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March 14, 1204
"Please, Holladrin. You've escaped notice so far because everyone else is wrapped up in their own family dramas, but a mother never misses the way her daughter looks at a man--or the way a man looks at her daughter. I said nothing before because there was no need. With your Aunt Danthia dead, that has changed."
Her daughter's deer-to-the-bow look gave Riona no pleasure, but the balance of honesty and discretion was one of few maternal assets she could pride herself on. She'd never been the warmest of people, finding it easier to show affection by pulling strings in the background to make life easier for her children than by cuddling or hours of inane play, and there were days when there was guilt over it. But, Riona Sadiel didn't lie to her children, even if she sometimes had to omit the truth or hide behind cryptic wording. And Riona Sadiel let her adult children make their own decisions, and didn't pry.
Holladrin didn't need to be protected anyway, not from men. Anxious as she might have been at the moment, a clever, pretty girl from a powerful family didn't get to be her age and unmarried if she didn't know how to deal with unwanted suitors. Farilon was not unwanted. While Riona wouldn't pretend to see the appeal, he was kind and caring and loyal--somehow, he'd even managed to be that to Danthia, of all people. Not the choice she would have made for herself, but she didn't disapprove for her daughter.
But, Danthia's death hadn't been so long ago. No one missed her, and no one cared enough to bother taking her passing at more than face value, but if Farilon married so suspiciously early, either he or his new, beloved wife could raise a few eyebrows. That was a string Riona could pull.
"I think it's a fine match."
Her daughter's level of shock neither rose nor lowered, but its manifestation shifted. Where before there was fear, confusion now reigned: wide eyes squinting, quivering lip curled, tense shoulders slouched to a slight tilting of her head. "Sorry?"
"There's the age difference, sure, plus the fact that he was until recently your uncle by marriage--but, he's a stable sort, plus a marriage would renew the tie between House Andronei and the Royal Family that weakened when Farilon's brother left your Aunt Meera a widow. That, and you were adamant throughout your time at the university that you intended to return to Dovia, so on the off-chance that Queen Medea fears Farilon might make a move for her throne, I don't doubt she'd appreciate another reason for him to stay safely out of Naroni."
"From what I hear, Queen Medea isn't so paranoid, Mother--plus everyone knows Farilon has no interest in ruling. I see your point about the alliance, but Aunt Meera did give Conant three children before he died, so that bond lives on as long as they do. And surely it wouldn't seem appropriate if Farilon married again just yet! Especially if people know just how bad his marriage was."
"I didn't say that you ought to head for the chapel right this second." But, if they did head for the chapel, and Riona herself had championed that union... well, then at least any suspicion would be off of Holladrin and Farilon, and instead with the one who at least deserved it. "Give it another few months, well into the summer at least. No one should bat an eye at Farilon never marrying again, after all; he's still a young enough man, plus he couldn't be faulted for wanting an improvement on his first marriage."
"I suppose." Holladrin stood, as she often did when in need of absolute confirmation. Riona had a habit of doing the same. It was difficult to look someone in the eye from the disadvantage of a seat. "You're sure you approve, Mother?"
"You know I wouldn't have said so if I wasn't."
"Yes, but you must understand just how... well, how much of a relief it is," Holladrin finished in a please half-sigh as she stepped forth for a hug. "Thank you, Mother."
"You needn't thank me for wanting you to be happy, darling. So long as Farilon makes you happy and treats you well, why should I object?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 24, 1203
"I'm sure my absence at the party will be noted, of course. It always is. Our peers really do have no understanding to spare for an ill woman."
"I don't know if you really understand our peers," Riona muttered, more to the hearth in front of her than to her sister. The hearth was likely the better listener anyway. Danthia was almost never ill, and a clever attention seeker would switch methods once no one without some degree of obligation bothered to investigate any feigned illness she suffered.
That, and none of their peers understood Danthia. Riona herself didn't. In another time, another place, there might have been hope for her, or at least enough of an idea of what exactly made her what she was to think that hope could exist. A bad childhood couldn't have been all of it. Even if no one truly overcame a bad childhood, they still... felt. Acknowledged others, at least as more than a means to an end. Often went out of their way, in some cases, to prevent someone else from going through what they had.
Danthia didn't. She lacked even the self-awareness to know she didn't. It must have been a lonely life, thinking no one else mattered.
Hello, my name is Mercy.
Searle and Ren were hosting this year's Christmas party. It was perfect. Searle knew everything. Searle would make sure no one else knew anything. And for once... Danthia's illness would have been real. She would have the attention she always wanted, the regret she always wanted, the validation she always wanted. Or whatever the hell else she wanted. For one shining moment, she would be a queen, queen of a thought in the minds of those who learned of her death, a queen who lay dying while no one believed her.
The real Queen of Naroni, meanwhile, would be safe from any more misguided plots, no matter how foolish and unlikely to succeed.
"I just can't believe how rude everyone is. Even my own children couldn't be bothered to kiss me good night before leaving. The girl was always a lost cause, I suppose, but Roderick? Surely I raised him better than that!"
