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Chapter eleven

Seraphina

“ Y our Majesty, what an honor it is to have received your invitation for a private audience,” Ambassador Giasone Ezzo of Drakmor purred amid his low bow. “At last.”

There was something decidedly oily about the Drakmori ambassador Seraphina had never cared for. Something that made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, especially when his dark eyes clawed across her body as they were doing right at that moment.

As if the man was intent on cataloging her every detail.

“But I see the Baron of Crestley is not in attendance,” Lord Ezzo observed as he made a show of looking about her receiving chamber.

Aside from herself and the ambassador, only Duke Percival and Duchess Edith had warranted an invitation…along with her special gu ests, who had yet to arrive. But her godparents already stood close at hand, ready to play the part of chaperone and emotional support alike.

At mention of Lord Tiberius, though, Seraphina could feel the sudden dark weight of Duke Percival’s frown threatening to smother them all. The rumors circulating about her and the baron bothered her godfather to no end.

Seraphina pasted on a smile. “No, the baron will not be joining us today.”

“What a shame. I’ve always found him to have a sharp tongue and a charming wit.” Lord Ezzo sighed, though there was a sly curve to the man’s smile she immediately detested.

She was no fool. She knew exactly what the rest of the world thought about her friendship with Lord Tiberius—in part because Duke Percival would never let her forget it.

All of Avirel thought the mercer’s son-made-baron to be her lover. That they were secretly wed. That she had broken her betrothal with King Edmund for the sake of her childhood friend.

She had even heard that in Drakmor, a song was composed about the whole sordid affair—the story of the lustful queen, her handsome peacock, and the king made a fool by them both.

As the rumors went, the song had been rather popular, in fact, until King Edmund had ordered tongues be slit as a punishment simply for singing it.

If only the world realized the truth—that the closest to intimacy she had ever come with Tiberius was a misguided kiss on the cheek she had gifted him when they were both fifteen—she was certain they would pity her rather than paint her a harlot. It was a kiss he had been mortified to receive and had promptly rejected, after all.

Even now, half a lifetime later, that memory haunted her still.

“I would rather spend the evening with no one other than you, my lord, naturally,” Seraphina eventually replied to the ambassador. Her own tone dripped with all the honey she could muster. “For it is such an honor to receive the representative of Elmoria’s premiere ally…at last.”

With a smile pinned on her lips, she extended a hand to the man in an unspoken invitation. After only a single beat of pause, he stepped forward to offer his arm so she might settle her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

Within that sudden nearness, she was painfully aware of the scent of spice clinging to his skin—some overwhelming mixture of clove and ginger.

The sheer strength of it sent her head pounding in complaint.

“I’m so terribly honored, Your Majesty,” Lord Ezzo purred again within those closer quarters, his breath tickling the side of her face. No doubt he thought he was being alluring.

He wasn’t.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” came Seraphina’s immediate reply as she allowed the man to lead her toward the table that had been prepared for their dinner. Greenery adorned the space in a fresh splash of color with fern sprigs and flowers from the gardens interspersed amongst the selection of fruits, pastries, and game—a favorite source of meat within the gnarled and tangled wilds of Drakmor .

Seraphina much preferred the domesticated beasts of Elmoria’s rolling hills.

“And how well Elmoria treats its allies, Your Majesty,” Lord Ezzo bantered as he guided her into one of the waiting chairs. “Why, are those my favorite apricot pastries I see in attendance tonight?”

“Indeed so,” Duke Percival finally interjected. Her godfather pulled out a chair for Duchess Edith while he spoke. “I am rather fond of them myself, my lord, so what luck for us both.”

“Mm,” was Lord Ezzo’s only reply.

And with that, Seraphina had officially had her fill of small talk.

From across the table, she felt Duchess Edith’s eyes digging into her, as if her godmother could sense her intentions before she next opened her mouth to speak.

She pretended as if she did not notice.

“Might we all agree we are now finished with this whole business of feigning niceties, or shall we waste yet more time by continuing for a bit longer?” she asked, unable to keep the thought to herself any longer.

At her left, Duke Percival choked on his wine.

At her right, Lord Ezzo smiled at her with all the cheer of a cat that had just swallowed a bird whole.

She dared not look across the table at Duchess Edith to see just what her godmother thought of her plain speech.

The Drakmori ambassador declared, “I can’t help but admire a woman who possesses all the subtlety of an Arathian war elephant.” He claimed an apricot pastry for himself. “Very well, Your Majesty. Let us speak plainly with one another.”

The man’s teeth crunched into the treat, and flakes of pastry dusted the front of his doublet. He didn’t even bother swallowing before he spoke around the mouthful of apricot to further invite, “Why don’t you start?”

“Your king has not returned any of our letters, my lord,” Seraphina observed without further preamble, her eyes unwavering upon Ambassador Ezzo’s own.

This time, the Drakmori took the time to swallow before he spoke.

“The king is a very busy man, as I am sure you know all too well, Your Majesty,” Lord Ezzo cooed. As if she were a child. As if she were a simpleton. “But no ill will was intended, I assure you—”

“My people are dying every day in Mysai,” Seraphina bit out, tossing aside all pretense, all double-speak, and all manners as her patience frayed at last. Within her mind burned the image of Goldreach burning. Was that to be next if she could not secure aid for Mysai?

