Chapter 7: A courtly interrogation

Soren stood with his hands at his sides, shoulders back, and head up. “I was apprenticed to learn the trade of seafaring, Your Majesty, and have spent the past ten years in service on various vessels.” 

“Judging from your title, it sounds like you did well.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty. I earned the title of captain, but decided that I had been away from home for long enough and it was time to return.” 

“You must have been quite lonely on the sea. As the son of my highest ranking and most trusted general, and a future lord in your own right, I would say there is much you can learn here at court, and plenty of women to teach you,” King Evert said with a laugh. Soren heard the lords and ladies behind him titter their amusement. 

He swallowed and glanced at the princess, whose attention he could feel even from the distance between them. “Actually, Your Majesty, I would like to join your service.” As he made his request, Soren’s mind was far away, remembering how he and Annalise used to play together as children. It had been years before her curse, but not before he’d known that he would marry her one day. 

But, all things in time. Much had changed since he’d left; in fact, even in the handful of minutes he’d been in the castle, he’d noticed that the court’s atmosphere felt different. While Soren longed to ask for Annalise’s hand in marriage, he was nothing if not cautious, and his time at sea had taught him the importance of assessing how the wind blew. He would get reacquainted with both the workings of the court and with Annalise, and then, when the time was right and he was sure that she returned his affections, he’d petition the king. He’d gained years of experience navigating the worst of storms and most perilous of routes, and he didn’t dare rush into anything without knowing where the dangers lie, both seen and unseen, with something so precious on the line. 

“This court has heard your request and we will grant you your wish. Once we have finished hearing other petitions, I’ll decide where you will serve,” King Evert said. 

Soren bowed and returned to the crowd, taking a spot at the side of the room. Not long after, a woman dressed in delicate finery approached him. Pearls and jewels were woven through her dark brown hair, which shone in the soft light from the large windows lining the walls and contrasted perfectly with the yellow and orange hues of her dress. Thin gold bracelets encircled her wrists, matching the filigree dangling pendants in her ears.

She introduced herself to him as Lady Evelina Adrilla while they waited for the next supplicant to enter the room, and the court engaged in soft conversations. When Soren made a witty comment, her laugh sounded like the tinkling of bells, albeit just a shade louder than he would have expected for such a crowded place. A passing glance at the throne revealed the king glowering at them, his hands flexing on his thighs. 

Soren excused himself and put distance between himself and Lady Evelina, and the king visibly relaxed. He pushed his way near the front and took up a spot next to his father. 

“Already making friends, I see,” his father said. 

“Who is she?” 

“Lady Evelina is the daughter of Lord Adrilla, who is a minor noble over several eastern villages. She’s rumored to be favored by the king and even had special attention afforded to her at dinner last night. You must be truly fortunate; she appears to like you.” 

A pit of dread settled in Soren’s stomach; the tales of King Evert’s love for beautiful women and his tempers were legendary enough to stretch out to sea. “I’ll avoid her from here on out.” 

His father didn’t respond beyond a curt nod, but Soren thought he saw something akin to approval in the older man’s eyes. 

Not too long after Soren’s re-introduction, a Rhinnean delegation entered. Unlike the other supplicants, armed guards escorted them into the throne room and took up station between them and the king.

Over breakfast that morning Soren’s father had told him about the arrival of the delegation from their enemy, and he was well aware of the history between the Doveans and the Rhinneans: the hotly contested border between the two kingdoms lay on the mountainous west side of Dovea. The most recent war between them occurred when King Evert first ascended the throne, but to everyone’s surprise there had been only peace in the intervening years. Much of the border fell within the Kierson estate, and after generations of defending their land from mountain beasts and sworn enemies, their military prowess seemed nearly as hereditary as their title.  

The Rhinneans were dressed in various shades of red and black. When they stopped in front of King Evert, they gave flourishing bows that were synchronized so perfectly Soren wondered if they’d practiced ahead of time. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty, King Evert of Dovea. May you have a long life and happiness. I am Selveg, ambassador from Rhinnea. My men and I are here on business from our king, and request an audience with you to hear our petition,” the head of the delegation said in a smooth voice that sounded like dark syrup. 

“And what does your king wish of this court?” King Evert asked. 

“Our former king, Vanar the Strong, rest in peace, has died and his son, King Nelan the Wise has ascended the Mountain Throne. As such, he has charged us with reminding you of the treatise between our two kingdoms at the conclusion of the last war, and has requested you send your daughter to him with all expediency so that they may be married at spring equinox.” 

As the Rhinnean delegate spoke, King Evert’s eyebrows drew together even as everyone else’s rose in surprise. Treaties with the Rhinneans were considered the diplomatic equivalent of a cloth plugging a full wine barrel; at the slightest jostle, the cloth fell out, leaving the blood-red wine to flow freely. Despite his extensive history lessons, Soren did not know of such a treaty, but he was sure that when it was originally signed, no one would have expected it to last more than a few years. 