"I'm sure you hired a nanny who did." To Danthia's credit, many of their class couldn't have claimed much better. Riona herself wasn't the most nurturing of people, and for her children's own sakes she'd brought in someone whose strengths aligned with her weaknesses. But she did believe in giving credit where credit was due.
And not one of her children had ever been a 'lost cause'. Laralita wasn't either. Nor would be, she hoped, a Danthia born a thousand years in the future.
"Your daughter is a lovely girl."
"What good is 'lovely'? An alliance? I'm not interested in compromise."
"No one is--but it's how we get by. Even animals have figured that out."
"And maybe the lack of an individual who won't compromise is why they're still animals."
"Who's to say we're not still animals, sister?" Animals may have had concepts, after all. Fear, desire. Justice. Mercy.
Hello, my name is Mercy.
"Would you care for a cup of tea before I leave? I was going to go down to kitchens anyway; after the detour, my horse deserves a nice carrot."
"Hmm. Not sure why you'd bother, but I suppose if you're going down there anyway. You'll have to get my maid to brew it, though; Farilon insisted on giving the cook the night off."
"I can brew a cup of tea myself. I'm sure you could too, if you tried."
"Why should I? That's the cook's job."
"Of course it. And you need to focus on... whatever it is you do. I won't be long."
Badly planning assassinations, pretending to be ill, manipulating in spite of the lack of ability to do so.
What a tragic existence.
Sister, my name is Mercy.
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 14, 1203
"So." Business as usual, Riona didn't bother with a greeting, which suited Searle just fine. They'd been practically raised as siblings, and they saw each other frequently enough that formality was superfluous. Some thought Riona cold, at least if not compared to her sister--but, frankly, those same people might have found her to-the-point manner admirable had she been a man.
Of course, if she had been a man, who was to say that her sickly mother would have chanced any additional pregnancies, such as the one that had produced said sister? And if said sister hadn't existed, Riona--man or woman or whatever--couldn't have possibly been the person she was today.
"I take it this urgent summons of yours means that our suspicions were correct?"
"Indeed. My contacts within the Retribute itself confirm that they received Danthia's request." Searle fought the urge to roll his eyes. His cousin Danthia, at least, was far too stupid to further her own regicidal plots. It was rare enough that the Retribute risked its own cover on the assassination of a monarch, never mind if her sisters, nephew, and three-going-on-four children were also included in the contract. Selfishness was useful if not necessary to a degree, but it defeated its own purpose if it failed to acknowledge the agency of others, their ability to act counter to the selfish aim desired.
"Dear Lord. Don't tell me: some elaborate scheme to push Roderick closer to the throne."
"Exactly that. She didn't mention Farilon, but I don't doubt she'd smother him in his sleep shortly after if he did end up making her a queen. I don't even think Roderick would be safe, now that he's old enough that he wouldn't need her as regent; she could push for his early marriage and dispose of him once a malleable grandson was in the picture."
Riona sighed. Little as she liked being Danthia's minder, she was the only one left with any shred of affection for the woman. That didn't mean that she couldn't see beyond that love. Searle had once had a beloved brother, one who had become something twisted and irrational to the point of cruelty, one whose death had been a mercy to more than just himself. Danthia would be her own undoing one way or another, but Lord knew who else--what else--would be undone in turn if her demise kept solely to her own hands. "The Retribute isn't fool enough to murder a popular queen."
"Especially without anyone they'd deem deserving of being framed." A Retribute assassin, so Searle had heard, would introduce themselves to their mark in one of two ways: 'My name is Justice', or 'My name is Mercy'. "They see themselves as judge and jury where judges and juries fail. They won't take a contract for the sheer point of being paid, even if someone like Danthia could offer them enough coin to eliminate seven or eight royals."
"And a less scrupulous lone assassin would have lacked the resources to pull off such a feat. A fortunate thing for you and the other puppet masters of the world, such chaos trapped in its own brand of order." Riona clasped her hands together, as if in prayer though Searle doubted she had much prayer left in her. "The Retribute now have Danthia herself on their radar, don't they?"
"Likely. She didn't put her name to her letter, but they'll make efforts to trace a request like that one. They won't kill her unbidden, but if a client marks her as a target, she won't be in the clear."
"'My name is Justice'." Riona bit her lip. Her mother, Searle remembered as well as he did his own name, had often done the same, often when dealing with Danthia. "It may be a selfish thought, but I believe I'd rather my sister die at Mercy's hand."
NEXT CHAPTER:
June 23, 1187
"Sorry. You said Grandfather summoned you a few months back?"
It was more of a struggle to listen to Danthia now than it was usually, Riona found. Cladelia had been gone for some time now, and Haldred had told Riona and Catalina that they could use her old sitting room if they pleased--but never had Riona taken him up on that offer. She entertained her friends in the smaller sitting room, and not one of them had ever taken issue. Her sister, however--Princess of Naroni and all, though Riona couldn't for the life of her see the appeal of that land--had insisted on being entertained in the baroness's sitting room, as Riona would be baroness after Haldred and Tarien were gone. Riona wished that on neither of them, but as always, Danthia was not above voicing such thoughts.
