Her father never trusted women, never confided in them. Melia had supposed that Ferisa was just a messenger, but after the attack the previous night, it was clear she was much more. Yet, she had never mentioned it, never warned Melia.
“What is the plan, after tonight?” she asked.
Her father’s gaze burned her as if she were a child who had spoken out of turn.
“I thought…I could help if I knew more,” she stammered.
“It’s too complicated for you, Melia,” he said, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile that looked like a threat. “I don’t want you to know unnecessary details, as they would only put you in danger.”
It might have been caution, but it sounded condescending. She was not some stupid little maid who would blurt out everything to the wrong pair of ears. She’d kept her mouth shut for months, revealing nothing. She deserved trust and respect. But she’d never gather the courage to tell her father that.
“What’s going to happen to the royal family if the wedding goes wrong?” she asked instead. Her reason was whispering to her that nothing would happen, this was their territory, they were surrounded by their own guard, by their own faithful people. And yet, her father standing with that smile on his lips was enough to shatter any feeling of safety. “Will there be conflict? Surely, the Seragians are not going to be happy.”
“Why do you suddenly worry about the royal family?” her father asked, a glint of suspicion in his eyes. “The king is reckless. He ignores all the sound advice he gets from his guard, so sure of his subjects’ love for him. And Prince Amril, well…he’s a troublemaker, isn’t he?”
Was there a tinge of excitement in his voice? Anticipation?Melia had no love for either the king or Amril; they were both odious, unrestrained, arrogant men. It wouldn’t be the first time her father hid the truth from her, and yet his words echoed with so much darkness and chaos that Melia was unable to see her way forward.
“And the others?” she asked.
Her father misinterpreted the fear on her face. “I will protect you,” he said. “You will be safe.”
His promise was empty, though. There was no safety for anyone in Abia.
• • •
Melia struggled tokeep her face blank when she entered the king’s audience chamber later that morning, walking beside her father. Maps of various parts of the world adorned the walls, displaying exotic flowers and wild animals. Ceremonial weapons and armor stood like mute guards around the room, and precious gifts—jade vases, ivory sculptures, illuminated manuscripts bound between bejeweled plates—sparkled in the sunshine. A sense of calm luxury, of self-assured power, permeated the air.
The whole court was there: the king with his retinue, the queen and her ladies, noblemen and diplomats who’d arrived for the wedding. A lump of bitterness blocked Melia’s throat. Despite the turmoil of the previous night, despite the imminent arrival of the Seragian delegation, the king and court still made time to welcome Roderi of Elmar. It was a slap in the face to see this display of goodwill towards her father after they’d been ignoring Melia for months.
Roderi of Elmar, always quick to take offense, scanned the room with his dark eyes. Trained to notice the slightest flicker of discontent, Melia watched him with apprehension. Yet, allshe could discern was satisfaction. After condemning everybody in Syr to years of austerity, after making Melia feel guilty for adjusting her gowns to the court fashion, her father seemed to enjoy this opulence. He rolled back his shoulders, stood up a bit straighter, his black figure in stark contrast with the colorful room, but his charcoal silk as fine as any fabric the courtiers wore. It dawned on Melia that his choice of color wasn’t solely the expression of grief and mourning. She’d learned a thing or two about colors from Queen Orsiana. Black was elegant, black stood out at court.
“The Defender of the Kingdom, the Hero of Elmar,” the king called. “Welcome, Roderi. It’s been too long.”
Melia winced.
They met in the middle of the room: the tall, golden-haired sovereign, still handsome, but his large frame turning heavy with age; and the Black Lord, half a head shorter, his figure lean, his dun, pinched face a challenge to the king’s radiance.
Roderi of Elmar had never seen himself as a hero because he wasn’t one. He was the lord of the borderlands plagued by a three-hundred-year-old rivalry. The war wasn’t a choice, it was a burden, passed from one generation to the next. And yet, her father had nothing but respect for the Seragians. The Empire was a formidable enemy, a worthy opponent. No, it was his own king that Roderi of Elmar considered loathsome and weak. Melia had spent her youth listening to his complaints about insufficient funds, weapons, soldiers sent to the border, about the soft, privileged life at court, about cowardice and turning a blind eye to the ever-burning fires of conflict in Elmar. In her father’s eyes, the unforgivable crime wasn’t the Empire’s greedy wish to win back their lost province, but the lack of support from the Amrian rulers. They were the ones responsible for Elmar’s wounds.
The king and the lord smiled and embraced, and it hit Meliathat she despised them equally, for they were both bullies, willing to do anything to get their own way. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone pushed sharp swords into their hands and sent them out to settle their accounts in the yard once and for all? The whole court and every person in Syr would be able to breathe freely after that.
Melia’s face prickled and she looked up to see the queen’s clear gray eyes studying her. The angry, rebellious thought in her head, where had it come from? Melia turned quickly, flustered, but the queen merely stepped forward towards the men, breaking their display of goodwill.
“Roderi, welcome,” she said, and her voice rang true, although there was a faint note of caution in it. “What news do you bring from the border?”
“It’s relatively quiet,” her father said. “My scouts tell me the emperor is sending troops to border towns, reinstating the imperial order for the first time in decades. They’ve long forgotten they’re a part of the Empire and it’s time to remind them.”
“He promised to deal with the mountain tribes as well, before the caravans return in the spring,” the king said.
“We all know the Empire has publicly ignored and secretly funded them for decades. They wouldn’t have been able to survive there for so long otherwise,” Roderi of Elmar retorted.
“Yes, but the emperor won’t openly admit to that, will he?” the king said. “Still, the terms are good. I hope you’re looking forward to ending the conflict.”
A flash of panic glinted in her father’s eyes as he said, “I’m not sure I know how to live without it.”
The queen frowned. “In peaceful retirement, I hope.”
“I’m afraid that might turn out to be wishful thinking, my lady,” Melia’s father said. “I find it difficult to believe the Seragians will honor the deal. They’ve already broken thepeace.”