As the words sunk in and he realized exactly what was being discussed, Soren’s heart dropped to his toes. His hand drifted to his side and tightened reflexively on his sword hilt. Unlike many of the older generation, thanks to the efforts of his father, Soren had grown up during a time of peace and harbored no hatred towards the Rhinneans. Whatever prejudice he may have held was quickly washed away during his third year sailing when he’d served under a Rhinnean first mate who had been a good man and treated Soren sternly but fairly despite the history between their two peoples. 

No, it wasn’t because the other suitor was a Rhinnean that caused Soren to want to reach across the vast distance and strangle his neck; it was because despite the esteem and high rank of the Kierson family name, in the grand hierarchy of courts and kingdom one of the few stations he could not compete against was that of a king. 

He forced himself to let go of his sword hilt and to relax his jaw, lest he crack a molar from grinding his teeth. Judging from the rapidly darkening face of the king, Princess Annalise’s fate was far from sealed. 

“You would presume to pull my only daughter, my heir, away from the throne to marry your cur-bitten child king? I do not recall signing such a betrothal. How am I to know that you haven’t made it up?” King Evert thundered, his dark brows drawing together in a scowl like storm clouds brewing. 

Despite the angry king sitting in front of him and the surrounding guards, Ambassador Selveg stood tall. “It’s been years since you signed the betrothal; nearly as long as the princess has been alive. I understand that your copy of the agreement may have been lost in the intervening time, especially as tragedy has plagued your household. To assuage your concerns and to prove that we are only acting with the utmost goodwill, we have brought our copy of the treaty, which includes the betrothal clause. As you will see, your signature and that of your High General, along with your seals, are both here.” The Rhinnean produced the scroll with a flourish and handed it to a guard, who took it to the king. “We have also brought with us a bride price for your daughter, to show our regard for her,” he added as King Evert unrolled the scroll.

Two Rhinneans stepped up to the side of the ambassador, hefting a small-yet-substantial-looking wooden chest between them. With a flourish, Ambassador Selveg opened the lid, revealing an overflowing abundance of gold and precious gems, several of which cascaded to the floor with a clink reminiscent of rain on armor. The courtiers nearest the chest gaped at the extravagant wealth displayed, and the ones further away craned their necks to get a better look.

At the gasps and subsequent swell of conversation, King Evert glanced up at the delegation, then back down at the scroll before setting it aside. “Look around you, gentlemen. Do you think I have any need for third-rate jewels and gold? My advisors will examine this document and verify its legitimacy, and you’ll have my answer tomorrow.” 

“Your Majesty, please forgive me for speaking so plainly but time is of the essence–” Ambassador Selveg ducked as King Evert threw a silver plate at his head, and the last of his words were drowned out by the ringing clash as the plate and leftover food hit the floor.

“You will not dictate orders to me, Ambassador, and if you don’t wish to spend the night in the dungeons, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. I will inform you of my answer tomorrow.” The king’s voice reminded Soren of the calm that occurred in the eye of a hurricane—quiet, but no less deadly than the blustering winds and lashing rain. 

For a moment, the hall was silent with every eye riveted on the scowling king. Then Ambassador Selveg bowed deeply, and with the spell of the tableau broken, the guards escorted the delegation back down the royal hall. 

When the great throne room doors shut behind the last of the Rhinneans, King Evert shoved to his feet. “Court is adjourned for today,” he boomed before storming out. 

Princess Annalise rose next, as graceful as a willow tree dipping its fronds into a still pond. Her hands were clasped in front, her long light blue sleeves just short enough to reveal white gloves. She stood in silence, looking out over the court. Her eyes lingered on Soren for a moment, then she turned and glided away, exiting through a different door than the king. 

Once she’d left, conversation immediately broke out as everyone discussed the king’s angry departure. Soren didn’t have long to process the most recent court events; he was soon beset by several lords and a handful of ladies seeking to reintroduce themselves. After nearly twenty minutes of shaking hands and bowing, he felt something brush his elbow and was grateful to see his father at his side. 

“The boy has been gone for far too long to withstand so many names and faces, new and old. Remember that he’s more used to seeing the open ocean and rough sailors, and I don’t want him to be so intimidated by all these beautiful ladies that he declines to dine at court tonight,” General Kierson said loudly. The women surrounding them tittered, but eventually turned away, and the general and Soren left not long after. 

“What do you think King Evert will do?” Soren asked his father as they entered the carriage. 

The High General pursed his lips as he settled into the stuffed leather seats. “I’ve searched my memory for what the Rhinneans speak of, and although it was long, long ago, I think I remember such a clause being discussed. It was a hard time for me–your mother had passed recently, and you were a toddler who loved to run and climb on anything you could when no one was watching, which terrorized the staff. If I’m being quite frank, much of my recollections are clouded by grief and worry. My subordinates were handling most of the military day-to-day, and I wouldn’t be surprised if King Evert allowed such a thing to be added to the peace treaty. The Rhinneans had started the war to test his new kingship, and he’d wanted to turn the tables on them and use conquest to end the aggression once and for all, but with Princess Annalise as a fragile newborn and his High General wracked with grief, he may have sensed that it wasn’t time to reject the peace treaty and press an offensive. It was a wise move–especially as no one would have ever expected peace to last this long.”

