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"No, he is with your Uncle and the Commander going over their plan and looking for flaws," Erhaird answered. "The Prince has been back about two hours."
Accepting the answer, I ate my meal quietly. When I finished, I sat on the sofa browsing the media streams of Praldia and Cyra. A week after the executions, Praldians were still discussing the event like it was yesterday, filling up the broadcasting opinion windows with outrage at the contents of the box and Blanche Fanchon's plans. However, as soon as anyone mentioned the box, the words were deleted before they reached the panels.
After less than a minute of continuous treachery talk, the Broadcasters shut down the open-air channels and diverted the news to discussions about the new mine set to open in Dåligalandar.
Swiping through to find backstories explaining what exactly they were mining for, I couldn't find the information. Dåligalandar had been given up as barren of even Crystalstar before I came of age.
"Something wrong, Princess?" Erhaird lifted a brow but didn't take his eyes from his own panels.
"What are they mining in Dåligalandar?"
"That has not been released."
"But the Prince would need to have approved the mine?"
"Of course, Princess."
"So, he must know what's being mined."
"Of course."
"Do you know?"
Erhaird just looked at me over his panel.
"Of course, you do. Are you going to tell me?"
Erhaird returned his full attention to his panel.
"I'm his companion!"
"Then you should ask your companion," Erhaird murmured behind his panel and swiped to another story.
"The Queen's been busy," Clovis tried to distract me. "New fashion line, new embellisher line, new hairstyle to add to it."
Wiping my palm across my panel to bring up the menu screen, I chose the Cyran Skvaller feeds. My screen filled with captures and feeds of the Cyran queen exhibiting astonishing dresses and her face painted so heavily with embellisher, I nearly didn't recognize her.
The beautiful broad-shouldered Queen paraded around in revealing frou-frou dresses that only added more bulk to an already solid frame. They definitely required extra standing space for the area the dress took up around her. In addition, her usually long golden hair was cut so short that without her breasts nearly on show, she may have been mistaken for a Cyran soldier.
The screen slid through images and feeds of the general public. The young socialites imitating the Queen's new look filled the screen along with audio captures of high-pitched adoration for their beautiful Queen. Erhaird started laughing, and Clovis joined in. Appraising them, I wasn't sure what was so funny.
"All those silly girls cutting off their hair to look like the queen," Clovis's shoulders shook with laughter. "She must be throwing objects around her room like a madwoman."
"I am sorry, Princess, we should explain," Erhaird recovered and put his panel aside. "The Queen loved her hair; she never cut it, and she liked the females at court to keep their hair long also. She feels that the long hair softens a female's appearance."
"Secondly, it enables her to drag any woman who annoys her across the room by her hair should she choose," Clovis cut in. "If they all cut their hair, she will have to drag them by their throats, which prevents them screaming."
Eye's opening wide, I choked. "I sent Padget to live with a sadisten!"
Jumping off the lounge, Jervaise knelt beside mine. Taking my hand, he engulfed it in his. "You saved her life and gave the Prince a way to still look just. However, he did extract certain promises from his mother with regards to Padget's care."
"And one from his father. That one is the reason for the current hairstyle," Clovis chuckled.
"If the Queen were to break her promises with regards to Padget's care," Jervaise explained, "then King Saboa would extract a payment of brutnalöfte on his behalf."
Brutnalöfte was a law in Cyra. If you broke a promise you made, then the injured party could extract physical payment of deemed equal value. Some Cyran's lost their heads in brutnalöfte, literally. "The king cut the Queen's hair off?"
"The queen dragged Padget around by hers," Jervaise shrugged. "King Saboa felt the punishment fit the crime. He ordered the Queen’s Elite to hold her down while the Royal Guard Barberare shaved her hair off. The king kept her golden locks and has them hanging in his private throne room just to further humiliate the Queen." Sitting back on his haunches, Jervaise relinquished my hand.
