Iris Cygnet
Archeon, Norta
Chapter IIII
To any one else, the pale blue envelope trimmed in gold would appear harmless, a pleasing little package all wrapped up in a neat bow. If I were anyone else, it would seem like that to me as well.
I massaged my temple as I peered at the envelope in front of me. It had only come yesterday and still, I couldn't find it in myself to open it. There was no doubt my mother had heard the news of father's death at the hands of Salin Iral.
There was a bounty on his head now, declared by mother and my husband. My fist tightened at the thought of that slippery silk. When I got my hands on him I would fill his lungs with water until he couldn't even so much as scream. And I would enjoy it, even if delighting in murder was deemed unholy.
Mother would be furious with my stalling, and I couldn't blame it on my stacks of unfinished paperwork. Maven-wisely enough-hadn't trusted me to deal with intimate matters of his court, lest I report back to my mother. What he didn't realize was that my mother held a far looser grip on my leash than his ever did.
I was given meaningless squabbles of childish lords to deal with. Maven's newest adviser Varun Eagrie had dumped the pile on my desk two days ago, but not before fixing me with a cool smile underlined with smugness. He didn't think I'd finish it.
When he'd strode into my study yesterday with hardened eyes paired with a tight smile and picked them up, it took every shred of self-control to not spit right in his face. After all these years I could not comprehend how people still underestimated me. I was Iris Cygnet, Princess of the Lakelands and Queen of Norta. But the titles weren't what gave me strength. Only a fool would be so dependent of a string of words that meant nothing when faced with death.
Without even realizing it, I pick up the envelope, tracing the swan insignia over and over again. It was a reminder of who I was. I may be the Queen of Norta but this country was not and never would be my home. Home was where trees of pine and maple were abundant, where Adrasteia and I would spend cold winters with steaming mugs of hot chocolate under warm furs.
Adra would always tell me stories, ones about long forgotten holidays that we no longer have use for, anything she'd learned from old history novels. Where mother would tuck me in at night when she could and hunting with father in the woods I loved so much. It was where I felt closest to the gods, out in the open under the night sky. There was something so exhilarating about it.
This cold, barren place was none of those things. Their crown might be one of flames, but no warmth existed in this palace.
I ripped the letter open hoping to find some trace of those memories. A trace of pine, the sound of Adra's laugh, smooth as dripping honey. None of those scents greeted me, save for the floral scent of mother's favourite perfume. It was an iris of course, her favoured flower as well as my namesake.
The letter was written in mother's maddeningly perfect handwriting, the looping letters and swirling symbols a comfort. I brushed my fingers long the fleur de lis engraved in silver at the top of the paper. I supposed here in Norta it was called a lily. Testing the new word out on my tongue felt strange, as did most of the Common language. My eyes scanned the page, and I began to read:
My lovely flower,
News of your father's death has spread far too quickly, and has taken quite a toll on your sister, I'm afraid. I know you loved your father as well, and I am truly sorry. But grief must wait, the court is outraged, many demand that Iral man's death. Not to mention his death is a sign of weakness and a reminder that we can be killed to our enemies, those who reject our new alliance with Norta. Don't fret over it too much my flower, it won't be a problem for much longer. I am writing to inform you that you must find the Iral quickly.
This is important Iris, and I expect updates on your progress. In the meantime, I'm aware of your husband's instability in his own court, which is why it is important now more than ever to produce an heir. You may question me now, but know my dear that I have my plans. Do not fail me. Do not fail our country and our House.
Sincerely,
Her Royal Highness Iridessa of House Cygnet
My stomach churned at the thought of producing an heir with Maven. There was absolutely no way I could manage to sneak into his bedroom. Though we were husband and wife, we did not share a chamber, nor did I want to. But giving the King an heir was a Queen's most important duty.
Aside from that, I knew he wasn't even remotely interested in me. Maven had a strange obsession with Mare Barrow, even fancied himself in love with her. He kept her in chains and never out of his sight, except when he couldn't stand to look at her, at what he owned but would never have.
From the rumors at court along with confirmed reports from my mother, I knew she and the exiled prince had an affair of sorts which led to the death of his father and the start of Maven's shaky reign, all orchestrated by his mother, the late Queen Elara Merandus. In truth, I was grateful to never have met her. Whispers unsettled me, having never seen one for myself at home. Elara Merandus was well known at court for her razor-like precision with her manipulative ability. Even a mind of steel could not withstand her veiled whispers.