They fell into silence as they waited in line with the other carriages, but as they passed over the castle drawbridge, the high general chuckled. “I hope you’re ready for this evening. There are only a handful of bachelors at court, and none as eligible or accomplished as you. I have it on good authority that many of the ladies are already salivating at the thought of pairing you off with their daughters.” 

“Why me? I’d wager the esteemed High General Kierson of Dovea is just as much of a catch,” Soren said. It was something he’d often wondered but had never had the courage to ask when he was younger. 

“I have no interest in remarrying, and have made that quite clear whenever the topic is mentioned anywhere in my vicinity. You’re right in that every year some ambitious mother with an older daughter or young widow gets a hair and tries her luck, but all of them swiftly find themselves disabused of their fantasies of bringing me to heel.” 

The silence in the carriage was heavy, and his father’s body language made it clear the matter was closed, but Soren still had more questions. “My mother died some twenty-five years ago. Why did you never remarry, Father?” 

“Varley keeps the house running just fine, and you had your tutors. There was never a need for another woman’s touch in our lives, so I saw no reason to bring anyone in. Now, I believe you are done asking these unnecessary questions.” 

“Not quite, actually.” 

“Yes, you are.” General Kierson’s mouth curved down into a frown as he pinned his son with a scorching look. 

Soren took in the expression with a calm gaze. He’d faced down a raging tempest with a battered ship, even lashing himself to the helm to ensure the waves didn’t wrench the wheel away and send him and his crew to a watery grave. He’d been through far too much to still be afraid of his father’s displeasure. “Surely these years have been lonely for you. Why did you never remarry after Mother?” he repeated. 

The general blinked slowly, then looked away and leaned back in his seat, staring up at the lacquered carriage ceiling. “Your mother was a special woman. She was kind and compassionate and loved with her whole heart. Everything about her was soft, but not in a sickly way. She was warm and tender and comfortable, like her lapdog. You remember Ember?” 

Soren nodded. His mother’s pet had died when he was a young boy, but he still remembered the small furry dog that always seemed to insist on sitting on his lap. He remained silent for fear that if his father were interrupted, he’d stop talking entirely. 

“She loved that little dog like it was her first child, and it loved her. They were kindred spirits; beautiful and delicate creatures whose main purpose always seemed to be to love others and to be loved in return. Even with all my campaigning, she never complained about how long I was away, and when I returned she always had the servants draw me a warm bath and bathed me herself, making sure all my bruises and injuries were tended to and then we spent the evening talking and catching up. She never once made me feel bad about my absences.” One corner of his father’s mouth quirked up as if savoring the memory. “Don’t mistake me—weak she was not. She knew her own mind and refused to let others walk over her. She kept up a steady correspondence with the other army wives, and if she thought I was acting unfairly, she was sure to let me know. The comfort of a roaring fire on a snowy day, the beauty of an early spring, and the wit and wisdom of the most seasoned diplomat were all attributes that she wore proudly like the finest jewels. How could any other woman compare? It would be unfair to ask any of them to even try.” 

Soren swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d never heard his father speak in such a way, and it made his heart ache to think about the woman he’d never known. “It sounds like you truly loved her.” 

“I still do. Deeply.” Soren’s father looked at him, then glanced away, his eyes glistening. “The ballroom was her favorite spot in the house. She’d spend hours there playing the piano, writing letters, and looking out over the gardens.” 

As the carriage rolled to a stop and his father got out, Soren sat in shocked silence. Suddenly, the reason the ballroom had been repurposed to a training room and armory made sense—his father spent several hours there every day practicing and keeping his skills sharp. Soren had always assumed it was for efficiency’s sake—it was the largest room in the house and had easy access to the gardens, but now he realized it was for another reason entirely; so that his father could remain close to the woman he still loved with his entire heart. 

He followed the high general inside, and then, before he could change his mind, wrapped his arms around his father. 

“I’m sure she loved you, too. I wish I could have met her. Thank you for telling me about her, even if it was painful,” he whispered. 

High General Kierson was stiff at first, but gradually relaxed and returned Soren’s hug. “Yes, well, like I said, your mother was a very special lady. I’m sure if she was still around she’d have her own ideas about which women you should pay court to, but we’ll just have to muddle through without her. I’ll write out a list of the different families with eligible daughters and what I know of them so that you can grasp the lay of the land before we head back to the castle.” 

Soren bowed, and his father walked away. As a dutiful son, he would read over the list and commit it to memory, but despite the tumultuous events of the day, he had no intention of paying court to any lady save one.