RE: Monarch

It was once common for my mother to address the nobles directly. She’d appeal to them often on social matters, encourage charitable giving, and promote nobles and commoners alike who worked on philanthropic causes or projects that aided the kingdom at large.

Where my father brought fire and brimstone, my mother brought kindness and light. And after her passing, there was nothing but flames. In her twilight years—which she was on the cusp of now—her addresses became less frequent. And during her last address, she’d broken under the pressure. Frozen. And had to be escorted away from the whispering public. Her health devolved quickly after that, her kindness smudged out with pain, all light extinguished.

Having nursed it for what felt like an age, I downed the remains of my third and final glass of wine for the evening. Even if this vintage was barely more than water, my tolerance was a shadow of its former self. And the idea of returning to former habits now that I was home haunted the dark reaches of my mind. Thoth wouldn’t kick back and relax in my stead. Even now, she was gathering new allies, allies absent from the invasion the first time, clearly intending to shore up any weakness in her ranks now that the infernals were, at least for the moment, beyond her grasp.

So instead of imbibing further, I drank in the moment instead. The image of the nobles leaning forward, intent on hearing every word. My father seated behind her, one leg crossed over the other, chin casually rested on his ring-adorned fist.

Queen Elaria scanned the crowd, making eye contact with everyone she could. She spoke with them silently, acknowledging their existence, reinforcing that their presence was not only noticed but welcome. From a lesser speaker, this might have drawn muttering and lost the attention of the crowd, but the gravitas of her presence fixed them in place.

Her voice rang out as she clasped the brooch at her throat. “This is a time of great significance for Silodan. A time of transformation. But grand alterations are never so simple. It is written on your faces. Excitement, curiosity, but also confusion and fear. You have endured much. For that is the way of Silodan. We may quibble, and bicker, and come to odds, but when the moment that would break others comes, we endure.” She paused then, and more than a few nobles in the crowd nodded, murmurs of agreement rising to meet her. Her gaze landed on me.

“The crown prince serves as a testament to this.” She extended a hand towards me, her eyes crinkling kindly. I stood, made my way around several tables and mounted the dais, taking the stairs two at a time and smoothly slid into place beside her. “He was little more than a child. Clumsy. Inexperienced.”

She winked at me. “And had only just begun insisting that he could read his own books.”

We both knew damn well I’d done no such thing. But I made the requisite groan and eye-roll, and drew the laughter she clearly intended.

“And that child faced an enemy greater than any we have ever known.” Her voice was icy, slicing with the precision of a surgeon through the levity she’d created .

The crowd fell quiet.

“Many of you have already heard rumors of the enemy we face. An arch-mage capable of creating wide-scale disasters and ending lives with a snap of her fingers. But more than that, a revolutionary. One with enough power, influence, and terror to bend countless others to their will. This force of nature attacked my husband’s caravan. Many good men died that day. And one innocent child faced a choice. Die, or endure.”

So that’s where this is going.

Queen Elaria reached over and squeezed my bicep affectionately. “And his answer shines clear as day. Prince Cairn endured. Transformed. Changed. He lured the arch-mage into the Everwood, and once he escaped her clutches, set out on a quest to strengthen not only himself, but bolster our defenses. He started by solidifying an alliance with the infernals. An emissary who aided this quest is here with us today.” My mother extended a hand again, just as she had to summon me.

Maya rose. To anyone else, she would look like the picture of propriety. But all the training in the world couldn’t hide the way her eyes widened in terror as she crested the steps and took her place across from me.

My mother gave her subtle smile of apology, and Maya returned a minute nod. Then the queen continued her address. “A son of Whitefall and daughter of the enclave. They are both young. Yet they have accomplished more in their lifetimes than most. They have faced the adversary and—rather than crumble—endured. Transformed. And the fruit of their bravery is demonstrated before you today. So I proffer a question. If a child can stand against the darkest this world offers… are you still afraid?”

There was a swelling uproar as many of the crowd stood to their feet, in defiance of the adversary they’d only heard whispers of before this moment. I suppressed a frown. It was clear what she was trying to do. Tether my identity to Whitefall itself as an example, simultaneously welcoming me back into the fold and encouraging them to follow suit. It was a solid speech, but considering my mother’s extensive talent, it didn’t rank highly. She spoke most effectively when her words were spontaneous, prodigiously and painstakingly drawn from the heart. This by comparison felt rote. Practiced. Had I recalled incorrectly, allowed the truth of matters to be cast in the hue of pained nostalgia? Or was there something else in the mix, something I wasn’t seeing?