"Yes. Good to see you were paying at least some attention." Danthia sniffed, waiting just long enough for Riona to sit. Though, it was hardly a surprise, old Searle of Valcria wanting to see Danthia; while the rest of the family seemed wary of her, she'd always been the apple of their grandfather's eye. "He wanted to know why Farilon and I had yet to conceive a child. When I told him Farilon had refused to bed me since our wedding night, he was furious. He knew I would be the one blamed, which just isn't fair, of course."
Possibly the only thing to have ever come out of her sister's mouth with which Riona agreed. Her own eldest had been born a lengthy four years after her wedding, and that had not come without its snide comments. But if Farilon simply did not want to sleep with Danthia, that was his business. "All right..."
"So, Grandfather decided to pay Farilon a little visit one evening. He brought some of his finest wine along. Farilon doesn't much care for wine, but everyone knows better than to insult Grandfather's generosity, so he had to drink every cup Grandfather poured--and Grandfather poured him quite a few. So, Grandfather left some hours later, and Farilon stumbled into bed, no doubt barely even aware of his own name--"
"Oh, no." There was only one place this story was going. Sad to say, Riona found nothing in this out of keeping with her sister or their grandfather. "You didn't..."
"Oh, we did." Smug, satisfied, and without a thought to the implications. Or to poor Farilon's well-being. "Come January, I'll be the mother of a Prince of Naroni."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 19, 1183
"I suppose she'll see her parents again soon."
It was blunt and thoughtless and maybe a little bitter, but Riona could have expected worse from Danthia. Some nonsense about Lileina missing the wedding tomorrow, she'd feared--as if a dying girl confined to hospice in a convent, a skeletal ten-year-old, head shorn having lost the strength to support her own silky red tresses, was still obligated to attend her sister's wedding.
Riona had half a mind to miss Danthia's nuptials herself. Everyone else would be at the wedding, if only out of sympathy for the plight of Farilon's family, and surely Lileina would appreciate it if she saw someone tomorrow, at least someone who wasn't one of the nuns who tended her? Who knew how many days she had now. How few, more like.
That said, Danthia was just as like to be alone, despite it being her wedding. She had no close friends--not that Riona had to think too hard about why. Their mother could not dress her and prepare her because their mother was dead, as was their stepmother. Their father could not walk her down the aisle because he was dead as well. Their brothers would attend, but she'd never been close with either of them, and whatever gradual illness had laid its claim to Lileina, Riona suspected it had now made its mark on Hjalmar as well.
She had their grandparents, of course, and she'd always been their grandfather's pet, but her grandmother had always been wary of her. Something's not quite right with that girl, Riona had heard her tell one of her uncles once, shortly after their father had remarried, after some incident between Danthia and Svanhild of which Riona had never learned the details. Not right at all.
"Father will enjoy having her back. He did love her best."
"Father didn't hate you," Riona muttered, though even if Danthia heard, she wouldn't believe it. Riona wasn't sure she did either. Their father had not wanted more than two children, but as heir to Valcria, he'd needed a son. Riona's being born a girl hadn't been a major hindrance, but Danthia's had required the birth of a third child--their brother Searle, the birth that had killed their mother.
Whether he'd known it or not, their father had never forgiven Danthia that.
"Pity, though. I did like having a little sister."
"I know you did." Satisfied with the flames, Riona stepped away from the hearth and joined Danthia by Lileina's bedside. She'd compromise, perhaps--attend the wedding, make an appearance at the reception, leave early to tend to Lileina. And possibly Primus would be willing to fore-go the wedding and keep Lileina company before Riona could get away? Her husband had never liked Danthia much...
"I've heard that miracles happen in Naroni. A pity that Farilon is no longer heir, or I'd be going there. I could have brought Lileina with me."
"Mmm. I don't know." She didn't want to say it in case Lileina woke, but Riona doubted she'd survive the trip. "But it's a nice thought."
And for not-so-nice thoughts, she would have gnawed off her own arm if that was the only reason Danthia wished her betrothed was still heir.
"You'll still be a princess."
"An honorary title. You'll have higher standing as baroness, once Primus's father and grandfather are gone."
"I'm not wishing either of them dead." With Lileina as she was, and Hjalmar less than a decade behind, there would be enough death in the coming years. "Don't go wishing that of Farilon's brother and nephew." Though in truth, not much of what she'd heard of King Ietrin was flattering.
"Wouldn't dream of it." Danthia leaned to the side, looking past Riona to their sister on the bed. Danthia was the opposite of squeamish, but even the iciest could tire of death. "But unusual circumstances arise on occasion. It wouldn't be horrible to hope for that."
"No. But don't be disappointed if it doesn't happen." Riona didn't need to glance back at Lileina to prove her point. Danthia had always responded best to unbroken, unblinking eye contact. "You're still marrying a prince. You'll never go hungry, and you have your health. You could have it a hell of a lot worse."
NEXT CHAPTER:
