Six weeks and two days. I turned the number over. Six weeks and two days to find the flaw in their plan and devise an alternative. They were right about the twins and about Avren. I could not argue Aric or Aden onto the throne, and I would not wish Avren there. Which left only one door, and it was the door they had closed.
I would have to convince them that Arlen could still be king.
I shelved the thought before it could show on my face. I needed time to prepare my arguments so they would be convincing when I presented them to my parents.
It was a frail hope.
My parents, and especially my father, did not reverse decisions. They executed them. But frail was better than none, and I had spent a lifetime learning to find the one loose thread in an argument that looked seamless.
Arlen was that thread.
If my brother could be made whole again, or at least whole enough, or even made only to look whole enough by the night of the ball, then I could convince them that he just needed time to heal his mind, and that by the time he ascended to the throne he would be hale and ready.
"How do you intend to explain the Elucian blood?" I asked instead.
To bond a dragon, a rider needed Elucian descent, and if it became known where I had been and what I had done, it would mean admitting the Tekumuton line carried it, which my father had spent his reign concealing.
"As long as I'm out of sight and out of mind, you can keep the illusion of the purity of our line. But once you put me in the spotlight, everyone and their mother will try to find out every little detail about me. You will trade one embarrassment for another."
"I don't intend to explain anything because there is nothing to explain. Almost no one knows you were in Elucia, and no one at all knows what you did there. The handful who know that you crossed the border were told you were doing quiet work on my behalf, negotiating for closer cooperation with the Dragon Force, and the Elucians agreed to keep your involvement with the force a secret. As far as the Federation is concerned, you have spent these months as my envoy."
"And Codric?"
"Still negotiating on my behalf." A faint, dry smile. "That is why I decided not to ask for his release. I needed him to keep the fiction intact."
I leaned back in my chair, drained my wine in one long swallow, and refilled the glass. The banquet between us had gone cold, the goat cheese sweating under its wrappings, the bread going soggy from the butter and herbs.
"I think you are making a mistake," I said. "Arlen can still be heir." I watched my father's face for any give and found none. "Did he agree to abdicate, or did you decide it for him?"
"He agreed." My father's voice was heavy. "He knows that he cannot fill the role now. He did not fight us. He seemed relieved, and that was the worst of it. The old Arlen would have fought the decision." My father took a breath and winced. "We have arranged a marriage for him to a crown princess. He will be a prince consort, which is no small station. He will be cared for, and useful, but out of the glare."
A crown princess. I ran through what I remembered of the seventeen heirs, which was less than I should have, given the years I'd spent attending those horrible annual balls. Several were women. Most of those I could recall were already married.
"Which province gets the honor?"
"Tarina," my mother said.
"Tarina." I repeated it, and something stirred at the back of my memory, the avalanche near the border that Kailin had reported, the stranded Elurians the Storm Wing had gone to pull off a mountain. "Why Tarina? Their only value is the border they share with Elucia. It's a small province, with modest resources, and industry that lags decades behind ours."
My father's mouth curved. "I am glad that you still remember that much. Five months among the dragons did not turn your head entirely."
"Five months in Elucia did not erase twenty-four years in Catonia," I said. "I remember exactly which province is worth what, which is why I'm asking why Tarina."
"It's remote and unimportant, and that's the whole point." He inclined his head, pleased with the move. "It's perfect for a prince who needs to disappear from the public eye, and Queen Margada was eager to accept him. An alliance with Catonia is more than she could have dreamed of for her province."
I had no doubt of that. A queen of a forgotten border province, handed a blood-tie to the most powerful province in the Federation, would have signed in her own blood and called it a bargain. She did not care that her daughter was being handed a broken man as a husband. All she could think about was the lucrative alliance.
Poor Arlen. From the most sought-after bachelor in the Elurian Federation to a problem to be wrapped in straw and shipped away, married off to a princess he would never have married otherwise. None of this was fair to anyone, but life wasn't fair.
"Does Arlen know where he's being sent?"
"Not yet," my mother said.
I arched a brow. "What's your plan? Tell him at the ball, in front of the Federation?"
"Yes." My father reached for one of the wrapped appetizers at last, as if naming the worst of it had returned some sliver of his appetite. "That is when I will announce all the betrothals. Some are still being negotiated, but they will be settled by then."
"Who did you find for me?" I wasn't sure I wanted the answer, since I had no intention of standing at any altar, and whatever name he gave me belonged to a woman I would be obliged to disappoint, or rather her parents, who had done the actual choosing. But I was curious.
