Moonshadows
XIV
o0o
It was a somber occasion, but regardless the sun shone warmly on a mild autumn morning, the sky carrying a wisp of cloud here and there. A breeze carried the various smells through the large clearing that served as at the town square so that Kuoji breathed in the scent of smoke, dust, cooking, decaying leaves, human body odor, and leather.
Representatives of various classes and organizations were thronged to see the execution of a man whose name was already reviled in Yngsian history. Since this was a momentous occasion, Mahtin had been marched from the manor to the town, Yngsians lined along the way to scream obscenities or hurl objects at him.
Many of them had traveled hundreds of miles for this occasion, something Lord Silorn had been wise enough to account for in his planning. Lord Silorn, along with the heads of the other Great Lords of Yngis had even sponsored lotteries so that commoners had their chance to see justice. These lucky ticket-holders had been given horses and provisions to keep them comfortable on their trip to the capitol of the newest Yngsian province. They also received a modest sum of money that should the winner be frugal, could last a lifetime. The drawing had been open to all middle and lower-class folks, irrespective of age or gender, so there was a rich assortment of people to witness the disgraced man's much-anticipated punishment.
By the time the former general faced the executioner's block, he was grimy with all sorts of filth. He'd been given a bucket of water to clean his hands and face – to more boos and catcalls – before he was shoved up onto the wooden platform.
Kuoji regarded the pinched, scowling face of one of the greatest generals Corona had ever known. At least, he was called great by people still loyal to the Sol family and the Way of the Light. He'd been responsible for the annexation of Yngis under Coronan rule two decades ago, and a great deal of atrocities committed under that rule. The name Mahtin would be a curse in the Yngsian tongue for decades, even centuries to come, and it was almost a wonder that the Lords of Yngis had not killed him outright the moment they had him in custody. Not that he would have blamed them.
Gerard Mahtin was the third son of the previous Lord Mahtin, and like many 'spare' sons in Coronan society, had to serve his older brother, or seek his fortune elsewhere. House Mahtin had been one of the most powerful houses in Helin's court. Thanks to the prestige of his family – as well as his own ruthlessness – Gerard had risen through the ranks, and nearly a decade into his career, had been one of the prominent figures in the invasion of Yngis. His ruthless treatment of those who resisted Coronan rule brought him the King's notice, and he'd become the Governor-General of Corona's newest province.
What followed was two decades of oppression, brutality, and systemic propaganda to try to wipe out Yngis' national and cultural pride. Yngsians who bent the knee to their conquerors were better off than those who resisted, but not by much. Yngsian women who enjoyed near-equality with their male peers found themselves reduced to second-class citizens, many of their previous rights curtailed or outright taken away. Even Yngsian men were subject to restrictions.
Homosexuality and cross-dressing, which had been discreetly accepted in Yngis, was blasphemous in the Way of the Light. Younger sons found their inheritances greatly reduced if not eliminated completely. Heterosexual men who nonetheless enjoyed pursuits considered more feminine – such as nursing, sewing, and the like – were pressured to become more 'masculine' as the Heavenly Father had strictly prescribed roles for the sexes.
To help the Yngsians more quickly accept the Coronan way of life, Lord Mahtin had employed brutal – and often public – methods of dealing with those who would not adhere to the Coronan mores. Women who spoke out against the restrictions set forth for them could find themselves whipped, gagged with the scold's bridle, and in quite a few instances, had their tongues removed. Homosexuals and cross-dressers were castrated. People caught engaging in plans for rebellion could be drawn and quartered, or at the very least, mutilated in some way – generally the loss of a limb or two.
There were several in the crowd, as Kuoji had noted, who were missing an arm or a leg, and a couple who had had their eyes gouged out. Gerard Mahtin had believed that his brutal methods were effective in keeping his subjects under control, but it only made people all the more careful to conceal their activities, and when the Atyamai arrived in the spring, they'd found a welcoming populace who were only too eager to cast off the yoke of Coronan oppression. Some members of the Atyamainese army were Yngsians themselves – or children of Yngsians – who had managed to escape during the Coronan invasion or some time afterward, and their homecoming had been bittersweet.
Many Yngsians, who had acted the part of loyal Coronan citizens, were quick to reveal their true colors, including the captain of Mahtin's personal guard. Forces loyal to Mahtin found themselves quickly overwhelmed by Yngsian and Atyamainese forces, especially since messages warning Mahtin of the Atyamainese invasion had been intercepted by Yngsian loyalists.
