After a long moment, Joseba, brave or stupid enough to be beset with solving these problems upon the best timetable, ignored the queen’s frustrations and redirected. “I apologize if my opening to this meeting was a distraction—my error. Perhaps we should pause our discussion of Pyrenee’s request and pivot to matters of succession, as that is the most pressing concern.”
Amarande swallowed, trying to keep her voice level, even as her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wingbeat in her chest, and her fingerswere pressed so tightly now into a fisted ball that the hand on the inside was losing feeling. Luca’s hold on her wrist did not dissipate. He was her tether and her partner even if this was her fight to fight.
“We will inform them I have been made regent,” Amarande said. “We have my father’s will with his wishes written in plain language, signed, and dated. They may discard me, but they can’t discard him.”
A sheen of perspiration sprouted along Joseba’s dark brow. “It is a weak argument, my queen. They will see it as a loophole and work around it.”
“Not if they want to keep Asan in power,” Amarande answered, one hand gesturing in the vague direction of Myrcell to the southwest. “He is a regent, too. If Sumira’s baby is a girl, he’ll become king. If it’s a boy, he will be a regent for the next eighteen years. And if Asan can be a regent that long, so can I.”
But Joseba was right there with her, and ready to argue. “Not true, my queen. Even if that baby is a boy, Myrcell still has stated plans to question the child’s legitimacy.” Yes, yes, they’d said as much. And they would do it. “Furthermore, part of the concern may be about the limits of your regency. It is a difficult thing to argue that you will be regent until Ferdinand comes of age, given he has already been crowned king once.”
Ferdinand pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes—more a sign of frustration than he usually allowed. “Perhaps we tell them I want more instruction. Years of training and study. Or to be married first. That would buy us time.”
Joseba shook his head. “It is still weak. It is all weak.”
Amarande bared her teeth, her own frustration surfacing yet again. “It is only weak because of arbitrary rules that are unfairly used against Ardenia.”
“The queen is right,” Luca agreed, “these rules are lopsided, arbitrary, and essentially meaningful only when the majority deems them so.”
Joseba batted at the sweat along his brow, smoothing his hair into place. “Unfair or not, they are requisite for the compact of the Sand and Sky. Which is why it is best that we ignore loopholes altogether and simply announce we are returning Ferdinand to the throne.”
“That will not work, they will question his legitimacy,” Luca answered, broaching the argument Amarande had laid before him thenight before. It was somewhat of a relief that he’d made the first cut in this battle for her. Yet Amarande hated that even her own advisors might take such a suggestion better from Luca because of his gender. “If not now, later, when it’s most convenient.”
Ferdinand leaned forward, fingers calmly laced on the table, chin tilted up just so. Aggrieved exhaustion cut crescent moons under his eyes but didn’t hide the vibrant flare of green that flashed with his next suggestion.
“What if I married Osana?”
Amarande’s mouth opened, then closed. Ready to tell him that he was too young for such nonsense. But in truth Ferdinand was just a scant year younger than her, and Osana was her age. The idea wasn’t any more ridiculous than her marrying Luca. And it was completely in line with continental culture.
Ferdinand continued, laying it out like a battle plan, not an act of love. “Osana would welcome the chance to get out from her father’s new, suffocating attentions, and the match would prevent Basilica from acting on its interests in discrediting the legitimacy Ardenia has bestowed upon me.”
“A strategic marriage could buy Ardenia protection, yes. And it would pass muster with those who don’t want joined kingdoms—so long as Zavier’s son comes of age.” Joseba’s dark eyes met Ferdinand’s. “Would Princess Osana be amenable?”
At this, a little color rose in Ferdinand’s cheeks, but he didn’t shirk or acknowledge his emotions in any real way. “Yes, I believe she would.”
“But her fatherwould not,” Amarande replied as gently as she could. “Zavier believes Ferdinand to be a traitor to Geneva even more so than I am, that he supports the ruler who he holds responsible for his other daughter’s death”—here she nodded to Luca—“and that Osana’s injury in the battle at the Hand was his fault.”
Ferdinand’s gaze dropped. “This is true. He believes it all.”
“Not to mention,” Luca added, “Zavier could be in league with Geneva. If he thinks you to be a traitor, Ferdinand, then we can infer he supports her actions in private.”
“That’s something Osana assumes, too, and is trying to confirm for us,” Ferdinand answered. “She’s putting her watcher training to use for us in the Aragonesti.”
Amarande nodded to her brother and turned to the table at large. “Such information could be very valuable to both Torrence and Ardenia. But what of Geneva? Have we received word yet from Ula and Urtzi?”
All shook their heads.
“And anything from the scouts in Torrence?”
All shook their heads.
“At our borders?”
All shook their heads.
“My queen,” Ferdinand said after a time, “I would like another chance to hunt Geneva. I understand this is Ula and Urtzi’s mission, but I am disappointed by my performance the first time. I can be the one to deliver the vials to the Bellringe, then use that as cover to travel to the Port of Pyrenee and gain information from those who sail the Divide about Alasne’s ship—sightings, trades, any other useful information. I can report what I find to you at the conclave at the Bellringe.”
It was a good plan—useful and resourceful. And if anything, it could supplement what they learned from Ula and Urtzi, though their continued silence worried Amarande greatly.
