Page 13

13

BESSA

When the first suitor, Prince Rontu, arrived a couple of weeks early, I thought nothing of it. He seemed as interested in snow games as love games, constantly trekking out each afternoon to play and explore, and staying up drinking ale all evening by the fire. When the next two suitors showed up one after another, all bearing gifts, I started to get suspicious.

Jarth de la Silverwood and Gillian of the Violent Tides arrived only a day apart in front of traveling retinues that put my entire castle staff to shame. I was starting to worry where to house everyone and wondered if Noll could be enticed to reopen long-closed rooms at the Dancing Snowflake. What would that cost the crown? I tried calculating it, but Jarth was approaching me rather than getting settled as Gillian opted to do first.

He bowed, presenting me with a beautiful wooden chest that smelled exquisite. “Silverwood is pleased to present to your majesty, Queen Bessa of Frostvale, a symbol of our support for your crown.”

As far as I could remember, Jarth was the nephew of the king of Silverwood and a small pawn on his uncle’s vast board of dominance. It behooved the king nothing to send his sister’s son. I couldn’t tell if Jarth was annoyed at his expendability or pleased to be useful.

He was pleasing enough with the customary silver hair and silver eyes of his countrymen, although a little shocking at first. Only the royal family had both the true silver hair and silver eyes while everyone in his retinue possessed either one or the other.

Mika came forward to accept the chest and open it for me, revealing a velvet cushion and a lute. “If I may, your majesty?” Jarth asked, still in a low bow. He looked up from behind a shock of thick silver hair that hung across his forehead and even I could tell the effect was agreeable. I wished I could know how many women that worked on in Silverwood. I had a feeling his bed never wanted for warmth.

“Please,” I said, indicating the lute.

Jarth smiled, and began plucking the strings. A beautiful song burst from his lips about fair maidens and dancing dragons under the light of a milk moon.

We all clapped and it wasn’t just politeness. Mika was breathless. “That was beautiful, my lord,” she said and I nodded in agreement. But, you know, regally.

Jarth smiled and put the lute back. “I hope the lute will find a lovely home at your court,” he said, alluding to himself in that courtly way I’d come to expect from my suitors. “As you know, Silverwood is famous for its yew trees. Our current treaty focuses on longbow production, but I thought it might be more… timely… if I showed you what else yew is capable of,” Jarth explained, his words hiding layers of meaning.

“Extremely timely, as I have already won a war, my lord,” I reminded him. “So I am in need of other… capable things.” I hoped I was matching his seductive tone and not coming off as a great idiot.

“Indeed. Well fought, your majesty.” He looked around the shabby Great Hall and I tried not to wince. I had to own it. Frostvale was a tough country. We didn’t need velvets and yew lutes to survive.

“Frostvale is much more beautiful than I had expected,” Jarth admitted, admiring the pine-covered mountain peaks as the last of his retinue was ushered in the great doors.

“What did you expect?” I asked curiously. What was the gossip about our kingdom in other lands? Sunfalls clearly used us as their monster myth, which was a little disheartening and a little invigorating. Let them all be scared!

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that,” he said, reddening. “Well, maybe I did. We all hear how cold and inhospitable it is and how the people are icy reflections of their land.”

“I see. And now?”

“Nothing of the sort!” he exclaimed. “My welcome couldn’t have been warmer.”

“I’m glad to hear. Will you join us tonight for dinner?”

Jarth de la Silverwood nodded once, standing straight. “I am looking forward to it, your majesty.”

“The cold does not claim us.” I gave him a brief bow and took my leave, my mind already wandering. Ever since my visit to Ambrose’s secret garden, it was hard to keep myself steady. When I wasn’t pressing my gloves to my nose and inhaling the lingering scents of lavender—or imagining the bees trundling along the petals and flying heavily laden with pollen back to their hives—I was actively trying not to picture Ambrose.

He cropped up more and more in my imaginary garden wanderings, bent over his raised beds, pressing his fingers into the fertile soil, letting the bees land on his outstretched fingertips. It was infuriating. If the man truly wanted to help me, he’d give me more magical candles without all the strings attached. He’d craft candles of real power, ones to bring my naysayers to their knees and ones to make all of these suitors go away. He might deny any involvement in magic, but I was no fool. I hadn’t united an entire kingdom under my banner by playing the fool. There might have been a little bit of war weariness and a lot of bit of luck, however.

Filomena and Bram walked together, their heads bent in discussion, no doubt, about my suitor situation. Everyone would slowly but surely begin to show their hands regarding which suitor they preferred, and I would have to be careful not to offend any of my council with my choice. Choosing none of them didn’t seem to be an option, but I would hold out as long as possible, playing one member off the other if I could. Such a tactic could buy months, maybe even years. The truth was, by choosing a suitor, I would alienate someone else. Many others, even. I might make the wrong alliance or miss a better one. By delaying and choosing no one, I would keep my autonomy. I would not die in childbirth and I would bow to no man. Frostvale’s integrity would forever remain intact without foreign interference.

It was simple. I would have to continue sending out mixed messages. Would I? Or wouldn’t I?

