I see the queen contemplating this. I can’t even imagine what it does to her, to be betrayed so publicly and often. Finally, she nods. “I think I shall offer to foster Lady Isiline’s son.”
I shake my head. “If I may be so bold, Your Royal Highness, I would suggest not. Even if the boy doesn’t favor him now, he might come to do so later, and that could be tragic. It’s best if they are not seen together, preferably never, if that should come to pass. I am certain that a quiet request from you would be enough to ensure the boy is placed somewhere safe. Find another family to take him and raise him with love and kindness.”
Queen Grethe nods. “That seems wise.” A bitter laugh escapes her for a moment. “If all the lords here traded their suspected bastards, I doubt more than ten children in this room would remain with their current families. While many ladies here pretend to great virtue, very few actually have it.”
Agreeing with her, I nod. “It might be better for everyone, even the children, if they did so, and better for your own, Your Royal Highness. How much loyalty is burned up by being forced to trade your body for your husband’s advancement? How much can a mother’s love withstand when the very child is the physical manifestation of her predicament with her husband? These abused children will become the lords that your sons will have to contend with. If they should figure out why their fathers treated them so, your own sons may well face their wrath for it.”
Frowning, Queen Grethe looks at me and gestures for me to explain, so I do. “I do not know much of the customs here, but I will tell you a story from my own kingdom. Our old king, Myanthar, was a royal bastard. He was born Myanthar Faesalor because Llhoris Wynric liked bouncing all the females on his lap, much like someone else we know.”
I hear Queen Grethe’s snort of amusement at my description. “Deulara Faesalor was by all accounts a great beauty, and Llhoris was a bit obsessed with her, much to her husband, Erendriel’s dismay. When Deulara finally had a child, Erendriel was incensed. He was certain that the girl wasn’t his, so he sent the child away to be raised by some of Deulara’s relatives. When the next child was born, looking almost exactly like Llhoris, Erendriel must have lost a bit of his mind. He refused to send the boy away and delighted in torturing both Myanthar and Deulara, often together, if the stories are to be believed. His special thing was to use one to torture the other. Erendriel delighted in finding new, cruel ways to taunt them. Myanthar grew up, never knowing why his father had a complicated love/hate relationship with him. When he got a little older, his father started abusing him in more… physical ways. First with beatings, but later on… it was by other means.”
Queen Grethe sighs sadly. “I could see Lord Geil doing something similar.”
I smile at her. “This story is far from over, Your Royal Highness. After spending years being assaulted by his father in every sense of that word, young Myanthar finds himself at court one day. One of the courtiers casually asked if he was there to petition Lloris to change his last name to Wynric. When Myanthar asked why he would petition to be named Wynric, he was told that it was common knowledge that Lloris was his father. Another fool added that everyone knew Erendriel was abominable to him and Deulara. Dutifully, Myanthar puts his name down to speak with Lloris. Myanthar, instead of petitioning Lloris, challenged him and won, claiming the kingship for himself. Once the duel was over, Myanthar promptly turned on everyone – slaughtering Deulara, Erendriel, the queen, all of Lloris’s children, a huge swath of the court, and about a third of the extended royal family that day. He was irate that everyone knew and no one did anything to help him. That was before he started systematically hunting down and killing everyone who had known how Erendriel abused him and that Lloris was his father. Anyone who was so much as accused of knowing those two things was put to death.”
“I take your point,” Queen Grethe replies. “I will try speaking with my husband again about some of his… less desirable habits.”
Continuing to observe Kenric and Lord Eldert, I nod. “It’s clear that Eldert is quite fond of Kenric and proof that fostering isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
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The queen nods. “Eldert was good friends with Kenric’s father, Othmar. When Othmar died, Eldert took Kenric in to raise. Kenric is the son Eldert never had, and Eldert was the father Kenric needed when Othmar was gone.”
I glance over at the queen, debating whether I dare to ask her. She notices my internal hesitation and chuckles. “I can tell you want to ask me something. Go ahead. Ask it. I’ll answer if I can.”
Taking a deep breath, I do.”Any advice on dealing with your husband, Your Royal Highness?”
This amuses her greatly.”That wasn’t what I was expecting. On avoiding him, you mean?”
I shrug.”I was hoping to get him to lose interest or even scare him off. I’d happily puke on his shoes if you think it would work.”