I fiddled with the envelope in my hand, perplexed at the weight still remaining, despite the fact that I had already removed its contents. I shook it again and something rattled around. I peered inside, and to my surprise, there was another sheet of paper carefully hidden at the bottom. I smiled. Of course Adra had found a way to sneak a letter to me.
My dear sister,
I hope you are doing well. I have been so terribly worried about you having only received a short letter from father confirming that you two were at Whitefire Palace. I miss father terribly, and I do wish that you were here so we could mourn together. But you are Norta's Queen now. Queens do not spare time for grief. We hold our heads high and keep our tears at bay. I do apologize for quoting grandmother, but it is a wise saying. I know you must be homesick, so here is a little something to relieve your pain.
P.s
If you do not write more often, I will hop on the nearest transportation and yell at you until your ears ring
Sincerely,
Your loving sister, Adrasteia Cygnet
Silent tears flowed down my cheeks, dotting the paper like rain. My breath caught as I lifted the locket out from the bottom. It was beautiful. The metal had been fashioned into an iris with purple crystal as the curling petals and a golden center that caught the light in its faucets, causing a flurry of shining lights to illuminate the dull wooden wall.
My fingers shook as I secured the clasp around my neck, afraid it would drop and shatter into a thousand pieces.
Unfortunately, the sentiment was short-lived as a knock at the door sounded. I straightened in my chair at the noise, quickly wiping at my tears. I could only pray that my eyes weren't red.
"Come in," I called.
The thick wooden door opened revealing Varun Eagrie himself, smirking like a pleased cat. I sighed to myself. His smile usually meant something horrible in store was waiting for me. When mother made her "plans" clear, my first order of business after hunting down that traitorous Iral would be to kill him as well.
"The King requests your presence, my Queen," he grins.
My nostrils flare slightly at the news. Maven was here, without warning. No explanation in advance as to why he had returned to court after being hidden away for months. Like the caring, cowardly husband he was, he left all the work to be done by me, other than the "important" matters he dealt with himself. Maven had retreated to the Welle governed area under the guise of resecuring the house's allegiance after a few key members went rogue, but were later dealt with. I wasn't exactly sure what the region was called, but I did know that it was under Governor Welle's command. For some strange reason Maven liked that area, yet I had not an inkling why.
I'd seen Welle's daughter around the Nortan court being held a hostage in order to keep her father on Maven's strings. A clever move, but a predictable one. He cut off all communications between father and daughter, not willing to risk another rebellious act after House Samos, Laris, Lerolan and Haven conspired to have removed him from the throne right under his nose. The remaining High Houses may be his allies, but I could tell he didn't trust them one bit.
Then there was also the matter of the retaking of the Corvium garrisons which I'm sure he was quite "busy" with.
I rose from my seat and brushed past him without so much as a glance. I knew how that irked him. Like the little peacock that he was, Varun liked attention.
I strode briskly ahead of Eagrie who showed no reaction to that. He probably knew that it would have happened minutes before the actual event took place. It unsettled me, as well as a whispers ability to see into your thoughts. There was something so vulnerable about that, having someone see your darkest fears and deepest regrets. There were no known whispers in the Lakelands and I'd always been comfortable with that knowledge. But the Nortan court was different. No wonder Maven has resorted to a throne of silent stone.
It was effective and necessary, yet I wondered what prompted him to believe that he would be untouchable on that throne. It had certainly taken a toll on his health from what I'd seen. He ate less and barely slept, evidenced by the heavy dark lines that circled his disturbingly cold blue eyes. Silent stone may protect him from the prying whispers of the Merandus house, but could not stop the shadows that grew within him each day. I didn't know which one was worse. Having your mind violated or being tortured by the pain of your past, a self inflicted wound.
The room died down as soon as I stepped through the arched, overwrought doorway leading into the smaller throne room. I relished the feeling of being able to quiet a room without words. It was a talent both my mother and sister possessed, and so they taught me to do the same. And I thanked them now more than ever for it.
The walk to that solitary throne was a long one. My feet made no sound as I stalked over. I did my best to ignore the curious glances and cruel faces of the Merandus house. Though I had been raised to be fearless, the thought of having my mind violated set me on edge and my steps quickened ever so slightly. Not too much though. I didn't need to give them any more ammunition than they already had.