Mahtin had barely been able to escape with what remained of his loyalists. However, the rest of Corona fell to the Atyamai, and there had been no place for him to hide, for Viruch and Dakul had Corona from the south and west, and the rest of Corona was bordered by the ocean. He'd been in hiding for several months until one of his servants turned him over to the Atyamainese for a handsome reward, and as part of their pact with Yngis, had turned him over to the Yngsians. He'd been in Lord Silorn's custody for nearly a month while the Lords of Yngis deliberated his fate.
Now the former governor-general faced throngs of people, some of them whom he'd personally ordered mutilated. He stared out at them, maintaining his sour expression. Doubtless he expected the Heavenly Father to save him at this eleventh hour, or to go on to his heavenly reward for his loyal service.
Lord Silorn rose to his feet and approached the edge of the balcony that had been constructed for him, and the screams and obscenities quieted down to a murmur as people waited for him to send Mahtin to his fate.
"Today, we are gathered for a momentous occasion. The Dark Years of Yngis will never be forgotten, and I thank all of my comrades and fellow countrymen – and women – for the work they have done, and the sacrifices they have made for their country. Allow us to have a moment of silence for those of our comrades who lost their lives in these dark days."
He placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head. Kuoji did the same, and the rest of the throngs were quick to follow suit. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuoji saw a nobleman and his female companion, both in their fifties. The two were siblings, and the woman had been known as one of the most well-read women in the land. She'd authored several books, and had been a governess to several noble girls.
Her family had bended the knee to Mahtin rather than lose their lands and possibly their lives. She'd objected to the burning of many Yngsian books, and the restrictions placed upon a woman's access to education. Despite the new laws, she'd continued educating girls with the books she'd managed to save. To make an example out of her, Mahtin ordered her blinded so that she could no longer read the books she cherished so much. Their oldest brother tried to defend his sister from this grisly fate, but had been felled by Mahtin himself in the attempt.
The girls that Lady Rebecca had educated were sent off to an especially strict Coronan nunnery, near the northwestern reaches of Corona, desolate veldts separating them from the sea. The only book allowed within its walls were the Holy Book.
Even though Rebecca could no longer see, she mimicked the others in the hand gesture, sightless eyes staring off at the sky, her ears doubtless sharply attuned to what was happening in front of her.
"And I would like another moment of silence for those of us who are still here today, who have suffered. When you gaze upon these scars, do not pity them. Give them respect and dignity, and remember the love of your country."
Kuoji saw a faint glimmer of pleasure in Rebecca's expression before he returned his attention to the platform. Obern was solemn in green and black, the former color one of the things Coronans and Yngsians had in common in regards to mourning. He'd lost several family members, and loyal friends and servants to the Coronans. He fit well the idea of masculinity that was so dear to Corona, but as his friends would know, he was not a man who was afraid to acknowledge other people's emotions, or his own.
"One of the virtues Yngsians love so well is justice. For so long we have been denied it, but it has finally been put in our hands. Many of us have awaited this moment. I have meditated upon it… and I have decided that it would not be just to have this man die today."
Confused silence, interspersed by several murmurs, rippled through the crowd.
"Typically, we deliver our criminals from this life with a swift stroke of an ax. However, given the magnitude of Gerard Mahtin's crimes, I feel that a quick end would serve no real purpose. I saw how ill-regarded he was as he walked here. Many of you had the chance to personally express your anger towards him. And many others haven't. He has wrought suffering upon so many that he would never be able to make full amends, even in a thousand lifetimes."
Kuoji regarded his cousin with a thoughtful frown as Lord Silorn looked down at the condemned man. What did Obern have in mind? Community service?
"He will spend the rest of his life in suffering. I order Gerard Mahtin to have his arms and legs removed."
Stunned silence greeted his words before Rebecca raised her fist in the air. Others, taking note of the blind woman, followed suit. Kuoji recognized the signal, and raised his own fist. More hands lifted as the Yngsian people processed, and understood what was about to happen, and why. The Yngsian sign of silent approval and support was one from ancient times, and the sea of fists told Gerard Mahtin how much Yngis welcomed the hell that Lord Silorn was about to wreak upon him.
o0o
Sialen rose from her seat, having completed a letter to her mother. She stared out the window, recalling the stunned expression on her father and brother's faces as they witnessed the ultimate fate of one of Corona's greatest heroes.
