And there was the matter of the cost of Xyrath’s “projects.”
She didn’t want to drain her funds, but she wanted to know the secrets the mage held, and the only way to get them was to maintain the contract. She gritted her teeth. “Pay it in full,” she said, as graciously as she could manage.
Paulin bowed.
“There is another matter, Steward.” Satia set down her cup. “Rosalind. I know she has served as the Royal Housekeeper long and well, and change is hard for all of us. But please speak to her about her attitude. It is upsetting that she continues to express her grief so publicly.”
“Majesty, I hadn’t noticed.” The Steward frowned. “She is quite skilled, Majesty.”
“She wears a small black armband,” Satia said. “Subtle yet defiant.”
“Majesty, I will speak with her.” Paulin shrugged. “But Rosalind has always been fairly strong-willed.”
“Perhaps just a gentle suggestion,” Satia smiled. “Maybe she will listen to you.” She ignored the doubt in his face and gave him a dismissing nod. “My thanks, Steward.”
Paulin bowed deeply and backed away, through the door that Nora held open. Turning to watch him go, Nora looked down the hall and sank to the floor, her head bowed.
“Xyrath, King of Xy,” a male voice boomed, and all the ladies rose and curtseyed low, their heads down.
Xyrath bounded in with a smile, followed by Lord Tarwain. Her love was armored in dark leathers, sword and dagger at his side, with brand new, red leather gloves tucked into his belt. He looked so handsome and dashing…and ready for battle they could not afford.
Satia clenched her jaw and made as if to rise to greet her husband,
“No, no, my love,” Xyrath protested. “I pray you, be seated. How fare you this day?”
Satia sank back down on her chair. “Well, my love,” she said. “Although I have had to instruct the Royal Cook to prepare only the plainest of foods for our future meals.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I fear I can’t tolerate strong smells or rich foods.”
“Oh,” Xyrath looked taken aback, then nodded. “Of course, of course, anything for the babe. Your every wish will be my command.”
Tarwain was glancing around the room. When he spotted his daughter, to Satia’s surprise, he frowned. Odd, that. She’d need to learn more about that tension.
“Ladies, I must speak with my Queen about things not fit for your gentle ears,” The King turned his charming smile on them all. “Leave us, if you would.”
The ladies returned his smile, although a few were not warm, Halithe included. Also interesting, and something Satia noted for the future. The King opened his arms wide and pretended to herd the chicks as the ladies picked up their various projects and scattered to the door, giggling.
Her Bondmaidens stayed. Both men took little notice, since that custom had been well-established years earlier.
The King returned to Satia’s side, scowling. “Tarwain has word of the old baronies. They defy me!” He started to pace, agitated.
Satia looked at Tarwain who stood rock still, a scroll in his hands. “Majesty,” he bowed his head. “I was attempting to review the situation with the King.”
Xyrath prowled back and forth, scowling.
“Most of the baronies are neutral,” Tarwain continued. “Athelbryght is under the control of one who bears the birthmark of the Chosen, of course. But the Black Hills are in open rebellion and—”
“War!” Xyrath boomed. “I will don the traditional red gloves of war. We must teach these upstarts to respect our sovereignty. If they do not respect our commands, they will respect our blades.”
Tarwain’s face was shuttered; this had obviously been a point of contention. Satia knew better than to argue reality with Xyrath. “Your Majesty is right, of course.”
“You agree?” Xyrath threw Tarwain a triumphant look. “We can march—”
Tarwain opened his mouth but Satia jumped in before he could say a word. “Beloved, were you to march, you would not be here for the birth,” she put her hand on her stomach. “I so desire your presence at the birth of your heir.”
“Oh, yes,” Xyrath knelt next to her, his agitation fading. He took her hand in his. “It will be such a celebration,” he said. “I’d even a mind to plan it. But the baronies—”
“War might force you to neglect your projects,” Satia put a worried tone into her voice.
“Oh,” Xyrath said. “True.”