Ever so slowly, I sunk into my own seat, twin to Maven's, albeit a little smaller. As much as I hated to admit it, the silent stone was partially a good idea. When I'd requested a throne built of the suffocating material, Maven had given me a dark grin and agreed to the disguised demand. It was almost as if he could sense my fears. Could he? Could his mother could've somehow altered his mind to sense someone fear? Was that even possible?
The idea unsettled me even further, but I did not yield my expression. Dozens of eyes studied me and I crossed my legs over one another. Some looked mildly shocked at my outfit of leather pants and a traditional Lakelands top of colourful intricately woven yarn set into swirling patterns emblazoned with crystals that glittered when I moved, giving the expression of flowing waters. I wore a light turquoise and white today, the colours of my house. Mother always said that it was important to never forget where you came from.
I supposed to them it looked like casual wear.
A lady dressed in deep blue accented with green approached the dais, curtsying before me. Her blue eyes skimmed my face as a smile curled her painted lips. Blue and green was House Osanos. I remembered that from the lessons that mother had insisted Adra and I attend. It was always best to know your enemy inside and out so when the time came it would be nothing at all to destroy them. Another harsh quote of Iridessa Cygnet.
"My Queen," she smiled. "May I introduce myself?"
"Go on," I waved, wondering why Nortans bothered asking. It wasn't as if I could say no.
The lady flashed her white teeth again as she said, "I am Seraphine Osanos, sister to William Osanos." Seraphine tilted her head to examine me further. "You may have heard of him, though I do not blame you if you are unaware." But I did know. After The previous head of their house was murdered by Mare Barrow during her failed execution, the eldest son, William took his place. Ameera, my old teacher had taught me that. Sometimes I wondered if she only took the job in order to catch up on all the latest gossip, but I couldn't blame her when I begged for the details.
"William Osanos, eldest son of the late Lord Edmund and Lady Marisol Osanos," I recited from memory, if only to shut up her misguided assumptions of my ignorance to Nortan drama. "Lady Seraphine Osanos, twin to Stephan Osanos and of course the youngest, Lady Illyia Osanos." Her lips twitched downwards into a frown, clearly offended by my intelligence. "I'd share more, but I'm sure you're already aware. Though if you need some clarification, I'd be more than happy to help educate you," I said sweetly, forcing myself to fix a cool smile on my face and not laugh outright at her fuming. I couldn't help but add more, if only to send her stomping away. "I'm not quite sure how Nortans view rumors of illicit affairs, but in the Lakelands, we honour our partners."
Her crystalline eyes narrowed at the words. That information was hard to obtain, though it did cause quite a scandal many years ago. One that I wasn't old enough to remember. One look at Seraphine Osanos and it wasn't hard to guess whether the rumors surrounding her and her twin brother's conception were. Both Lady and the late Lord Osanos had honey blond hair. It was a trait of the house, as well as their clear blue eyes.
Seraphine surely had the blue eyes, but her hair was a rich brown, and her skin tone was slightly darker than her eldest brother, William. Her twin, Stephen stood near the base of the stairs, doing his best to inconspicuously listen to our conversation. He as well shared the same features as his sister. But due to Lady Marisol's mother having the same brown hair as Seraphine and Stephen, the mystery was never solved. The whole situation intrigued me. It wasn't often I heard such scandalous rumors.
I could tell Seraphine was angry by the flush on her golden cheeks, but her cold smile told otherwise. She inclined her head ever so slightly, a less respectful gesture than from before. "Good day, my Queen," she said stiffly before returning to her brother's side. He took her by the arm and led her away. As they whispered in low tones and I strained to hear them.
My little attempt at eavesdropping was quickly interrupted by the opening of the heavy wooden doors and the sound of boots clicking on the floor as Maven's party entered the room. The crowd fell silent, bowing their heads as they parted to make way for the king.
Either Maven barely noticed or didn't care as he swept past them, not even sparing a single glance at one person. His shivering blue eyes were fixed firmly on his throne as he stalked past the crowd. Usually a King's presence would be announced, but Maven didn't waste time on such trivial things. Besides, he didn't need to be announced. Like my mother, he made his presence known without even so much as lifting a finger.
He took his seat beside me and finally looked down at the lords and ladies staring up at him. He fixed a cool smile on his pale lips as he spoke. "I must apologize for my abrupt return, but I'm here now and that's all that matters." He turns to me, extending a hand. I take it, ignoring his cold fingers grasping mine. "I would like to thank my wife for acting on my behalf while I was away." He pressed a kiss to my hand, and it took everything within me to not pull away.
