16: A Consort’s Preparations

Chapter 16: A Consort's Preparations

The Time: Present Day (720 A.E.)

The Place: The Palace of Mujal, Tsimeda, the Kingdom of Saimr

The food Adanias has brought is good. Better than good, actually. It’s Ari’s favorite dish: chicken walnut soup served alongside several hearty slices of warm rye bread and herbed butter, so very like her amma used to make. She must have mentioned it to Velnyr at some point, though she can’t recall having done it now.

She shovels it down her gullet so quickly and violently all the old biddies from her village would have fainted to see it. She hadn’t realized until just now exactly how starved she feels, and she hasn’t had this soup in ages—whoever made it (not Velnyr, whose many talents do not extend to the kitchen) has access to finer implements and higher-quality ingredients than her amma did, but the flavor is still eye-wateringly nostalgic. Besides, the more she focuses on her meal, the less she focuses on… everything else.

Adanias talks while she tears over the food at her desk like a rabid animal, his hands folded demurely over his abdomen while his two weird fuzzy little pedipalps rub together like a shy maiden twiddling her thumbs.

“Esteemed Consort,” he begins, “please allow this servant to impart the information Most Holy instructed this one to pass on, and then this servant will… attempt to answer Your Excellency’s questions.”

He doesn’t sound enormously confident in his ability to provide satisfying answers, and Ari can’t blame him: the questions she has really aren’t for him.

(Also, she’s Your Excellency now? She’s collecting new titles like rocks from a streambed!)

“O’ay,” Her Excellency Ari Megradzi says through a mouthful of buttered bread. Adanias, politely, does not grimace.

“First, there is the matter of the Rites of Devotion,” he says. “The opening ceremony will commence in just four days’ time, and Most Holy wishes for Your Excellency to be suitably prepared, such that Your Excellency might appear publicly as Most Holy’s honorable bride-to-be.”

Ari chokes on a bread crust. Adanias scuttles around to pat her back with some alarm.

“Publicly…?” Ari wheezes.

Adanias passes her a cup of steaming tea, his pale brows pinched. “Yes. Most Holy… did not say…?”

Ari could spontaneously combust with the amount of sheer rage boiling in her guts. “Just assume,” she says tightly once her coughing fit passes, “that Most Holy hasn’t told me shit.”

To his great credit, Adanias only stares helplessly at her for a moment before stepping away to continue his spiel. “Then, ah… yes, Most Holy has made plans to that effect. She wishes for Your Excellency to appear at your best, as much as our limited time allows us the opportunity to prepare you.”

He smiles encouragingly. “This servant was informed that already Your Excellency performed wonderfully during your re-emergence, however! Word will spread quickly once the covens begin to mingle; we might rely upon the cogs of that wonderful machine to spread word of Your Excellency’s return to the fold.”

All of the hot, righteous anger burning Ari up inside suddenly cools and morphs into something cold and oily as the chaotic string of events over the past couple days begin to coalesce into a large and unpleasant picture. She raises a hand. Obediently, Adanias stops speaking, waiting for her to gather her words.

“Adanias,” she begins slowly. “Do you mean to say that… the queen staged that battle along the Royal Highway… to force me to reveal myself to the rest of my coven’s delegation?”

Adanias blinks guilelessly at her. “This humble servant of course has no place at Most Holy’s war table. This one is only a chamberlain.”

Ari just looks at him. “If you had to guess.”

“I dare not.”

Ari sets down her spoon and lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. Well. That would be just perfect, wouldn’t it? If this was Velnyr’s plan all along—if, for some fucking reason, she’d banked on making Ari her… her consort from the start (the very idea still feels so ridiculous she almost can’t look at it head-on), wouldn’t that all make sense? If she’d already planned to lure those Heavenborn outriders into combat, wouldn’t it just be logical to kill two birds with one stone and drag Ari’s coven into the fray so she had no choice but to out herself as Saint Batira?

Sure. Perfectly logical if everything about this wasn’t completely insane!

