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“She did it before you were born. My guess is either she didn’t read what she was signing away, or she didn’t think she was ever going to have a child.”
“Seems like a stupid risk to take,” Aledwen muttered, trying to ignore
the stab of hurt lodging itself in her heart.
“Very much so. There’s no explanation of it.”
“But why would your High Lord even want a fae princess’ powers? They should be useless to him.”
“They are. But I think it’s a long run game for him. There’s a clause in the treaty that says marrying or mating with an elf will return the powers.”
“So basically, he was using the treaty to force a marriage alliance. But what does he have to gain from that?” She really was struggling to work it out. There wasn’t a history of either friendship or animosity between their peoples, so it made no sense for this to be coming up now.
“It sounds like it. And I really wish I knew. Maybe he was hoping for a weak princess he could mold to do his bidding? You’re not exactly magically weak.”
“I think you’ll find I’m magically nothing,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but if your mother hadn’t signed the treaty, you would be.”
“What can I do about it?” She hoped he had some kind of answer. And that it would help if she mixed it with the odd magic bursts in the throne room earlier. So far, no one had really cottoned on that she had none. Or maybe no one mentioned it because they thought it was weak, and she’d be funny about them commenting on it.
No matter the reason, it wasn’t widely publicised that she had no powers.
“Short of finding an elf to mate or marry, I doubt there is anything.”
An uneasy look crossed Fane’s face, and he looked away quickly. Suspicious, but she’d let him have it for now. Especially as he’d been helpful in other ways already.
“What did my mother get from the treaty in return?” she asked instead of prodding more. Treaty seemed like too nice a word for something so restrictive, but Aledwen let that one slide. Here and now wasn’t the right time to bring it up.
“Aledwen.” Her mother’s voice cut through the conversation. Speak of the devil, and she will come. Always seemed to be the way. Fane looked at her before shrugging and letting her go, slipping back into the crowds without anyone really noticing. Aledwen wished she could do the same. Anything to avoid whatever talk her mother was about to give her.
“Your majesty,” she said formally, curtsying politely.
“You were talking to the elf.” The look of disdain on her face made her feelings plain. Aledwen chose to ignore that.
“Yes, we had an interesting discussion about the treaty he’s presenting,” she responded, watching her mother’s face closely to see how she reacted. Unfortunately, she stayed as passive as ever. Aledwen just had to hope the expression wasn’t one she’d inherit.
“How so?”
“Part of it involved a marriage.”
“Good, good. So I’m signing it tonight?”
“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it, but even so, she couldn’t regret using such a strong tone.
“Excuse me?” The Queen blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.
“You can’t sign it.”
“Why ever not?”
“It gives me away and forces me to marry,” Aledwen said, just about as calmly as she could manage, but probably not managing.
“It does what?” She was surprised to hear Drey’s voice, but not the cool, controlled anger in his voice. That was very much expected. And very much welcomed. Saying no to her mother alone was becoming nerve wracking, Drey would give her the extra confidence to carry it on.
Not that she turned around to look at him. She didn’t really need to, she could sense his presence near her, further convincing her that there was something between them.
“There’s a treaty that if signed, will force me to marry the elvish High Lord,” she explained calmly, and could have sworn she heard crackling behind her. Maybe Drey was even sparking. That wouldn’t be good. She was wearing a lot of flammable material, as were many of the other fae in the room.
