Chapter 36: Mayfair and Muriel -
Mayfair was beginning to feel more comfortable with Muriel. Their first meeting, at the wedding celebration, had been memorably awkward. The awful fact of her marriage to Nick had left Mayfair feeling lonely and thoroughly inadequate for her new role, and looking back, she realized that Muriel had seen her mood as a sign of weakness, and used the opportunity to intimidate her. She had since grown more confident in her ability to serve as queen, however, and apparently Muriel was responding to her new confidence by according her some respect, and relenting in her attempts to intimidate.
Needless to say, Mayfair found this behavior pattern - treating people with genuine friendliness only when they demonstrated the will to bite back - to be crude, even barbaric, and certainly unacceptable under the moral standards that she had ingrained into her young protegees at Castle Cypress. She did not allow it to blacken her impression of Muriel, however. The woman had more than her fair share of good points; the aid she had lent to Nick's forces in their struggles against Woldol may have been given with the hope that the favor would be repaid once he had taken the throne, but obviously her chief motive had been sympathy for the persecuted Cypressians. Besides, her aggressive diplomatic behavior was not so uncommon among royalty.
Thus, when Muriel asked her a rather personal question on the morning of her first day in Sharland, Mayfair saw no reason not to answer truthfully.
They were seated at a public table of an inn, sipping tea while the staff served them pastries and thick slices of bread glazed with spices(a traditional Sharland breakfast, she gathered). While taking a sip, Muriel studied her intently. She met her look silently, unblinking, enjoying the companionable moment even as she suspected that they were as much adversaries as friends.
Setting down her cup, Muriel said, "Excuse me for asking such a broad question, Your Majesty, but... What is it like, being married to King Nicholas?"
Mayfair sipped her tea a moment longer, to cover up her hesitation. Then, setting it down as Muriel had, she replied, "It is a great honor."
"An honor," Muriel echoed, her lips curled with disappointment. "Is everything in your relationship with him only that – an honor? I had truly thought you would be more affected by marriage to Nicholas the man than by marriage to Nicholas the king."
"But he is the greatest king in Cypress's history - perhaps in any nation's history," Mayfair said, surprised. "I have admired him with my whole being from the moment I first knew who he was."
"Love is stronger than cold reverence."
For a moment, Mayfair wasn't sure how to reply. "Why do you again speak of love?"
Muriel leaned forward, looking her earnestly in the eye. "Please tell me... honestly... do you love Nicholas at all?"
There it was. Yet Mayfair could sense no duplicity nor political motive behind Muriel's friendly manner. And she remembered the advice Nick had stressed to her: "Muriel is a romantic at heart. Love, heroism, and poetic justice interest her more than the good of her nation, though she nonetheless devotes more effort to the latter." (She remembered the fondness in his voice as he'd said it, and felt a sting of remorse that she had prevented his marrying her.) That meant she could divert Muriel's attention by speaking frankly of love.
She gave a heavy sigh. "I think every woman who knows him must love him, in one way or another. Don't you feel something for him yourself?"
Muriel smiled. "What do my feelings matter? I'm not the one fortunate enough to be married to him."
Taking a bite of bread, Mayfair felt a lump in her throat. "What good is it to be married to him," she let out with a breath of emotion. "...when it is nothing more than a marriage of duty?"
After weeping her last for her father, Mayfair almost never shed tears. Nick seemed to have a knack for forcing them from her, however. She was prepared to fight the urge to cry. It did not come. Her composure remained calm and dignified without any effort on her part.
Muriel watched her. "You mean that," she concluded. "You truly believe he is not in love with you."
"I know it. And you know it, because he told you. We discussed this before."
She shook her head. "Nick is playing a double deception. As you said, it makes a good image for your people for the two of you to be in love, so he allows that to show in public. But then there's the rest of the world to think of. He doesn't want his political rivals to know he is vulnerable to love, and he's made you an unwitting part of that deception. I suppose he doesn't think he can rely on you to lie."