Queen Grethe smirks at me for a moment before she shrugs.”I can’t think of what would put him off. I’ve never seen that work for anyone. Trust me, many have tried various ways to deter him. Losing interest is unlikely until someone newer catches his eye. One reason our court is so large is that there’s always a shiny new bauble to attract his attention. That keeps him from becoming too attached to any other bauble except me.”
I nod, understanding now why this relatively small kingdom has such a huge court. It’s a smart strategy for dealing with a king who has a wandering eye, roving hands, and a taste for novelty.
Queen Grethe continues. “As for avoiding him, leave the castle. He generally can’t go outside it. Leave the castle as often as you can and stay away for as long as possible. Go shopping. Visit the art galleries and performances. Make some friends and attend parties. Never use the same entrance or exit twice in a row or in a pattern. Stick to female-only activities when you must stay here during the day. Always lock your doors when you’re in your rooms. Keep your ladies close at all times. I’ll send you a map which I suggest you memorize so you can take different routes back to your rooms. Make sure to sleep armed.”
I laugh at this last bit. “Your Royal Highness, I always sleep armed. I have for many years. It helps with my nightmares.”
Kenric’s smell helps more, but that’s none of her concern. Being completely unarmed makes me nervous, so I am not. Even here, standing next to this queen. Many of the things I carry would likely get her guards executed if they were found near her, but I am not here to kill a queen. I’d rather be her friend. Queen Grethe gives me an odd look.
I think she’s uncertain how to interpret that, so I distract her with another question. “Would it make a difference if Kenric and I were already married?”
Queen Grethe frowns at this. “Why get married a second time to the same man, then?”
Rolling my eyes, I explain. “In order for my king to accept the trade agreement, Kenric and I were married there.”
She shushes me. “Not another word to anyone about that. Not even me. The only thing protecting you right now is his belief that you are unsullied and must remain so until after the wedding night with Kenric. Otherwise, he’d be here like one of those herding dogs, trying to push you away from the rest of us so he can drag you off somewhere private. You’ve got some time to memorize the layout of the castle, the grounds, the entrances, and exits. Use it to your advantage. If you can hold out until the next shiny bauble comes along, he’ll be done with you.”
Since most of what Ina said was similar advice, I decide it’s probably accurate. It also seems quite reasonable to me, but I have one last question. “I don’t suppose that if we were to start a friendship, that would give him any pause, Your Royal Highness?”
For the first time, Queen Grethe’s face tightens slightly, and she shakes her head. “No. If it goes anything like it did last time someone tried that, he’d have you in front of me to rub my nose in how powerless I am against him.”
Without thinking, I murmur, “Gods above, that’s a heartless thing to do to your spouse.”
Queen Grethe nods. “I had to clean her up. I had to dry her tears. I had to fix her clothing. I had to take her back to her father. My best friend since childhood, raped and abused, just because she was my best friend. We no longer speak, nor do I blame her.”
I sigh and shake my head in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. How tragic for both of you. Thank you for sharing it with me. If he tries to force me, you might well become Queen Dowager. I swear only one of us would survive such an encounter. I would do my best to ensure that it’s myself.”
Queen Grethe snorts and eyes me. I know what she’s thinking. Oskar is easily twice my size, maybe three times. Oskar is male and looks sturdy. I am a female, petite, and appear fragile. I’m not the fragile she perceives. It’s more accurate to say handle with care, not because I am breakable, but because I might burn down the world if I get angry enough. For those of us who control fire, emotion and magic often intertwine. Yes, it’s a palace, but not built to hold a Fey. I can walk through your stone walls.
I would carve a path out of here for Kenric, and we would leave, never to return.
I meet her eyes, calm and steady. “I spent years fighting in our border wars, Your Royal Highness. I have hunted and been hunted by things far worse than your husband. I have fought with those things, and I am still on this side of the veil.”
Queen Grethe begins to say something, then chuckles. “I almost believed you, for a moment.”
She should. I am Lawful Fey. I cannot lie. Instead, I shrug.
I can’t force people to believe me, and I’m smart enough not to try. “I am indebted to you for your kindness. My oath to you is binding. Fey do not make oaths lightly. Ask your trade delegation about the day I met Kenric. I believe they were present when Ellisar and I had our shouting match, Your Royal Highness. I’m certain that if you ask them, they will tell you all about it.” Queen Grethe looks up and sees someone signaling to her
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