Her head is spinning. She still can’t make the pieces of this puzzle fit. There has to be a more suitable choice for divine fucking consort out there than a dead woman of mediocre accomplishment. Ari has far outlived her usefulness: any of the social cachet she might have accrued as Saint Batira, as the False Prophet’s wife, is buried and gone alongside the ashes of the Dawn. Even if it wasn’t—so what? The only people who would care about her old titles are already thoroughly under Velnyr’s control.

Ari has no money, no useful political connections, no illustrious pedigree. She might be godborn (distantly!), but you probably can’t throw a rock in elven high society without hitting godborn nobles of far thicker blood than hers. Her only redeeming feature is her magic, and what can she do that Velnyr cannot? Nothing! Not a damn thing!

No matter how she spins it, she can’t understand this. Velnyr has never been anything but cold and calculating. What benefit is there to naming Ari her consort? Is she trying to drive away all the ladder-climbing aristocrats who’d sacrifice their left arms for a chance at becoming even the God-Queen’s lowest concubine? She could dangle the open position of consort over their head for years longer! If her aim is only to pit the scions of those highborn houses against each other, surely leaving a spot at the top vacant is the surest path to success!

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Ari’s forehead strikes the edge of her desk with a thud. “She’s lost her mind,” she mumbles in a daze.

Nonsensical. Unbelievable! For a woman who unrepentantly turned her away when Ari attempted to confess her feelings years ago, she’s certainly flipped over a shiny new leaf!

Ari eventually lifts her head and takes a deep breath to center herself. She can’t understand what Velnyr is doing or why, but in her current position what choice does she have but to go along with it? If Velnyr wants to dress her up like a pretty doll and parade her in front of her entire court, what can she say but yes, Your Worship, this one is yours to do with as you please!

“Alright,” she says flatly. “What’s the rest?”

Adanias eyeballs her like he’s expecting her to suddenly implode, but Ari meets his gaze as steadily as she can manage.

“Well,” he continues cautiously, “Most Holy has carefully selected a number of experts to prime Your Excellency on those skills which will be most useful to you in the coming days: language, etiquette, history, culture, and so on. Allies and rivals from across the world have dispatched delegates to take Most Holy’s measure during this festival; Her consort must appear both worthy of the honor of Most Holy’s regard and prepared to take on all challengers who would seek to replace her.”

Ari counts to ten in her head before she replies. “So you’re saying a bunch of sour grapes will be trying to kill me.”

“Oh, naturally,” Adanias assures her. “It is our people’s most favored pastime, after all. Since Her birth, Most Holy has fielded offers of marriage from every notable family in Imtheria and many more from across the Worldrift. Your Excellency will face rivals from all corners. Most Holy will of course shield you as She can, but you must be seen as capable of standing on your own. Otherwise your position will never be secure, and you will never gain the respect of your people.”

Ari rubs her temples. “I have… four days to prepare for this.”

“Yes.”

She sends up a silent and wordless prayer to the Fell Empress and all eight Archons. Mostly it sounds like impassioned screaming.

Adanias gentles his tone at her obvious distress. “Do not fret overmuch, Your Excellency. Most Holy wishes for you to succeed. She has taken many steps to ensure you will do so. And if She did not believe you equal to the task, She would not have selected you to stand at Her side, yes?”

Ari doesn’t feel very equal to the task!!! Quite the opposite, in fact!

“You’ll meet the tutors Most Holy has selected first thing in the morning,” Adanias says. “Tonight, Your Excellency should focus on resting. Most Holy intends for you to dine with Her in the evenings after your lessons. Courage, Your Excellency. You have overcome greater challenges.”

Ari can’t say she feels especially reassured, but she appreciates the effort. She smiles warmly at Adanias despite the dread clogging her throat. “Hey, thank you. Really. Sorry I’ve been, ah… a bit frazzled. I wasn’t really expecting any of this, you know?”

Adanias bows his head magnanimously. “This servant is only glad to help. Now, is there anything else Your Excellency requires before I depart…?”

Ari sits up suddenly. “Oh! I was wondering—could you tell me if my coven is okay? Or—or could I… talk to them?”