To think that Gerard Mahtin had been one of her marriage prospects! The Governor-General had paid the court a visit about half a decade ago. She had immediately disliked the hatchet-faced man. When he looked at her, it made her skin crawl. Despite the things he'd done, Sialen shuddered at the horrors that awaited him. Devoid of his limbs, he would spend the rest of his days in a small space unless taken out of it for public viewing, where people could curse at him or throw things at him. He had to eat like an animal and was given only a burlap sack for modesty.
She had turned away when it came time to remove his limbs, but she remembered hearing him scream for mercy. In response, the doomed man had only received a stinging rebuke as he was reminded of all the people he'd denied mercy to.
Helin and Solan were fortunate that the Atyamainese had claimed them in the negotiations between Yngis and Atyamai, for if the people hated the former governor-general, of course they were going to despise his king and crown prince.
However, Sialen had kept the account of Mahtin's fate brief and neutral in her letter. She'd paid more attention to Hrotrud's account of Risilda's tale, as well as events such as the harvest festival, which was another tradition shared by Corona and Yngis. About Helin and Solan, she said little, simply stating that they were being cared for.
She left her rooms after pulling on a light cloak, making her way to the kitchen gardens which adjoined a yard that was often used to complete kitchen chores. Hrotrud was sitting in a rocking chair under the awning, directing the staff as to what to prepare for the day's lunch and sup. In her lap was some knitting, her thick fingers twisting the yarn around the needles deftly.
Her granddaughter, Fiana, was playing with one of the kitchen cats, using a piece of scrap yarn. The girl's half-sister, Fianetta, was reading a book.
As she spent time with Hrotrud, Sialen had come to greatly admire the old women. During the years of Coronan rule, Hrotrud had played the role of a subservient woman well enough to fool her would-be oppressors. The three royal families of Yngis found many allies among their people, Hrotrud's family among them. Her daughter had become Obern's mistress. About a year after Fiana was born, she had broken her neck in a fall after her horse had been struck with several arrows from a group of Coronan soldiers after a rebel mission.
Hrotrud was now the caretaker of not only her granddaughter, but the rest of the girl's siblings until they became old enough to leave the nursery. The old woman was fiercely loyal to the father of her bastard grandchild, and Obern in turn respected her and followed her advice. Sialen observed her as she used her influence to ensure that the fulfillment of her responsibilities ran smoothly for everyone within the household, at least those who fell under her sphere of influence. She'd learned, during the Dark Years, to make the most of the limited resources former governor-general had allotted to the Yngsians.
Sana had taught her much about Atyamainese ways, answering her questions and teaching her the language. Hrotrud was an able teacher in the ways of Yngis, and they discussed history, comparing the histories they had been taught by their respective governments. It was no secret to Coronans that they shared a history with Yngis. But from Hrotrud's stories, it was quite clear that their mother countries had different ways of viewing themselves and the other country.
The two countries agreed that their people had come from far beyond the west. Where exactly, neither of them could quite pinpoint. This peregrination started approximately one and a half millennia ago, their ancestors settling in a new land before some calamity forced them from this new home centuries later.
Given the differences between Coronans and Yngsians, and bits of evidence of a civil war in the old country, historians on both sides agreed that this contributed in part to the social and cultural divide.
Whatever the specifics of the second peregrination, the Coronans had come away with the better part of the national resources. The Hgngu that had once been native to this continent had been shoved out or exterminated by the Coronan invaders thanks to the superiority of the invader's technology and resources.
The people that would form Yngis traveled further than their counterparts, and landed on one of the eastern reaches of the continent, where Corona would establish their kingdom from the western shores. It would be many decades before all but a sparse handful of Hgngu was exterminated or exiled under the hands of the pale devils, as the Coronans were called. Although the Coronans' military might had aided in this venture, they had a deadly ally on their side – disease not native to this land, and the Hgngu's natural defenses had nothing against this virulent invader.
The Hgngu survivors who had managed to survive sword and plague were welcomed into Yngis, where some of them intermarried, giving Yngis an ethnic diversity. She'd seen several of them here as servants, and the language they spoke amongst one another was a rich mixture of their ancestral Hgngu tongue and modern Yngsian. Amongst the mixture of Yngsian, Hgngu, Coronan, and Atyamainese residents of this estate, Sialen was receiving rich lessons in the diversity of this world and experiencing for herself cultures that broadened her world-view.