It was difficult to restrain her anger at Muriel's presumptuousness and readiness to believe she did not know her own husband's feelings. But she could hear her king urging her to deceive, and the opportunity in front of her clicked. Instead of refuting Muriel's assertion, she said, "How do you know?"
"Please don't take offense, but I don't see why he would have married you otherwise. There were better options for queen available."
She pretended to consider for a moment before replying, "I suppose that's so," though she had little doubt that it wasn't. Nick had judged her the best choice, and his judgment of Cypress's best interests was nearly (perhaps even completely) infallible.
They ate in silence for a few moments.
Muriel watched her, her eyes revealing deep thought. "You are not heartened to know that he does care for you?"
"What does it matter, if he never shows it?"
The princess nodded, then said softly, like a young girl conspiring with her best friend, "You can make him show it."
"...What do you mean?"
"Simply demonstrate to him that if he doesn't treat you as a man should treat his love, he'll lose you."
"Lose me?" The corner of her mouth twitched, unsure whether or not to show her amusement at Muriel's suggestion. "Your Highness, we're married. How can he possibly 'lose me'?"
"He can lose your affections. If he truly loves you, that would be worse for him than not being married to you at all." She cocked her head slightly - a movement not at all fitting her usual grace. "And please, call me Muriel."
"Well... Muriel... I'm afraid that wouldn't be any different. You see, I've never shown such affections towards Nicholas..." She took a nibble of bread. It occurred to her that, oddly enough, she hadn't told a single actual lie about her feelings for Nick yet. She had only said that she loved him "in one way or another", which was perfectly true.
Muriel blinked. "You're saying... he doesn't know about your feelings, either? That's... well... it's almost cliché." After a moment, her face became eager again. "But the solution is simple. You promised you would write to Nicholas, did you not?"
"Yes..."
"Well, there is your perfect opportunity. You should have no trouble telling him how you feel for him in a letter!" She leaned forward. "Tell him everything. Tell him that being apart from him like this has made it impossible for you to deny your feelings any longer, that now you must admit the truth. Tell him how much it hurts you that he doesn't love you back, even now that you're carrying his child."
Mayfair studied the princess. She's probably sincere, but she may also be hoping that Nick will break my heart. She didn't give much reason for thinking he's in love with me; maybe she doesn't really believe that he is. And heartache could make me a weaker diplomatic opponent. Though it's far more likely that she means to ingratiate herself by bringing the two of us together, of course. Either way, I should refuse. Though he's never shown me true affection, as a whole Nick has been very considerate to me throughout our relationship. Repaying him with emotional blackmail at a time when he is already under such pressure from the situation with Emild would be cruel.
She gave a sigh. "Nicholas isn't the sort to bend to feelings. It wouldn't work."
"Don't give up so easily," Muriel said brightly, finishing off her breakfast. "We'll talk it over more at the palace. I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can find the right words to make your Nicholas come around."
"Enough delay," Jengh hissed at the manacled high priest. "Where is the key?"
Leifo shook his head nervously. "Trust me, you don't want to see what's behind that door. I assure you, neither Deanna nor Amelo is there."
"Trust you? You assure me?" Jengh laughed. "I take that as all the more reason to believe that they are in there. We have orders from the capital to search this shrine, and if you impede that..."
"Alright... alright." Leifo took a heavy breath. "But you'll have to take me with you."
"That was part of the plan already, high priest."
Leifo opened the door, trembling. He told himself that this was not a betrayal of Iom. Jengh's men could well have found where he kept the key on their own. At least this way, there was a chance that he could fulfill Iom's plan without his associate's help. He stepped forward, a lizardman guard on each side and one behind him, with Jengh bringing up the rear.
"What is this strange chill?" Jengh asked as they proceeded.
"I honestly don't know," he replied. Jengh snorted.
After a few seconds, he could feel the chill deepen; they were close now. "There, see?" Leifo said nervously. "Neither Deanna nor Prince Amelo are here. Now can we -"
"Who is that back there," Jengh snarled. "...in the darkness?"