Vibrating footsteps stirred me from my reverie. The Queen breathed out a small sigh as King Gil approached the front, and the overhead mana-lamps focused on him.

He scanned the room. “In light of this threat, we will shore up our defenses. Recruiting continues en masse. Every man, woman and child of age who has not yet learned to wield a sword will learn to do so. Sooner, rather than later. If you lack the resources for training, we will provide those resources for you.” He paused, glaring out at no one in particular. “And as with any time of war, any infighting will be punished appropriately. As treason.”

And with as much brevity as he’d entered, the king turned and walked away.

My mother cleared her throat, the irritation she must have felt at the intrusion entirely absent from her expression. “That being said, this is a time of celebration. A homecoming long overdue. As most of you are well into your drink, I believe some dancing is in order.”

On cue, the musicians played, the jaunty music from before replaced with a complex waltz. Servants lifted the tables, careful not to disturb the contents, and moved them to the side in a coordinated effort; within seconds the floor was empty. My desire to roll my eyes and groan was entirely organic this time. The brief dance with my mother would be a delight—with that I held no quarrel—but considering the speech she just gave, I would be marauded from all sides by any individual in a dress who possessed even the slightest flicker of ambition.

But when I offered my hand, Queen Elaria hesitated, then she stepped backwards, leaving only Maya and I at the forefront.

My eyes widened, my arm still extended. “Oh. Uh—”

Maya’s thin smile cut like a dagger as she curtsied low, maintaining her stately aspect while making sure I knew exactly how she felt on the matter. “Would you do me the honor of this dance, my liege?”

Elder gods she’s angry.

“Naturally.”

I took Maya’s arm and led her down the steps. There were only a few seconds before we reached the center of the floor.

“And here I thought you’d be giving me space,” Maya murmured. Her elbow ground into my side like she was trying to dig a hole.

I whispered. “On Elphion, I didn’t put her up to that. This is a symbolic gesture, nothing more.”

“And when was the last time a nonhuman led a dance at a noble event?”

“In Whitefall? This… is probably the first.”

I suspected it wasn’t just a symbolic gesture. My mother was uncannily insightful, and I knew she’d observed us enough during the feast to realize there was a small mountain of unspoken history. Realistically, this probably served a dual purpose, creating an image of unity with our new allies, and allowing her to carry out her motherly duty of poking at something interesting until she got a reaction.

“Great. No pressure on me, then.” Maya’s grip tightened. Her mouth was set, and she was actively fighting not to look around. In that moment, she reminded me of another girl, at another dance, who was just as scared, if not more.

So I tried what worked then. “It’s no big deal. We’ll shimmy around a bit, avoid stepping on each other’s toes, and by morning, they’ll all be too hungover to remember how bad we were.”

Maya sniffed. “You might be out of practice, but I am completely prepared.”

“They taught you?” I blurted.

Maya’s eyes darkened. “Far more adequately than the last time I was press-ganged into a dance.”

I scoffed. “We were being hunted.”

“Details.”

We parted at the center, turned, then faced each other. Despite whatever nerves she was feeling, Maya’s expression was stone cold neutral. I reviewed our options. A waltz only suited so many dances, but there were a few that appeared complex while being simple in execution.

But before I could pick one, Maya chose for me. She pressed her gloved hand against my chest.

And pushed.

Our spectators had a mixed reaction. Some ooh’d, while others could only stare in disbelief. For good reason. There was only one dance that started that way. The Noble’s Guile, inspired by the tale of Tristan and Elouise. It was also infamous for being one of the most—if not the most—flashy and technically demanding dances in polite society, equally demanding on both partners who traded the leading multiple times within just a few moments.

No matter how drunk they were, no one watching would forget it.

It was bold, brilliant, and entirely too brash, requiring a level of hubris that Lillian—as much as I loved her—would never dream of.

“Are you mad?” I mouthed.

“Are you afraid?” she mouthed back.

I was. Of so very many things.

But not of this. While I’d routinely dodged pretty much anything to do with combat, the rest of my early education and training were extensive. I’d learned the steps of the Noble’s Guile not long after I’d learned to walk. And when I found a partner capable of Elouise’s part, regardless of station or age, I pestered them as often as I could. Because there really was nothing else like it.

We exchanged bows. And began.

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