She glanced up as she heard Hrotrud speak in the Hgngu-Yngsian tongue to several servants. Hrotrud spoke it well, and had no problem conveying her commands to the kitchen-maids, waving her arm at basketfuls of potatoes and peas as she issued instructions for that evening's sup.
Seeing this woman come from modest means and knowing of her struggles gave Sialen cause for reflection. In the Coronan way, she was expected to marry or go to a convent. The third option was often lonely spinsterhood in the service of one's family, tending to their brother's children or rendering other services in exchange for a roof over their head and food in their belly. The Holy Book also preached about brothers and fathers protecting unmarried sisters and daughters. Even spinster aunts fell under this obligation.
Hrotrud's daughter had also been a bastard, yet on Yngsian society, this accounted for nothing. A man was expected to provide for all of his children, whatever side of the sheets they had been conceived upon. And a woman, if she wished to support herself, could find a means, even if some opportunities were limited. If a sister or other female relative kept house for a man, she could negotiate a contract with him that helped to protect her from abuse.
Even though she had chafed under many of the strictures of Coronan society, it was still overwhelming at times to think about the freedoms she now possessed.
"Here, help," Hrotrud said before she felt a weight in her lap and looked down to see a basket of peas. Almost without thinking, Sialen picked up her hands, and started shelling the peas. Though she had come of high breeding, she was not unfamiliar to working with plants. She and her sister had helped Mother in her garden, and had helped her supervise the kitchen at times. As a future lady, wife, and mother, she was expected to know how to run a household. Coronan and Yngsian society certainly did not differ in this practice. Denis and Fiamela had been out riding with the overseers while various strips of land were being farmed, and Obern's younger children observed the goings-on rather than being shut away all day at desks while dry-voiced tutors grated at them.
Her nails dug into the pods, splitting them as they readied the peas for consumption.
"You put a princess to work?" she heard Lord Obern say with a mild gasp. She looked up to see the tall Yngsian smirk lightly as he regarded the ladies.
"Lady Starsmore, do please forgive Hrotrud's treatment of you. Allow me to rescue you from this predicament." Obern's eyes twinkled as he grinned at her.
"Be off with you, Lord Silorn," Hrotrud replied in a mock weary tone.
"She keeps me entertained with her stories," Sialen replied.
"You put the women to kitchen work while you gallivant around, hunting. How do you expect us to keep ourselves entertained?" the old woman scolded, wagging her finger.
"Hah," Lord Silorn replied, waving his hand. The lord and the old woman shared an amused glance before Hrotrud went back to shelling peas and Obern strode past Sialen, giving her a friendly wink.
o0o
Even though it'd been nearly a decade since she'd been here, Selestia still recognized her ancestral home as her carriage rolled down the Petal Road, which by this time had narrowed considerably when it crossed the border into the private estate of the Fiori manor.
Though some orchards had been raised, or razed, and some of the crops rotated or fallow, Selestia recognized the gently-rolling hills that made up the vast farms of the tenants who paid homage to House Fiori. A maintained ring of forest served as a privacy and wind barrier to Meadowholt, which had been home to House Fiori for centuries.
Like the Imperial Palace, Meadowholt had been built upon the foundations of the predecessors to the Coronans. The founder of House Fiori had been a powerful Earth Mage, and it was said that his magic had continued to enrich the land after his death, even if it seemed that his gifts had not been passed through the bloodline. The last member of House Fiori to have any touch of Earth magic was a female cousin of the main line a couple of generations back. She'd been given to the heir of the Fiori family, but their union had produced many miscarriages and stillbirths, and her line had gone extinct, her magical potential squandered and stifled by her husband and family.
It was said that a large part of Corona's might in their Great Peregrination was their magical force. Where had that gone, historians wondered. Attempts to breed specific lines of magic often resulted in disaster or weak offspring. What did that mean for Sialen?
Selestia's thoughts returned to reality of her surroundings as Meadowholt loomed before her, becoming larger as the horses pulled the vehicle forward. She saw several people she recognized amidst higher-ranking servants, and daintily stepped out of the carriage. The somber colors of her gown made her stand out like a raven amidst the vibrant colors she saw before her. Behind them, Meadowholt loomed, the pale sandstone of the upper parts of the manor reflecting the warm colors of the sun.
