
This was going to be a very long week.
After their introduction to Empress Lessia, Ordona and Salazar sent Freya and Aer off to help with the arrival of the other guests who would be staying at the palace for the remainder of the week. For the better part of the rest of the morning, they were tasked with greeting the governing families and helping to ensure accommodations were all in order. When they were called back to the throne room several hours later to greet the human monarchs, Freya realized that it was quite possible the man they’d overheard with the king, queen, and Byrric would be within the palace walls in a short while.
They’d hardly had time to greet the king and queen and sit on their thrones before a herald announced the Dystonian court. Despite bringing a slew of guards, they’d brought only a handful of courtesans, perhaps half of what Lessia had arrived with, relieving a bit of the tension before it had even developed.
Freya wasn’t entirely sure what she expected the human monarchs to look like, as it had been a fair number of years since she’d actually seen a human. What she recalled most about humans was that, compared to Linds and even Jotnar, humans had always seemed a bit plain. Maybe it was due to lack of magic or supernatural abilities, or maybe it was because they just didn’t hold the same spark Freya so often saw in her own kind.
King Willem’s siblings were the last to enter just before the king and queen. His youngest sister, Rosie, was sixteen and betrothed to a wealthy lord in the southern human province of Leford. She was a small girl with golden hair and a soft face. Reginald, the brother, was a broad-shouldered man with blond hair and a gentle smile, who looked to be only a few years older than Freya and had yet to choose a wife. His other siblings—two more brothers and another sister—had stayed behind in Dystone.
Though attractive by human standards, Willem Ristner’s siblings were plain enough, which suited her memory of humans as a whole. She was a bit surprised, then, when Willem and Isadora entered. They both held a beauty that seemed unnatural for humans. Isadora had golden hair that flowed to her waist in a wave of soft curls. Her face had delicate features, her lips full, and her cheeks held a natural flush. She was slight, coming hardly to her husband’s shoulder, with a tiny waist and kind eyes.
The moment Freya looked at Willem, she saw what Jonas had been referring to when he’d insinuated the Dystonian king was a bit odd.
He had short-cropped brown hair and a face that bore high cheekbones and wide, almond-shaped eyes, giving him a strong, attractive appearance. The slightly shifty expression on his face, however, and the way he carried himself—as though ready to bolt through the door any moment—along with the way her senses went on high-alert the moment he looked her way, told Freya there was certainly something a bit off about him. She inhaled quietly and was unsurprised to scent a good deal of anxiety oozing from the man.
Aer placed a hand over hers.
“Your Majesties,” Salazar said, standing to welcome them. “It was so good of you to come.”
“We’re thrilled you’ll be celebrating such a joyous occasion with us,” Ordona added.
“Your Majesties,” Willem said with a bow. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Isadora’s smile was striking, a thing that no doubt brought her a fair share of male attention in her life, as she gave the king and queen a deep curtsy. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Your Majesties,” she said sweetly. “I’ve been so eager to visit your lands.”
“Indeed,” Willem said, his deep voice suggesting he’d been anything but eager.
“Is there anything you’ll have need of during your stay?” Aer inquired.
“No, no. We’d just like to settle in, check things over,” Willem murmured, his eyes scanning the room. “You can never be too careful, you know.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it all to your liking,” Ordona replied. “We’ve prepared a room for you in the eastern wing, away from the other guests.”
Frowning, Willem looked at Freya. The sudden eye contact had her hackles rising instantly. “Does your future queen not speak?”
Freya’s brows flew up and she was momentarily at a loss for words. “I—”
“No matter.” Willem scratched his chin, cutting her off as he faced the king and queen. “Would you be so kind as to have someone show us to our quarters?”
Salazar gestured toward Syndra, who’d just appeared at the doorway. “Syndra will see you there. Should you need anything, please don’t hesitate to use the call bells in your rooms.”
“Thank you most kindly,” Isadora said, smiling prettily at them once more before following her husband as he strode from the room.
Freya smiled tersely as they left, her jaw clenched so tight she thought it might break.
Once the massive doors clanged shut, Ordona sighed and relaxed in her seat. Salazar followed suit, then snapped his fingers. Seconds later, a servant was handing him a cigar and match.
“Well,” Aer said, lacing his fingers through Freya’s. “This ought to be fun.”
Freya was fuming by the time they left the throne room.
“‘Does your future queen not speak,’” she grumbled, her stride brisk as they made their way back to Aer’s chambers. “Bastard.”
“Pay them no mind,” Aer told her, taking her hand to slow her pace. “Humans will always be jealous of our kind and some will, therefore, try to belittle you in any way they can.”
She huffed. “And we’re to spend the next week with these people?”
“And get along famously the entire time,” he said with a grin as he opened his door. “Don’t worry, Valkyrie. You’ll win them over within a day.”
“The queen, maybe—”
“Ah, the incumbent monarchs return!”
Freya and Aer froze at the sound of Jonas’ voice, which was coming from inside Aer’s bedroom.
Again at a loss for words, Freya took in the sight before her. Lea, Laz, Collin, and Jonas all sat around the table just to the left of the veranda doors. Three charcuterie plates and four jugs of wine sat between them. As half the food was eaten, it appeared they’d been there for some time.
She and Aer exchanged a wary look before he finally spoke.
“It appears I missed an invitation to a party in my own room,” he commented, shutting the door with a snap.
“Well, we ran into Jonas on our way down from our own rooms,” Lea said, plucking a grape off the plate in front of her and giving Freya a wide smile. “He’s been here for w
eeks, so we thought it high-time he spent some time with us.”
“My aunt decided to retire early, and I can’t quite bear the company of her courtesans,” Jonas added, indeed looking far more at ease in their company than he had in the throne room hours earlier.
“So we asked him to join us for the evening,” Laz finished.
“Did you, now?” Freya asked, amused.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Jonas said, sipping his wine. “I believe your friends saw how eager I was to avoid returning to the frigid temperatures that tend to accompany Lessia everywhere she goes.”
There was a surprising amount of bitterness in his voice, as though the mere presence of his aunt in the palace had sucked a bit of life from him. In the two months since he’d arrived, Freya had only seen him a few times outside his visits to Iladel and Aldridge. He’d been present at dinner only twice when she stayed at the palace and spent his days either exploring Iladel or in his room. According to Aer, he enjoyed frequenting the palace library and galleries, examining ancient tomes and artwork from the long Harridan line. It seemed a bit surprising that he now wanted to join in with the five of them, be more social than he had been. But, she supposed, now that she knew a bit about the kind of company Lessia offered, she couldn’t really blame him.
While she still hadn’t gotten over the insinuations he’d made to the king and Byrric about her, she also wasn’t prepared to risk a relationship with a foreign emissary over a mere annoyance. So, she and Aer took seats, thanking Laz as he handed them each a glass of wine.
“You’re always welcome, Jonas,” she told him.
Aer glanced dubiously at the three wine casks that were set against the wall behind the table. “How far into our stores have you four gotten?”
Scrunching his face, Laz leaned back and looked at the four jugs on the table. “Half a cask or so.” He tapped one of the jugs. “This is only our first round.”