Instead I smile graciously. "The pleasure was mine. After all, we must do what we can to protect our country in such perilous times." Many nod their heads, but I see Maven glare sharply at me before glancing away just as quickly. I knew what he wanted to say. This wasn't my country or my home, but I must make these foolish peacocks believe it. If they believed I could protect them, then it would be nothing at all to secure their trust.
"Now if you would excuse me, I would like to speak with my wife, alone," he adds. "Surely you would like to rest after a long travel, your highness," Varun says from seemingly nowhere. I tense slightly, but do not make a sound. He senses my discomfort anyways.
"There's work to be done," Maven says brusquely, brushing Varun off. He simply nods and stalks off. I don't miss his clenched jaw. "As you were," he motions for the court to resume their previous activity, and so they do. Except for a few who still watch us. I note Lady Seraphine and her brother, Stephan quietly observing me. I had a feeling those two would be quite a handful for me.
He turns toward me, and I meet his gaze, unflinching. "Shall we speak somewhere more private?" he asks. Ask was a nice word for it actually. It was a demand disguised as a request, one that I must obey. "Of course," I smiled for any onlookers. "Skonos," he says, addressing the masked sentinel next to him. Maven doesn't even need to finish the sentence. His three guards move to surround us as we descend the steps, arm in arm. We almost looked like a proper husband and wife. I chuckled quietly. How far that was from the truth.
His study was dimly lit and vase of red roses stood on the desk. A large chair sat at the head while another less plush chair was opposite to it. I supposed that was my seat. I folded my legs and adjusted my shirt as Maven took the large seat. Was I mad or did he really have a slight twinkle in his eyes? There must have been news, good or bad I can't say. He and I had very different definitions of good and bad.
"Is there news?" I prod, hoping to extract some information from him. He nods, drumming his gloved fingers on the desk. "Our forces have failed to secure the Corvium garrisons." His teeth pull back slightly from his mouth as he says, "Montfort has allied with the Scarlet Guard the rebelling houses. The two former held the walls until the houses arrived." He frowned at that, eyes darkening to match the midnight shade of his gloves.
I could only imagine how furious mother would be when she received the news. Outwitted by Reds was quite an embarrassment to both of our countries.
"You're telling me that for the second time we have lost against those terrorists?" I confirm in disbelief.
"They had the help of those houses," Maven interjects coolly. "Along with those newblood freaks."
"So it's true then, Newbloods have the advantage over Silvers."
"Yes," he says, not even blinking. This was a fact to him, one that didn't seem to be troubling in any way.
"What other news is there?"
A small smile curves his lips and I swallow hard. "My grandmother, Anabel Lerolan has convinced Montfort to support my treacherous brother's claim to the throne."
My brows furrowed. What could possibly be good about that?
He continues almost gleefully, delighting in my confusion.
"House Samos has offered to join with House Calore."
I stare blankly at him.
"Lady Evangeline is now reengaged to my brother. He has agreed to grandmother's idea."
Ah. That explains his joyful attitude. His brother and Mare Barrow were no longer together.
"When did this happen?"
He shrugs, relaxing into his chair. "We received the news yesterday, so perhaps the day before."
Maven was doing his best to act nonchalant when he was anything but. He was overjoyed at the news of Mare and his brother no longer...a thing.
But past all of that, there was still the looming issue of Tiberias coming to reclaim his rightful throne and the new partnership of the Scarlet Guard and Montfort.
Maven voiced all of this aloud while I sat silently, mulling over all of this. I needed to get a letter to mother and Adra immediately. I needed to know what mother's next steps in this whole thing were.
"If you would excuse me, but I would like to retire to my chambers." I say, rising from my seat. Mother's words come back to me and I hesitate. "Is...is not custom for a husband and wife to share a bed?" I squeeze out, almost cringing at the words. Maven goes still, his words halting on his tongue as he stares up at me.
"My mother and father did not share a bed," he says flatly.
"They had to have conceived you some way," I counter.
"Heirs are quite dangerous these days, as I know. My own brother murdered our father to take the crown early."
We both know your mother had him on her strings all the while, I want to bite back.
Instead I dip my head. "As you wish, my king."
Here you go, an extra long chapter to make up for the long wait! How do you all like Iris so far? And hint, we might get to meet her family ;)
Please comment and vote as much as you can because I'm greedy and like hearing feedback.