In Which Ellona Learns Her Purpose

July 27, 1170

Ellona crossed the threshold of Princess Leara's sitting room and sat. She didn't know why her mother had bothered making an unexpected trip to Naroni with only that detestable Sir Searle for company, or why the woman wanted a word with her in private while Catherelle had only received a brief greeting when they had arrived around suppertime the night before. Nevertheless, her mother had specifically requested this; Ellona had protested, but the king insisted that her mother deserved her respect. He'd said she had to have this talk. The queen had also said that she had to have this talk, and Sir Searle and Catherelle and everyone else had said so too.

So Ellona would speak to her mother; no one had told her, however, that she had to be nice. "What the hell do you want?"

Her heavy lids drooping theatrically, her mother shook her head. "So much for my hope that living among royalty would teach you some manners."

As if to prove the point further, Ellona slouched and placed her fingernail between her teeth, tearing off its arc and spitting it to the hardwood. She'd hoped her mother would be driven from the room in disgust--but instead, she laughed with a malicious melody, tossing back her smooth dark hair as she tilted her head. "Oh, Ellona, what does that Prince Ietrin see in you?"

Ellona scowled. There was little she cared to discuss with her mother, and Prince Ietrin was no exception. "He doesn't see anything in me--he just wants me to sleep with him."

"I know," her mother agreed, "and you should sleep with him."

The only thing that kept Ellona upright at the statement's coda was the sudden insignificance of physics. Her mother's mind, she knew only too well, did not work like most peoples, but there were ideas that she would have never expected even of Elarys. "You've got to be fucking joking."

"Where do you learn such dirty words?" The light taunt of her mother's giggle was not in the least reassuring. "But no, Ellona, I'm serious; there are far worse decisions a woman can make than bedding a prince."

Was she really saying this? What sort of mother told her daughter to open her legs for a boy who already had a betrothed--and a higher-ranking betrothed, at that? And most importantly... "Why would I want to sleep with Ietrin? He's a stuck-up, brainless prick!"

Her mother held up her hand and examined the tips of her fingers, her unaffected features making it perfectly clear that Ellona had no say in this. "Precisely--he's a dim-witted young man who will one day inherit the throne. If you were to secure yourself a position as his mistress, then you could have him wrapped around your finger; the possibilities would be limitless."

"But I don't even like him!" she protested.

Her mother sniffed. "You don't have to like him--you just have to give him what he wants so that he will return the favor one day."

"But why should I want to waste myself as a mistress?" demanded Ellona, studying her scheming mother through narrowed eyes. Mad--the woman had to be mad. "Even if his wife up and died, it's not like he'd marry a knight's daughter. Wouldn't I be better off married to someone attainable?"

That cold smile never leaving her mouth, Elarys shook her head. "Ellona, do you really think that Prince Ietrin feels anything for that dough-faced little dumpling his father picked out for him? Men of rank do not marry for love. His wife will be a figurehead, and a vessel for his heirs, but his mistress and her children will hold his heart and mind--and will be in a far better position to pull the strings."

Ellona frowned; if nothing else, she supposed she had just figured something out. "Is that why you went through so much trouble to send us here in the first place? You wanted parade your two drastically different daughters in front of the idiot crown prince and see who he preferred, then have whoever he picked seduce him into running the kingdom according to your every whim?"

Her mother sighed. "You really do have no subtlety; we're going to have to work on that."

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