“We owe it to our people, and to the future, to rise beyond the past.” Rather than address Menon, Amarande appealed to the room at large. To the royalty, councilors, confidants, and soldiers. “What we must discuss now is succession. Ardenia and Torrence are sorted. Pyrenee, Basilica, and Myrcell need immediate attention. Which, Councilor Menon, is the point of this meeting.”
“And, as a matter of special interest, I would like to discuss succession of Myrcell first.” This from Dowager Queen Sumira, seated to Amarande’s left. She was young and pretty, all smooth tawny skin and cascading black curls. Sumira had not been married to King Akil for long, but she was noble, intelligent, and had outlasted him even though he had been prepared to wed Amarande if his contract had been accepted by Ardenia’s Royal Council after Sendoa’s death.
“Your Highness,” the single surviving Myrcellian councilor piped in over her shoulder, “with all due respect, we should table this discussion—these measures cannot be examined fully here, hundreds of miles from the Miragua and the family scrolls located there.”
Sumira smiled at this man like the shark on Myrcell’s sigil. “I amaware of these difficulties, Calan. However, what you are not aware of is that there is a less contentious solution right before your eyes.”
The man tilted his chin, unsure if he was following her line of thought.
In answer, Sumira stood. “Calan, there is a reason I did not ingest the wine in Basilica.” Here, she turned in profile, and swept a hand across the skirt of her dress, pressing the drape of the green fabric taut against the swell of her belly. “I am pregnant with King Akil’s heir.”
These were high-born people and trained fighters with reflexes and wherewithal that kept them alive—and, thus, not a soul gasped at the shocking news. Instead, the entire room was still as stone.
Sumira smiled further. The resounding silence was all the reaction she wanted.
“Here, before our sister and brother protectors of the Sand and Sky, I request immediate regency control of Myrcell in the name of King Akil’s child.”
Amarande and Luca barely had to exchange a glance before Luca nodded softly to Sumira. “First, my sincerest congratulations, Your Highness. This is wonderful news. Of course, Torrence supports this request.”
“As does Ardenia—congratulations. We would also support any amendment needed to Myrcell’s laws of succession to ensure this babe rule no matter their sex.” Amarande made it a point to meet both Calan and Pyrenee’s Menon in the eye before sweeping an enthusiastic nod toward the dowager queen. “Excellent. One less succession to untangle—”
“Now, wait, if I may,” interjected Calan, daring not only to interrupt but to raise an outstretched hand as if physically halting the queen’s words. “I must concede that while the Sand and Sky may accept Her Highness’s request for regency, the Kingdom of Myrcell may… not.”
The councilor did not dare look directly at Sumira, nor at Amarande. Rather, his stricken gaze landed on Luca, almost as if he would find sympathy there—he didn’t.
When would these men learn?
Instead Calan was met with a hardening of Luca’s handsome features, his body visibly stiffening as if he were about to enter a fight.
“On what grounds, Councilor Calan?” Luca asked, the sweetness in his disposition veering toward a sharp edge. “The Dowager Queen Sumira has made a request well within her rights in the eyes of the rest of the Sand and Sky; what objection might the Kingdom of Myrcell have to a regency agreement elevating a mother until her child comes of age? If it’s another situation like we saw previously with Inés, surelyyourdowager queen would not object to additional safety measures ensuring the proper passage of power?” Luca made it a point to cross looks with Sumira, who nodded accordingly.
Councilor Calan tugged at his collar and straightened in his seat. After all that adjustment, he placed his folded hands upon the table and trained his gaze exclusively on his own knuckles while getting the next words out. “While this joyous news would certainly straighten out the Myrcellian line of succession, please understand that the kingdom reserves the right to confirm this pregnancy.”
Amarande frowned. “While it is likely unnecessary because I’m certain Her Highness has a fine grasp of her body’s nature, Dowager Queen Sumira, if you would like the council of Medikua Aritza before your departure, that can be arranged.”
Sumira’s lips dropped open for what was likely to be a polite refusal of such an offer, but then Councilor Calan pointedly cleared his throat—a favorite preamble of many of the councilors, it seemed, no matter the kingdom they served.
“While that is a generous suggestion, Your Highness,” Calan started, his straw man body going rigid beneath his dense green robes as if bracing for a blow, “it is imperative that the Miragua’s resident medikua investigate and confirm that this progeny is, in fact, the continuation of King Akil’s family line.”
Amarande inhaled sharply. Of course, Calan readied for a blow—he knew every woman in the room wanted to punch him. It was all Amarande could do not to draw the knife from her boot and fling it at this man. “Councilor, are you insinuating that your resident medikua has the ability to see both into the past and into the marriage bed? How incredibly insulting that you would not believe the dowager queen at herwordand instead imply that she is both lying and an adulteress.”
Calan did not respond to this. Instead, he returned to staring athis hands in such a way that Amarande nearly believed he was not hearing her at all. This would not do.
“All of you were ensconced in the Aragonesti that night, watching your friends and loved ones die by poison or the sword. By all accounts, it was horrific and terrifying.” As cruel as a man like Domingu could have dreamed. “Imagine watching the light go out in your husband’s eyes as his child grows within you. Imagine having to bow to the woman who killed him.” Her eyes speared Calan. “Now imagine havingthe gallto question a woman who has been through all that and suggest that she does not have her late husband’s nor her kingdom’s best interests at heart.”
The room sat in silence.
Good.
Amarande continued, catching every eye brave enough to watch the frustration build beneath her skin.
“The fact that anyone would question the word of this widow in such a foul way is beyond me.” Her gaze returned, unflinching, to Calan. “But as the Warrior King’s daughter, I understand a thing or two about Ardenia’s position as protector of the realm. Given that there are likely to be more questionable objections to perfectly reasonable matters of succession, and, apparently from the royal advisors of multiple kingdoms whena noblewomanis involved,” here, she speared Menon in her sights because that man deserved it, “I would suggest Ardenian support for Myrcell, Basilica, and Pyrenee as they discuss and certify succession from their kingdom seats.”
Menon spoke first, beating Calan to the punch, his opinion clear in the unmasked frustration in his tone. “Are you suggestingoccupation,Queen Amarande?”
That building frustration spiked, hot and wild in her veins as she gritted her teeth.
Was he even listening? Or did he simply want to pick a fight?