"Welcome to Meadowholt, dear Aunt," Reginald Fiori stepped forward. Grandson of the recently-deceased Lord Fiori and his heir before Atyamainese law placed his older sister ahead of him, the pasty-faced young man lifted his chin slightly. Despite his soft features, the fineness of his blue and white jerkin and cape did lend a bit of dignity to his look. His wife stood beside him, her chestnut brown hair plaited into an elegant coif, her expression one of demure placidity. The swell under Roslin's blue and green gown she wore alerted Selestia to Reginald's success in his filial duty to continue the bloodline.
Reginald's younger sister stood behind him, clad in a dress of blue and white with silver embroidery of flowers in a pattern of House Fiori's symbol – a white flower on an azure field. Their younger brother Georg finished the group at fourteen years of age, and was clad in a jerkin with similar color to his siblings' garb.
"Lords and Ladies Fiori, how lovely to see all of you," she said, acknowledging the siblings equally. To keep peace within the family, Jacinthe had declared for the time being, her brothers and sister joint heirs in the welfare of House Fiori There certainly was more than enough in this ancient house for multiple heirs, although she knew that her father would have gone into apoplexy had he lived to see his heir denied the totality of what he was supposed to be entitled to.
Reginald, Azalia, and Georg were as different from one another as any of the elements were from one another, as Selestia would come to observe, but these differences would prove themselves to be less of a detriment to the siblings as some would believe.
In the meanwhile, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the hospitality of her House as she was led inside and taken to one of the posh guest apartments to ready herself for the evening. The view from her window revealed a well-kept garden, most of its greenery already harvested. Given the mild winters of the Green, productivity would continue through the year with several winter crops. It rarely snowed this far south, and Selestia wondered how her husband, son, and daughter would fare in the winters of the Islands, which Azami said could be bitter at times.
Selfish as she knew it would sound, she was glad to not have to endure that sort of weather. She pondered her options. As a dowager queen – a respectable title bestowed upon her by Azami – she certainly had high status. She had been allowed to keep some of her jewelry, and a sum of gold had been bequeathed upon her so that she could live by independent means. If she desired a husband, that sum would serve well as a dowry. Even though she had just passed childbearing age, she was still a beautiful woman, and her skills and status would ensure a decent match.
However, after thirty years of being married to a spoiled, bitter, tyrannical husband she had no desire to yoke herself to another man. With her money, she could buy a modest estate and farm it as she saw fit or use it for a commercial enterprise; Atyamainese law now allowed a woman as much opportunity to this as a man.
Or she could simply live here, ending her days in the place she had been born. It was expected of widows to lead quiet lives and care for their families, as the role of mother rarely ended in Coronan society once it was taken upon. If Reginald, or any of his siblings had daughters, she would be looked to as a mentor and benefactress. As Queen, she was well known for the example she led with her life, and even before marriage, there was a reason why her father had offered her to House Sol as a bride for the then-King's eldest son.
Selestia turned from the window. She had no desire to tread along these avenues. Yet she was not certain what she did want. In the span of a quarter of a year, her life had been turned upside down. Being here at Meadowholt was almost overwhelming, especially considering that now, she could do nearly anything she'd wanted. The woman who'd expected slavery and degradation at the hands of her captors had come to learn that goodness came in different forms, many of them not proscribed in the Holy Book.
Summoning a servant, she called for a bath, feeling weary from many days on the road. Perhaps this was the reward for the years she'd suffered. After all, it was said that the Heavenly Father worked in mysterious ways.
Reginald hosted a sumptuous banquet, befitting of a dowager queen and for the next week, things went on pleasantly. The way things proceeded were little different than they had in the old days, and the familiar scents and sights took Selestia back to her childhood, where she had been more innocent and carefree, before the ugly realities of the world settled in. And even now, it appeared as if the Atyamainese had never invaded.
Lord Reginald Fiori sat at the head table, in the seat of honor as was the right of every Lord of the Green. Lesser nobles, vassals, and serfs alike came to pay homage, kneeling before the table, and if they were fortunate, they might get to share in said meal. Azalia and Georg were usually silent or conversing quietly with others. When holding Court, Reginald again assumed the rule that his forebears had filled, deciding cases and granting petitions. It seemed at times that he was not consciously aware of the shift in power because of the perceived obeisance of his younger siblings.
It appeared that his siblings permitted him to take the leading role in most functions. In the old Coronan hierarchy, unmarried sisters and brothers were expected to give their oldest brother support. On the surface, it did not seem that things were much different now than they had been. And Lady Roslin performed the usual duties of a noblewoman, and she did them well, ensuring that the household ran smoothly. Having presided over domestic affairs for the last three decades, it felt strange being no longer mistress of the household.
