“It’s a wedding gift,” Samson said, placing his arm around her shoulder. She wanted to tell him that she could handle the questions herself, but Samson was already smiling his wide grin, and the journalists zeroed in.
“Five thousand soldiers are a wedding gift?”
“For the queen of Ravence, why not?” He turned to her, eyes bright. “I wanted to show her that I serve her and only her. And now my men do too.”
“Does that mean you have cut all ties with Jantar? With King Farin?”
For a moment, Elena saw Samson’s eyes darken before he turned to the journalist. “We are looking for peace, not war. Cutting off ties would hardly help with that.”
“As a Sesharian, how do you feel about Jantar’s conquest of your—”
“Do you want peace?” Elena said suddenly.
The journalist, the one with the mouse nose, blinked. “Pardon?”
“Do you want war against the Jantari or peace?” she repeated, politely.
“Your Highness, with great respect, I am asking the questions and if you could just answer—”
“You’re my countryman,” Elena said. “What kind of ruler would I be if I didn’t hear whatyouwant? Your opinion matters to me. Do you want war or peace?”
“Um.” The journalist glanced at her colleagues, who seemed just as befuddled by Elena’s train of thought. “I want whatever is best for our country.”
“And I the same.” Elena looked to the other journalists, eyes cold, voice pleasant. “So allow me to do my job and do what’s best for our country, yes? If marrying the leader of the Black Scales to get Farin’s ear allows me to negotiate for peace, then I would happily do so. As long as he doesn’t mind a little foray into the sands.” She winked at Samson.
The journalists chuckled at this, though mouse-nose still looked uneasy.
“No more questions, now,” Ferma said, stepping in front. “Her Highness and her betrothed are needed elsewhere.”
Samson touched her elbow.
“Come, let’s meet the men,” he whispered.
They turned to go when Elena spotted her father by the gates of the base, looking down at her.
“Wait a moment,” she said. Gathering up the folds of her sari, Elena walked up the steps.
“Father, join us,” she said.
“You go ahead,” Leo said. He stood with his back to the sun, his jade earring glittering. “And, Elena, don’t let Samson steal your spotlight. Especially when you’re talking about peace. Control the conversation and steer the questions. You know how to do so better than him.”
Elena blinked, surprised. “He only meant to help.”
“Still.” There was a strange look in his eyes. “You’re better suited than him.”
He kissed his three fingers and pressed them against her head. “Remember,youare the heir.”
Before she could reply, her father turned on his heel and swept back inside.
Elena watched him go, suddenly uneasy. Slowly, she smoothed her sari, and returned to Samson.
“Lead the way,” she said, voice carefully neutral.
She followed her fiancé down the embankment, Ferma and Yassen trailing behind. They reached a tent of the commanding officers. At their approach, the Black Scales came to attention, their hands crossing their chests in salute.
“Hail the sun and her flaming sword!” they cried.
“At ease,” Samson said, and they immediately relaxed.