Thoroughly ignoring the sound of Duke Percival rumbling from her side with his unspoken thoughts, Seraphina blazed onward with a scathing reminder of, “For generations, since the days of the Great Conquest, Elmoria and Drakmor have enjoyed a long-lasting and powerful friendship. Many times has Elmoria answered Drakmor’s call. And now when we cry out for help, suddenly Drakmor is silent. ”

Lord Ezzo broke the connection between her gaze and his. His eyes lowered to the apricot pastry still in his hand, only partially eaten. In the silence that followed, she could plainly feel the eyes of both Duchess Edith and Duke Percival boring into her as her godparents strove to gain her attention.

She avoided looking at them, though.

She knew exactly what they wanted to convey.

They wanted to advise caution. They wanted her to play demure. To ask nicely. But the time for asking nicely was long past.

Still, Ambassador Ezzo avoided her gaze. Those tense moments of silence ticked on while Seraphina waited for him to finally look her in the face and tell her she was wrong.

Tightening her jaw, Seraphina snapped, “And you mean to sit there and tell me your king means us no ill will?”

That drew the Drakmori’s gaze back her way.

“Need I remind Your Majesty that Drakmor shares a border with Arath?” Ambassador Ezzo asked, his tone suddenly laced with ice. “That we are pressed by enemies on all sides? That our border provinces are harried night and day by Kunishi barbarians, looting and pillaging? At least Elmoria enjoys the expanse of the Straight lying between her shores and Arath.”

Yet another tense silence fell between her and the Drakmori—heavy and impenetrable until Duchess Edith finally sliced through the quiet with a diplomatic remark of, “You have our sympathies, Ambassador Ezzo. We have heard many disheartening things about Drakmor’s troubles with Kuni. ”

A scoff escaped the ambassador, and he slumped deeper into his chair. Setting aside his unfinished pastry, he plucked up his goblet of wine instead and gave it an absentminded swirl. “Disheartening?” the man dully echoed. “The creatures of Kuni are animals , Your Grace. Ruthless and brutal.”

Seraphina arched an eyebrow. “Need I remind the ambassador that our court hosts two Kunishi at present? An Oracle of the Lord and her Shield, at that?”

Lord Ezzo’s attention lazily trailed toward her again. “Well, yes. But that’s a bit different, now isn’t it?”

As if the Oracle had been waiting for that very moment to enter, the doors to Seraphina’s receiving chamber suddenly flung open to reveal the prophetess standing there, next to her Shield. Both Kunishi were stunning in matching outfits of silver and gold. They gleamed with all the brilliance of the heavens when they stepped into the room together amidst a soft tinkling of the Oracle’s many bells.

Lord Ezzo spilled his wine when he lurched to his feet.

“Oracle Tsukiko,” Seraphina greeted the Kunishi woman. “You honor us with your presence.” With a smile curving her lips, she added, “Lord Ezzo, you have the great pleasure of being in the presence of Oracle Tsukiko, the Star of the East, and her Shield, Ichiro of Kuni.”

As if struck dumb by the Oracle’s sudden appearance, Lord Ezzo remained silent for the moment. But Tsukiko herself soon filled that silence with a murmur of, “Thank you for your invitation to this dinner, Your Majesty. I am greatly looking forward to hearing all about the peace summit you are planning.”

Blinking, the Drakmori ambassador asked, “Peace summit? What peace summit?”

Seraphina gestured for Lord Ezzo to retake his seat as she explained, “Elmoria wishes to formally invite Drakmor to a peace summit, which will take place on Nerina Reef. Clearly, there has been a misunderstanding between our two kingdoms, and we wish to make it right and sign into existence a fresh peace treaty before relations between us can sour further.”

Though Lord Ezzo seemed perfectly entranced by the sight of Oracle Tsukiko settling into her chair, the Drakmori soon sliced a look Seraphina’s way. “You wish to force my king’s hand in sending aid to Mysai.”

Seraphina presented the ambassador with another tight smile. “I wish for us to come to an arrangement which we both feel is mutually beneficial.”

Lord Ezzo tilted his head. He glanced about the table, including Duke Percival and Duchess Edith in his question when he asked, “Does this mean Elmoria is considering a new marital contract? Will there be a royal wedding at last?”

No , Seraphina wanted to scream. The word burned on her tongue and rattled against her teeth, desperate to be loose. She didn’t need a husband. Elmoria didn’t need a king. Her father was wrong. She would not be the ruin of Elmoria.

She could do this on her own .

But within her mind, she could still see Mysai so clearly where it drowned beneath that black smoke. Still she saw Goldreach burning. Still she saw her people lying dead at her feet.

Seraphina clenched her hands on her lap to stop their trembling. Across from her, Duchess Edith presented a grim smile. At her side, Duke Percival breathed out a quiet sigh through his nose.

Just as the time for asking nicely was long past, so was the time for acting on mere pride alone. Did she wish to chain herself to Drakmor? No .

But would she? To save her people?

Oracle Tsukiko had been right.

She did already know what she must do, deep down.

“As I already said, my lord,” Seraphina slowly uttered, feeling for all the world like a woman about to sign away her soul, "we seek to find an arrangement that both parties will consider…” The words stuck to her tongue that time, leaving her struggling to spit out a final, “Mutually beneficial.”

“Yes,” Oracle Tsukiko added in her soft lilt. “And I am greatly looking forward to traveling with Her Majesty’s party so I might meet your king myself.”

Lord Ezzo’s sudden smile was as brilliant as the midday sun against snow. Dipping his head, the Drakmori purred over what was left of his wine, “His Majesty will be so happy to hear it.”