An icy sigh came from the place Jengh had indicated. "Ah... visitors. So you've managed to come this far. Most interesting. ...Who am I, did you ask? You may call me Charron." It didn't surprise Leifo to hear him use a false name.
"Leifo worked hard enough to keep us away from you." Jengh stepped forward. "I'll wager that means either you know something about where to find Deanna and Amelo, or you're proof that our high priest here has been up to no good."
"Is that so? Well, I refuse to speak on either matter. What shall you do?"
Leifo's guards continued to push him forward, making him tremble and sweat all over as they neared his associate. "Please! Lieutenant Jengh, we aren't supposed to get this close..." By Iom, we're close enough to see him now!
The sight of Charron was even more fearful that his chill aura and near emotionless voice. A fleshless body of chipped and hardened bones scraped its feet along the stones of the floor.
"What sort of creature are you?" Jengh snarled. "Some undead monstrosity?"
"Not precisely, my dear lieutenant. Iom maintains a semblance of my life in this form. Come closer, and I can demonstrate to you that this is our god's work, not high priest Leifo's."
Jengh reached for the creature's neck. "You'll demonssstrate to me where I can find Deanna and Prince Amelo! Or-"
Charron snatched his arm with a bony hand, and Jengh gasped, his whole body stiffening up. Leifo gasped as Jengh's men seized him more roughly, one of them holding a dagger to his neck.
The dead creature chuckled. "You lizardmen leaders are so predictable. In your arrogance, you approach yourself rather than let one of your men take the risk for you. I don't doubt that your kind's foolishness contributed to Iom's defeat by Cypress."
Jengh's teeth clenched, though Leifo couldn't tell if it was in pain or anger. "My men and I would rather die than have defended Warderer, fool!"
"Ah, so you're one of General Hindel's traitorous underlings, then? You know, it would be quite easy for me to suck up your life force, now that I have you in my hand. It would help feed my magical energies." He jerked his head at Jengh's men. "Or you could release our high priest."
"You let go of lieutenant Jengh firssst!" the lizardman holding Leifo hissed.
"While his men are in control of this shrine? Don't be absurd. You lose nothing by letting Leifo go."
With a sour look, the lizardman released him. He rubbed at his arms, which were beginning to fiercely ache.
"Very good," Charron said. "Now, let's see. I could turn Jengh into one of the undead with some altering of his life force, turning him into my slave... but I don't think such a deception would last for long. One of his men would notice the difference. Besides, if I simply tell you where to find Deanna and Amelo, you'll follow my orders of your own will, won't you, my dear lieutenant?"
Jengh cringed as the creature scraped a finger along his arm, tearing through scales until reptile blood dripped out, but he could not break free of its deathly grip. "What do you want?" he demanded.
"Only the security of this shrine, lieutenant. In a week or two, several prisoners will be delivered here to be sacrificed to Iom. Ensure that they are handed over to High Priest Leifo, and I will tell you where to find those you seek."
"We will not..." He struggled briefly against the tightness of Charron's grip. "...not deliver our allies to be sacrificed."
"Oh no, lieutenant, these prisoners are not Iomites. They are being brought from Cypress, Sharland, and Emild."
"Quite a collection. But we don't have time to wait for their arrival."
"Ah, of course. Well, then, I see no reason not to tell you where to find them right now. You are a loyal servant of Iom, are you not?"
By Iom, Leifo realized. He's really going to tell them. "You... traitor! You would betray our rightful king just so you can complete this absurd ritual of yours!?"
"Leifo. Please. Aside from the fact that they have a reasonable chance of finding Amelo without our help, our god cares nothing for royal bloodlines. I would be a traitor to allow the great ritual to be prevented. And unless you intend to waste your trump card attacking me and some Iomite soldiers, you have no say in the matter. Lieutenant Jengh, you agree to my terms?"
The lizardman nodded, though not without a glint of revulsion for the dead creature who still held him. "Of course. I wish for the good of our god as well."