Since their mother was dead, Roslin was like a stepmother to her younger in-laws, and she and Azalia sometimes butted heads. As Selestia came to observe in her time at Meadowholt, Azalia and Georg had gifts that made them indispensable to the Meadows. Azalia loved being outdoors, and excelled at horseback riding, animal husbandry, gardening, and farming. She truly was a child of the Green, and had there been any skilled enough Mage around, they would have noted a touch of long-lost Earth magic within Azalia. As a lady, her knowledge of these coarser subjects were supposed to be somewhat limited, but the noble-born woman did not shy away from dirt and now that she had been given a stakes in the Meadows, she was determined to protect her investment.
Roslin would encourage her to sew, or other pursuits which were supposed to make her more desirable as a marriage prospect, and the young Fiori woman would simply toss her hair over her shoulder and laugh, saying that flowers belonged in the dirt, and what was she but Lady Fiori, whose sigil was a flower?
It was true that some of the lesser lords as well as serfs had a difficult time accepting a woman in such a position of authority, but Reginald was intelligent enough to see the value his sister had, and used his own power to vest his Azalia with official authority, something Roslin had to accept. Although a part of his decision was also aided by the fact that he was told in no unclear terms that if he would not share Fiori's wealth with his family, he would get none of it for himself.
Georg on the other hand had a talent for reading numbers. He was already helping the majordomo with the household expenses and estate accounts, and it seemed apparent that when he became old enough, he'd become the House accountant. In due time, with his own share of Fiori's wealth, he could choose to make investments or sales without needing his brother's permission. As Selestia observed the family dynamics, she gained a better idea of what she wanted for her own future.
o0o
Sialen tightened the collar of her fur-trimmed cloak as she and Kuoji strolled in the woods near the stream where they'd had their first encounter a decade ago. A spate of mild and sunny days had the river at an ordinary ebb. At a bend, the water gathered into a pool before tumbling several feet downstream. Red and gold foliage danced on the wind as brown leaves crunched underfoot.
"Mmm, this brings back memories." Kuoji stood near the bank, looking down at the pool before following the water downstream. "I saw your brother chase you here, and shove you into the water," the Atyamainese prince continued as Sialen came to his side.
"And a noble prince came to my rescue," Sialen finished for him sweetly. He pulled her into his embrace, and when his lips pressed against her own, she parted them. His embrace tightened, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling his warmth press into her. A loving nibble along her lower lip had her core aching, and with a soft moan, she turned her face away. He placed kisses along her cheek and ear.
"My prince," she whispered. He lifted his head, looking down at her lovingly. Slowly, he relaxed his grip, and slid away from her before taking her hand, leading her along the thin path that ran near the stream. The cool autumn breeze was a welcome balm to the heat in her cheeks. Their ungloved hands kept a firm but gentle grip, and a gentle squeeze alerted her to his desire to speak.
The sunlight filtered through the leaves, causing a dance between luminescence and shadow. Kuoji's eyes sparkled like emeralds when he tilted his face skyward, and he gazed back down at her as he lifted her hand to his lips. Warmth returned to her cheeks as he stared into her eyes. She felt her hand being lowered before he pressed it to his chest, where she felt the thud of his heart beneath the layers of fabric that kept him warm.
"I love you." Sialen was so lost in the serenity of the moment that she almost did not register the words that met her ears.
"Kuoji." Her whisper was so soft she was not sure she had actually uttered it.
"I love you," he repeated. He squeezed her hand. "I have made no secret of my affection and respect for you." His free hand reached up to touch her cheek. "I wish to share my life with you, my princess."
Kuoji had indeed been candid about his feelings for her. She commanded his desire, and could have used it to manipulate him. It was not difficult to see what sort of potential futures she had. Even as nothing more than a royal mistress, she would command a certain level of power and wealth. As a wife and potential future Empress, Kuoji's desire opened to her possibilities few women ever experienced.
"Do you wish to share your future with me, Sialen?" Kuoji asked after she'd been silent for several moments. She blinked and nodded quickly right before she noticed the beginning of worry in his features melt away to joy.
"I only ask that I be given time, my prince. I am going to be a stranger in a strange land."
"A stranger under my protection. And blessed with my love," he reminded her. She smiled at him. He offered his arm and she took it, continuing along the path with her prince.