And yet, nothing is ever solved by war. Change only comes with the end of it.
- King Richard
Nearly a hundred stalls are spread out in front of the castle. The long tables are full of wares brought in from all corners of our kingdom. Armoured clothes woven out of spider silk. Beautifully taxidermied corpses and decorated bones from the animals of this forest, with flowers and mosses woven through them. Wild, dark splashes of colour across canvases that capture all the hopes of war. My people have brought their best to be laid out on these tables, to flaunt our wealth in front of the poorer Vylians.
Traditional foods and spices flavour the air. Vylians have mostly lived on gruel and other mixes, made of whatever they could find. One of our tactics when we were at war was to drop food along the branches, then occasionally ambush the starving soldiers when they bent to pick it up. If we attacked them every time, they would’ve stopped falling for it. But dangle a bit of hope in front of a terrified man…
My skin crawls with that same feeling of walking into a trap yet being unable to resist. I look at my wife as we move through the empty square. And I can feel the women lying in wait to kill me.
As we reach the other end of the market, where a dark-purple ribbon stretches between two pillars, the tension inside me pulls taut. The twelve women of the Court spread out behind us, six on each side, symbolising the wings of a dragon.
“Last night, we celebrated the signing of the Raza-Vyla Treaty,” I say, speaking to the crowd on the other side of the ribbon. Vylians, Razians, and brownies all stand before us – separated into their own groups, refusing to mingle even now.
But I knew change would not come easy. I have fought my people’s resistance for decades. I will keep fighting it for many years to come.
Feeling my sister’s presence here, I try not to look at all the guards standing in the crowd or flying above us, armed with sniper wands. I try not to listen to the harsh voice in my skull, mocking this idea of progress.The night always gets darker before dawn.
“The war between our two kingdoms ended,” I continue. “Today, Vylians and brownies will trade in our lands for the first time, as our people will trade in theirs tomorrow. There will be a great deal more firsts in the coming years.
“Peace will not be quick, and it will not be easy. But it is the first step to growing old with our loved ones. To seeing our grandchildren born. To no longer carving the names of our children and wives into the trunks of our trees. So thank you, Razians, Vylians, and brownies, for being here today as we open Raza’s first international market.”
Moving forwards, Jace offers a large pair of scissors to both me and King Dravr, who’s standing on my left side. I squeezeArienna’s hand before releasing her, and together, the Vylian king and I cut through the ribbon, opening up the market.
The brownies, both in the crowd and standing at their stalls behind us, rupture into applause. Everyone else stays silent.
“To the many of firsts,” King Dravr says as he stares into the crowd. Turning towards me, he nods, and I respond in kind. Then together, the four of us –him and his wife and me and mine– walk through the market. The Court splits, with half of them heading back to the castle, the other half moving with us. I look around, tracking who’s here. Petre is not part of those who remain.
So does that mean these six are those who have not been told of her plans to assassinate me? Or are they here to fool me into thinking they’re innocent when we’re attacked?
“So, King Dravr,” Arienna says excitedly as we stop at the first stall on our right – a Razian father and son selling scented candles. “Do Vylians like to peg as much as Razians do?”
There is utter silence.
“Oh, of course!” she says, nodding as if she understands the look on his face. “You can’t possibly answer without knowing how many Razians like to be pegged. All of them love it, and Richard –”
“Have you smelled this?” I cut in, picking up a random candle and shoving it under her nose. She sniffs, breathing in a mixture of morning dew and poppies. A dreamy smile graces her face.
“This is wonderful!” she says, turning her attention to the merchant.
King Dravr looks at me, no doubt wondering if I’ve gone mad, taking her as my wife – or perhaps soft enough to kill in battle.
“Can I have it?” Arienna asks.
The merchant’s amber eyes widen. “Y-yes, yes, of course, Your Majesty. Son, get her a bag. That’ll be five –” He stops, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s on the house. I’m honoured that youlike my candles and are speaking to me. It’s been decades since we’ve had a queen. We need –” Horror filling his features, he stops talking. His eyes dart to me. “Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done, Your Majesty. I do. It’s just…” He swallows nervously. His son moves behind him.
“We’ll pay for it,” I say. “You’re here to make money, and you pay us enough in taxes.”
He almost looks like he’s going to faint. His son nudges him. “I’ll get a bag, pa.”
“Of course, of course.” Shaking his head, he smiles at me, then looks back at my queen. “Is there… is there anything else? Not to be pushy, of course. But I have a wide range of smells captured from all over our forest. My son has made his first batch today too, and he is very proud.”
She looks at me.
I nod at the wares. “Take what you wish.”
Beaming, she starts to sniff every candle within reach.
Slowly, King Dravr and a few of the Court members start to browse the table too. Picking up a bar of soap, he doesn’t raise it to his nose. Instead, he turns it over in his hands as he looks at me. “This is…” he says quietly. He hesitates for a moment. “When you waved the white flag, I expected it to be a trap. We would’ve ambushed you if we had the soldiers left to do so.” He shakes his head. “I never dreamed it would end like this. With someone like her being able to survive here, let alone be queen.” He looks out across the market, which is slowly starting to fill with people. The Vylian stalls are passed by most. A little boy stops at one selling dolls, only to be pulled along by his father.