At the thought of all the political maneuvering, I suddenly felt weary. I could use some lemon balm tea and a comfortable chair. Tendrils of doubt crept in my mind as I watched the pair of councilors. Why did I ever think I could do this? Because a little fox came and sat on my lap while I was in a dungeon and made me feel warm? What a lark!

As if sensing my thoughts, or at least, my roiling emotions, Eska put her warm nose against the back of my neck where no one would notice, as if urging me to be on with it.

I called out greetings to them and gave my sister a look to send her on her way. She raised an eyebrow but scattered. “Bram, you wanted to speak to me?” I asked pointedly. “I have time now.”

Bram had asked to do no such thing, but the mental seeds I had sown in the last council meeting had begun to sprout.

He quickly nodded. “Ah yes, of course. I would be honored for your time.”

We began a slow walk through the Great Hall amid chatter and merry work. Just the sense of things happening and people working around the clock managed to make the castle feel warmer, even if it was only mind games.

“The suitors and their retinues are making themselves at home,” I ventured.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“I’m glad of it,” I continued cautiously. “If I am to choose one soon, they will need to see what they are in for, living up here in the frozen mountains and valleys as we do.”

Bram nodded primly, his gloved hands clasped together as he walked. His small shoes clacked against the frozen stone, and his long robes made him look even smaller in stature. And he was quite petite, hovering around my height. “Quite a good practice, your majesty. They must know. Honesty is the best policy.”

I gave him a sidelong look, long enough for him to catch it. “And what else do you think, Councilor? Honestly?”

Bram’s cheeks reddened slightly as he realized I was seeking his advice and that was why I had pulled him aside in front of another councilor. To show everyone my respect for him.

“Honestly, your majesty? I would choose the suitor who has the most of what we have the least.”

I nodded as if considering his logic and made gentle noises of agreement. “Mmm, that makes sense, Councilor. Who comes to mind?”

“Sunfalls sent their suitor first, eager and agreeable no less, but to me, that makes it clear that their kingdom is desperate for some reason.”

I could barely hold in a laugh. Of course, they could think of no other reason why they might have put in their bid as early as possible. Well, it might be true. Sunfalls was a source of grain, and while we were never in a time of abundance, we weren’t starving. No more than any other kingdom in times of scarcity.

“So who?” I prodded him.

“The seas, your majesty. We must always have access to meat.”

I tried to pull the name of the prince of the seas from the recesses of my mind, which lately had been more preoccupied with wildflowers and candles than meat and coal. Probably not the best thing for a queen. I needed more focus in my life. Finally, I banished Ambrose from my mind and pulled up the name. “Gillian, prince of the Violent Tides. They worship the god of sea ice, though, which would be a bit of a stretch for our people.”

“Correct,” Bram nodded. “The worship of Nilas would be something to consider, but I didn’t know your majesty was so religiously inclined.”

“We do fine now, you know. Between our own ice fishing for pike and mussels in the river and our trade in ice for seal meat, it has sustained us since before my father took the throne. And to sell ourselves to the Violent Tides and Nilas…”

“It is not smart to rely so heavily on others for necessities. Trade agreements can always be upended, your majesty,” Bram said primly. “And we are on the unfortunate end of an uneven one for decades now. No offense to your un-sainted father’s policies.”

“But to have a king from a foreign land, would we still be Frostvale?” I mused as if more to myself. “Would a foreign king listen to my council as well as I do?”

“Hm…”

I pressed, just the tiniest bit more. “I can’t imagine they would consent during marriage negotiations to remain as my prince consort. They would want to be king, and a king always ranks higher than a queen.”

I let him think this logic through, watching in glee as the wheels began to churn. “Not nearly half as well,” Bram admitted, no doubt thinking specifically of himself and not the Glacial Council as a whole.

I clapped him on the back. “Just things I wonder at night, Councilor. That’s all.”

“Very wise, your majesty. Very wise. But we must choose a suitor.” Bram tapped the side of his nose with a finger and bent in as if revealing some quiet secret. “Perhaps one that’s more, shall we say, malleable than others, eh? Younger, eager. You know of which type I speak.”

I nodded, my eyes solemn and wide. “Oh, of course. Of course. Perhaps the coronation isn’t the best time to choose, even! Perhaps we should even force them all to come back for another ball down the line. Even a year from now, when Frostvale is in a better position to negotiate with future kings. Those who return will be most interesting to watch. Perhaps a second-son who would consent to being my prince consort only.”

“Now that’s not a bad idea, your majesty. A year? Certainly not, but another ball? Yes, why not? To throw two balls in a year in Frostvale? Why, we would be the talk of the whole of the Ilex Isles! The other kingdoms wouldn’t know what to make of us. First, a young queen ruling alone, next two balls!”

I smiled and left. A young queen ruling alone. Now that sounded exactly like what I had in mind. From his mouth to Gelid’s frostbitten ears, may he freeze in eternity.

I had a good feeling I’d gotten Bram over to my side. Rune was a bit harder to read. I had another good feeling he could see right through my flattery, but he seemed content to let me rule as I saw fit for now. Rune might trouble me or he might turn into my best ally. Only time would tell.

Obviously, it only took him until dinner that night to annoy me to no end, but first, I had to find a sister. A well-intentioned, yet thorn-in-my-side sister.