"Good." Charron released his grip, and Jengh stepped away from him. "You see, Leifo? Politics may divide us, but we are all united in our worship of Iom. Now, tell him where you had Amelo sent to."
Leifo heaved a heavy sigh. Iom, have I failed you again? Is Amelo the only hope of... No; I can't think like that. If this were not Iom's will, he would have prevented my associate from doing it. And if this "ritual" my associate wishes to conduct is the best way to perform your will, Iom, then I will willingly aid it.
The welcoming party in Sharland's capital was quite impressive, by Mayfair's estimation. It made sense, when she thought about it; this would be the first time a member of the Cypress royal family had visited Sharland since the death of King Gadrios. Still, sensible or no, it was a bit embarrassing to be surrounded by reams of flower bearers and colorful ribbons falling from windows overhead.
She was careful not to let her discomfort show to Muriel. The woman did seem to be becoming sincerely friendly, but even if it wasn't an act, that did not rule out the danger of leaving the impression that she was weak. Nick would be very displeased if she allowed that to happen.
The carriage pulled up to the front gate of the castle and stopped, allowing Muriel, Mayfair, and Muriel's attendants to get off. Stepping up to the gate, they found Prince Saul and a woman of impressive beauty waiting for them.
Muriel allowed her guest to take the lead. When she stepped before Saul, he took Mayfair's hand, flashed her a friendly glance, gave an earnest bow of the head, and knelt briefly to kiss her hand. "Welcome to Sharland, Your Majesty," he said. "I do hope your trip was comfortable. Are you familiar with my wife, the Princess Caroline?"
Mayfair shook her head, nodding in greeting to the woman. "Actually, I have not had the pleasure. This is my first visit to Sharland, and unless I'm mistaken, Her Highness has never ventured outside Sharland."
"Indeed, you are not mistaken," Caroline answered, regarding Mayfair in the manner of one regarding a horse of less than satisfactory quality. The look angered Mayfair, not out of personal offense, but at the soulless elitism it suggested. "I've looked forward to having you with us."
Saul spoke up, "I'm sorry that my father couldn't be here to greet you; he's terribly busy at the moment. Nothing so important as showing proper hospitality to a guest of your stature, of course, but all of it rather urgent. Father has a tendency to procrastinate, I'm afraid." His mouth curled into an apologetic(and rather graceful, Mayfair couldn't help but note) smile.
"I'm quite satisfied to have you and Muriel as hosts, good sir. Your sister speaks very highly of you."
His smile evened out, and his jaw twitched with a faint but very good-humored chuckle. "Ah, but her judgment is not to be trusted; dear Muriel is very fond of her brothers, as I'm sure you've surmised. What does His Majesty King Nicholas the Second have to say about me? His is the word that you're trusting, I'm sure."
"Saul, the eldest, is as intelligent as Muriel, and certainly the most cunning of the three," Nick had told her. "Most people, if you establish the right sort of familiarity with them, will willingly expose their chief motivations after but a handful of conversations. Even I am this way. Saul is different. He seems loyal to his country and loving towards his family - both the one he was born to and the one created by his marriage - but what it is that most drives him, I cannot determine. My father himself couldn't completely understand Saul. I don't look forward to the day when he inherits the throne of Sharland."
Mayfair returned his smile. "He has a great deal of respect for you. The only major difference between his opinion of you and Muriel's is that he did not think that I would like you."
"Ah. Well, I shall do my best to prove him wrong." He bowed his head to her again. "Please come in, then, Your Majesty, and the servants will show you to your quarters."
As Mayfair stepped inside the castle, the servants he had referred to bowed to her and turned to lead her upstairs. Behind her, she heard Saul and his wife greet Muriel. It made her take note of how structured the formal protocol was in Sharland. As Nick had told her, high-ranking visitors were to be greeted one at a time, with guests taking priority, which was why Saul had had to wait until he could embrace or even acknowledge his sister. Guests were also to be immediately shown their quarters, regardless of time of day or any formalities yet undealt with.
It all struck her as a bit unnecessary, but that was not for her to judge. She followed the servants down the halls without a word.