Slowly, the guests strode to the seats. If there was any confusion over who went where, no one showed it.
“You are to sit directly across from him,” Nina whispered. “We will sit beside you.”
Sol felt like a pawn. Like a measly pawn on a chessboard, the kind she and Lora would play with when she was a child. Cheap and always missing pieces, like she lacked everything to make this meeting worth it.
What did she have to offer these people? Was she truly to sit and stuff her face with roasted duck, laugh, and chat about… politics?
Politics she knew nothing about.
It has always been a burden we carry—our bloodline is cursed.
She thought back to the note, folded and worn in her satchel.
Right.
Right.
Sol stepped forward, not breaking Semmena’s stare as she placed her hand on the back of the mahogany chair.
“What an honor to share a meal with a Yarrow,” Semmena said, tapping his chalice. His eyes shone. “I can already feel Rimemere humming with happiness at the matron bloodline being here once again.”
Nervous laughs fluttered through the room as people sat.
Sol glanced to her right, where Nina bowed her head slightly in encouragement, Poppy and Sonia settling into the chairs beside her.
She glanced left, to Sawyer and Alix. Then back at Semmena. Who amongst these people were her allies?
Sol might not know much about royal politics, but she knew people.
So, she pulled out her chair and sat.
Immediately, her Court did as well, followed by the Ladies of Niome and the fur-clad Romalia couple. At Alix’s other side, two men gave her courteous nods as they sat, both dressed in extravagant beige tunics.
Nine guests remained standing. Six sat with her.
She supposed it could have been worse.
Semmena gave her a slow, knowing smile as he slid into his own seat, everyone else following suit. “A toast. To the Yarrow reign.” His Court and his people grabbed their chalices. Slowly, she met the gaze of each of her own people around her table. Her mother’s people.
Her bloodline’s people.
She didn't know how to convey what she felt, not with her gaze alone. But she tried. She met Poppy’s and Sonia’s curious eyes, the couple beside them, and the men next to Alix. She tried saying she was sorry this was what they had—but was going to fight for them.
Sol raised her chalice.
And so did they.
Eighteen
CHAINED TO DESTINY
THE DINNER WASas uncomfortable as she expected. Besides casual conversations, everyone spent most of the time sizing the others up. When Alix said it was better for her to see the political pains firsthand while on the road, he meant it.
The Ladies of Niome chatted with Nina and Sawyer effortlessly, and Sol enjoyed listening to the adventures of their younger selves. The Southern nobles attended Rimemere Wielder Academy during the final year of their studies, to be taught with ancient texts only the castle libraries held. Rimemere was the only place in the South with temples, so they used that final year of studies to dedicate themselves to their gods.
According to Sawyer, regular offerings to the gods were generally better, but as long as it was done at least once a year, the Wielder would remain with their magic.
“And if no offerings are made?” Sol asked in between bites of an overly salted roast. “What happens then?”
