Kien glanced around the crowded hall, taking in the hundreds of wedding guests. He did a better job keeping his face passive than Eiri could, but there was a slight furrow in his brow that said he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Perhaps another hour? There are no more speeches, it appears, but propriety demands at least staying until the king and queen leave.” The only person near to them was Syrus, but they spoke in whispered Canjiri anyway. It was a tiny rebellion, but one with a degree of petty satisfaction.
“Do we really care about propriety, though?” Eiri kept his eyes on his plate, refusing to glance to his left, where his new husband sat. Beyond him were the king and queen, with various princes and princesses past them. No courtiers sat to the right of Eiri, clearly denoting his lack of support here in Vaetreas. His lack of welcome was on display for everyone to see, and he felt it in their gaze when they looked at him. Whispers and smirks had followed him from the grand hall to the banquet, and no one had done a single thing to stop it. It was exactly what he’d expected from his new family.
Eiri repressed a shudder. Even the idea of these people being his family made his skin crawl. His mother wasn’t perfect, but at least he’d never had to worry she’d stick a knife in his back.
“Unfortunately, we do. The marriage can still be annulled at this early stage, and everything we do is being judged and weighed. Maintain your dignity and give them nothing to use against you.”
Easier said than done, when every word out of Syrus Vardor’s mouth made Eiri want to punch him.
“You’re in the palace in Vaetreas. Are you aware of that?”
Words like that.
At a warning glance from Kien, Eiri took a deep breath before he spoke, responding in Vaetrean. “I am well aware of where I am. Are you not? Would you like a map?”
Kien groaned quietly, but Syrus gave a low growl. Eiri refused to turn his head to look at him, but he imagined the man resembled a looming thundercloud right now.
“I just thought I would be sure, because you’re speaking Canjiri like you’re in a backwater tavern back on your little island.”
“Maintain your dignity,” Kien whispered in urgent Canjiri. “We are better than them. Give them nothing.”
The whispered counsel put a leash on Eiri’s immediate fury, but just barely. “I am speaking my native tongue to a fellow speaker. Were I to speak to you, I would use your language.” He couldn’t hold back a small sneer from coloring the last two words with his distaste. Vaetrean was such a crass, abrupt language.
“While you are in this country, you will speak the native language,” Syrus ordered, and Eiri’s hackles immediately went up.
“Perhaps that tone works on your soldiers, but I am not oneof them and I do not take orders from some overblown officer who thinks he’s above everyone else simply because of the family he was born into. You will not forbid me from speaking my own language and you will not give me orders.”
He’d fought to keep his voice down, but the table was quiet when he stopped speaking. The queen glared at them with blatant fury and her family’s reactions ranged from incredulous to scandalized. One prince, though, seated near the end of the table, made no effort to hide his amusement, earning him a disapproving glare from the Crown Prince.
“Is there a problem?” Queen Delia asked, her voice colder than the depths of the ocean in winter. Speaking now would only increase her ire with him, so Eiri said nothing, leaving it to Syrus to explain. Any attempt to defend himself would be met with hostility, anyway.
“No problems, mother,” Syrus gritted. “We were simply discussing the differences in etiquette between our countries.”
“Save those discussions for someplace besides your marriage feast,” she said, and it was an order, not a suggestion.
“I agree. We apologize for the disruption.”
Syrus’ apology was enough to placate her for the moment, but the look Eiri received from her warned that this wasn’t over.
“I told you not to respond,” Kien said the moment all eyes were off them.
“You heard him! He tried to forbid me from speaking our language.”
“An empty threat. He could not have stopped you. He was likely baiting you and you walked right into it. Now the royal family has one more weapon in their arsenal against you.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a marriage feast, not a war council,” Eiri muttered. It took most of his concentration to focus on keeping his expression calm and even.
“This entire arrangement is one battle in the continuingwar between our countries, and you know it. Every weakness you show, every insult you respond to, gives them more information and intelligence to use against us later.”
“I’m aware of that. I’m not stupid.” It made the whole situation even worse, knowing this farce of a marriage was not only awful, but unnecessary. Every one of the so-called “peace marriages” was. Legally, Vaetreas and Canjir had never been at war, but legalities meant nothing.
“Then act like it,” Kien ordered. “Right now, you are an unwelcome guest, but one that they must treat well, as you are married to a prince. The moment the fighting reignites, and it will, you become a political hostage.”
“That’s why you’re here.” In an instant, everything fell into place in his head. “My mother wasn’t feeling sentimental and allowing me to have some part of Canjir with me. You’re the backup plan for when it all goes wrong.”
He should have known. Eiri could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen his mother get sentimental, and all of them had centered on Akari. While he didn’t doubt her love for him, he was as much a political game piece as a son.