My disciples, especially?

Adanias’s expression twists apologetically, which doesn’t seem promising. “This servant is not permitted to escort anyone, including Your Excellency, into or out of the royal apartments, but this one can assure you that your former comrades are well. You’ll surely see them during the festivities.”

Former. Ouch. Another nail in the coffin. But the reminder that she won’t be locked away in this gilded cage forever does lift her mood a bit… even if she can expect her reappearance to come with a bunch of knives aimed at her throat.

Once Ari finishes her meal, Adanias takes her empty dishes away and wishes her a pleasant evening.

She doesn’t have a very pleasant evening at all. She spends half of it tossing and turning in bed, examining everything Velnyr has done recently from every angle, before eventually even her tangled emotions can’t keep her awake.

She has a very nice dream of gallivanting around in the woods behind her family’s cottage chasing a cute little red fox, and she doesn’t notice the eyes in the shadows watching her wherever she goes.

***

“Sooo,” Mellie drawls as she prods the fat roasted mushrooms on her plate with a fork. “How did it go?”

In the elegant comfort of the servant’s croft beneath the royal apartments, Adanias sighs, nestling his bulbous abdomen on the nest of cushions arranged for just this purpose. “Not as well as I’d hoped, I’m afraid.”

Mellie grunts noncommittally. “What happened?”

He shrugs. “Most Holy… has left that poor girl quite in the dark.”

There’s a brief silence as Mellie pops a mushroom in her mouth and chews, face scrunched up in thought. “Yeah,” she finally says, “It’s weird. The whole thing is weird, but I guess she’s always been weird about that kid, so that tracks.”

Adanias rests his elbow on the edge of the low table, propping his chin on his upturned palm as he looks down at Mellie reproachfully. “Most Holy is not weird.”

Mellie raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Okay, dude.”

“She’s caught in the dust of the Season of All-Blooming,” he insists, “She’s only a romantic. Have you no appreciation for the great epics of old, which thrill at a love so consuming it devours one whole?”

Mellie’s eyebrow climbs higher. “Uh… Guess not. And anyway, you weren’t there when we took that little expedition to that mass grave in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, when the Boss Lady figured out she couldn’t find the kid’s soul. I’ve never seen anyone throw a temper tantrum like that in my life and I worked for Archmage Zhenarea for half a decade. I don’t think there’s anything left of that town but glass. Thank the gods everyone was already dead.”

Adanias, who Ari would have described as seeming perhaps a bit sensitive, only rolls his eyes faintly. “Not a drop of artistry in your soul.”

Mellie burps. “Nope. Anyway, what did you think of her?”

Adanias gives her a mildly disgusted look and leans back, though his expression quickly morphs from grossed-out to pensive. “Difficult to say, after such a short meeting during such a fraught period of her life. She seems…”

“Normal?” Mellie presses. “Like, totally average? Boring?”

Adanias sighs again. “You could stand to be a bit more sympathetic.”

Mellie throws her hands up. “Sorry! It’s just, after the way the Boss has been pining after her, I expected her to shit platinum, but… I dunno. She just looks like some girl to me.”

Adanias hums thoughtfully. “Well, give her time. If nothing else, her spiritual reserves are extraordinary. I felt her aura even through the wards.”

At this, Mellie perks up a bit. She polishes off the last mushroom on the plate and leans back, spreading her legs out beneath the table’s belly. “Oh, yeah, I noticed that too. I mean, I almost didn’t with her standing next to the Boss Lady and all, but I thought the air around her seemed pretty dense.”

“Mm. I don’t expect she’ll have much trouble with direct challenges, particularly once Lord Suyan returns with Varul, but…” Adanias rubs his lips contemplatively. “She’s a soft touch. It won’t take long for the consort-aspirants to figure out how to strike at her indirectly. Ah—on that note, do make sure that little clan of hers has an adequate guard posted around the clock now that more of the delegates are beginning to arrive, won’t you? I’d so hate for Most Holy’s surprise gift to be spoiled before She has a chance to deliver it…”