“We are holding that line. Our war machines are a match when it comes to the Legion’s. Thevasilyetaround Bellingham remains in our control.”
Emperor Vanya Sa’Liandel, of the House of Sa’Liandel, still ruled Solaria, but his claim to the Imperial throne was tenuous at best despite the Dawn Star’s blessing. The Conclave of the Houses had ended with the Imperial palace burned to the ground and avasilyetseceding from Solaria. The emperor refused to accept the secession, and the fighting along that border was particularly intense, even now. Still, holding thatvasilyetwas necessary to divide and conquer. Whatever support Kote deemed the southern fighting required, Eimarille would approve it.
The sound of the knob turning had Eimarille looking over at the gilded door as it opened. A familiar and well-loved figure stepped into the room, carrying Eimarille’s whole world in her arms. Terilyn smiled at Eimarille as she crossed the room, Lisandro propped on one hip despite Eimarille’s five-year-old son being more than capable of walking. Her Blade spoiled him so, and Eimarille could not fault her lover’s habits in that regard. If she had her way, she’d give her son the world.
“Mama!” Lisandro said excitedly, wriggling in Terilyn’s arms. She bent to set him down on the floor, and the boy immediately ran to her. “Terishka said you are going to a ball. I want to come.”
Eimarille reached for her son, scooping him up into her lap with practiced ease. He was dressed in the soft sleeping gown and slippers that he wore when playing in the nursery before bed. She smoothed back his blond hair before kissing his forehead. “My darling, I would love to have you escort me, but you know your bedtime is soon.”
He pouted at her but giggled when she tickled his stomach. His bright laughter was a sound she always wanted to hear, and Eimarille wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Lisandro had always been hers more than he’d ever been Wesley’s. She’d raised him as a Rourke rather than an Iverson, whispering about the world she was going to give him. Despite Wesley being dead, Lisandro never asked for his father, not how he asked for Terilyn when the Blade was absent from his life.
Eimarille hadn’t been willing to risk leaving him behind in New Haven, not with the ongoing war. Daijal’s capital might be far from the front lines, but it had an ocean to think of. The Daijal navy had patrols in the Gulf of Helia, aided by Urovan submersibles. For now, their presence was for defensive purposes only.
Eimarille rested her chin on Lisandro’s head, smiling at Terilyn as the other woman sat beside her on the sofa. Terilyn wore a ball gown similar to Eimarille’s, but the skirt had been tailored with the ability to be discarded with a firm tug at several lace points. Eimarille knew that other design changes had been incorporated to make it easier for Terilyn to reach the wealth of weapons hidden beneath her clothes that she never went without.
Her long black hair was pinned back and twisted into a bun, the metal hair sticks piercing it decorated with diamonds and the hidden blades sharp enough to slit a throat. Eimarille had gifted them to her during the new year festivities, and Terilyn had bloodied them a dozen times over since then.
“Lady Beltre is asking after you. I informed her you were delayed but would be out shortly,” Terilyn said.
“We’re finished here for the moment,” Eimarille said.
Kote put his cap back on. “I can escort you both to the ballroom.”
“The nursemaid is waiting outside to take Lisandro back to the nursery,” Terilyn said.
Of course, her son protested that, begging to join her. Eimarille hushed his pleading with a touch of her fingers to his cheek and a gentle tsking of her tongue. “None of that now, my darling boy. A prince doesn’t beg.”
Lisandro pouted but allowed her to hold him close as she stood. “Yes, Mama.”
She carried him to the door, which Terilyn opened for her. The nursemaid out in the hall dipped into a deep curtsy, head bowed. “I’ll take the prince, Your Royal Majesty.”
Eimarille handed her son over to the nursemaid, glancing at the pair of guards who must have escorted Terilyn to the receiving room. From a distance, she could hear the muffled music from the live orchestra quartet and the faint murmur that signified many voices. The ball tonight was one of the first of the season and not to be missed with Eimarille in attendance. That meant many people she would never trust being within reach of her son, but the guards watching over Lisandro had come with her from Daijal. Their loyalty wasn’t in doubt—it was everyone else’s she would always worry about.
“We’ll keep watch, Your Royal Majesty,” the lieutenant assured her after snapping off a salute.
“See that you do,” Eimarille said.
She watched them leave with her son, never turning away until they were out of sight. Terilyn brushed her hand against Eimarille’s, her fingers cool. “He’ll have a Blade with him tonight.”
Eimarille grasped Terilyn’s fingers and lifted her hand, brushing a kiss over scarred knuckles before letting go. “Thank you, my darling.”
She turned toward Kote, who bowed and gestured for her to go ahead of him. “After you, Your Royal Majesty.”
Eimarille reached up to adjust the weight of her crown one last time before walking past him toward the revelry happening elsewhere in the estate. Terilyn settled to her right and one step behind while Kote took up position on her left. The royal guards on duty in this wing all snapped to attention as she passed, making her way to the staircase that led to the main foyer and hallway.
Guests mingled in that space, their jewelry glittering beneath the gas lamp light from the grand chandelier. The Lord and Lady Beltre waited in the foyer, chatting with a handful of guests. Their chamberlain saw her first, attention riveted on the stairs. He immediately came to attention, voice rising over the chatter with a clear and deep projection. “Announcing the arrival of Her Royal Majesty Queen Eimarille Rourke.”
The crowd shifted, pulling back. Heads turned to catch a glimpse of Eimarille as she descended. Men bowed, women curtsied, as was expected of them. She extended her hand to Lady Ximena Beltre, who took it and curtsied deeply. “It is our greatest honor to have you as our guest, Your Royal Majesty.”
“A pleasure as always to be back in Ashion,” Eimarille said with a winning smile.
Ximena straightened, the corners of her brown eyes creasing slightly when she smiled. She was a little older than Eimarille, dressed in a gown that was at least two seasons behind in fashion, though the rest of the guests seemed to have followed their lady’s lead rather than Eimarille’s. The gold, diamond, and pearl tiara she wore shone against the dark chestnut of her curled updo. She looked radiant but couldn’t hope to outshine Eimarille.
Her husband, Felipe, was five years her senior and had married into her bloodline. Tonight, he wore a fashionable evening suit, shined black shoes, and white gloves. His cravat was neatly done, the pale peach color a match to his wife’s ball gown. Felipe had been gone from the city and only just arrived in time for the ball. Ximena had offered her sincere apologies yesterday for his absence, but he was here now and playing a game Eimarille was a master at.
“You grace us with your presence, my queen,” Felipe said.
Eimarille smiled at the praise before gesturing at the two with her. “My companions for the evening, the Lady Terilyn and our guest of honor, High General Kote Akina.”
