“Is this…really the time to speak about this?” Ariza asks hesitantly. “We should be focusing on helping Khan. Poor boy.”
“Roza has never been one for tact,” Eleanor adds but Alana’s mother is unphased.
“There is no time to waste and Alana isn’t the only one who needs to prove herself to the people, my lord.” Roza’s face remains stoic but her voice reveals her growing excitement. “Khan’s actions reflect badly on you particularly. Your judgment. There were many that said you should have exiled Khan when he refused to fight in the campaigns. If you had, none of this would have happened. People will remember that.”
“They will also remember the blood I have spilled for Victory,” the duke grumbles unhappily.
“Yes. That is why they will not behead you for incompetence. However, if you want them to follow you, and you need them to follow you without question, then you should do something to earn that trust. Having one of your potential heirs betraying Victory to the enemy is devastating to your and this family’s reputation. Having your named heiress apprehend her own brother to protect Victory…that is inspirational.”
“Mm.”
“There is no better choice, my lord.”
“It—"
“Wait a minute!” Alana slaps the table angrily as she stands up. “The two of you need to stop deciding things for me!” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Let’s get something straightened out. I don’t want to be and have no intentions of becoming duchess.”
That gets her parents’ attention. Especially her mother’s. Her stern facade shatters like a fist put through glass. “Sweetheart, you—"
“I told you not to call me that,” she snaps. “Father, Lou and I will do what we can while we’re here. Of course, that means writing a report that contains everything we know. What we won’t be doing is wasting our time here trying to accomplish the impossible. We have our own plans and they do not include a reckless charge against enemies who are more informed and, given Victory’s many losses, stronger than we are.”
“And if I were to make it an order?” her father questions.
“…you’ll just be making a hard situation harder.”
“Alana,” her mother hisses. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I do. I think I’m the only one who does understand the situation. I’m also not the only one trying to push my own agenda.”
“My agenda is the future of Victory,” the duke says gruffly. “It is my primary concern. It must always be my primary concern. If that is not something you can understand, then perhaps you are right to refuse the role of leadership.”
She flinches at the words. I restrain the urge to grab her hand for comfort.
“I cannot force you or your bannerwoman to follow orders. That is not our way. The chance of recovering Khan’s memories is close to impossible. Someone who is not completely dedicated to a cause cannot challenge the impossible. All my heirs must make their own decisions. And those decisions have consequences.”
He moves toward the door without sparing anyone else a glance. “I’ll expect your report in the morning. As well as your answer.” He sweeps from the room, leaving tense air in his wake. Ariza almost leaps from her chair in her haste to follow, Eleanor trailing them at a more sedate pace. I suppose the duke always has the last word.
Alana drops into her chair, covering her face with her hands as she takes slow breaths. Her shaking shoulders are nearly imperceptible.
I quietly move behind her and gently rub her back. That had to be hard. Harder than anything she’s ever done. And she did it for me. For us. She chose us. The question always lingered in the back of my mind and now I have my answer. Are there a few lingering doubts, like whether she’s doing this because the dragon scale we found scares her more than her father? Yes, but I’m ignoring them. I choose to believe this is an act of love and nothing will convince me otherwise.
“You little idiot.”
Alana doesn’t look up but I turn to her mother. Her deeply frowning mother who is very upset but still trying to control herself. Her face speaks of anger but her voice holds confusion. “We’d finally done it. Victory was right there for the taking. All you had to do was say yes and you would be Duchess Alana James of Victory in a decade or less. A decade, Alana, and you are the most powerful woman in the kingdom.”
“True power has nothing to do with a title,” Alana mumbles through her palms.
“I suppose that’s something the Hall has taught you,” her mother says sarcastically. “A place where all are equal in the pursuit of magic. But you know very well, daughter, that people are not equal. A last name is the difference between a ruler and a servant. A last name is the difference between a girl marrying into power or working her fingers to the bone for the slightest amount of influence. A last name is the difference between being born with talent or being destined to be trash. I thought experiencing the harsh reality of servitude would make you appreciate your last name, give you a little ambition. I couldn’t have predicted that the daughter between me and that cold bastard would be silly enough to give it all away for a fling.”
A fling? I suppose that is supposed to be me. Funny, she had no complaints about our relationship when she thought I was useful to helping her daughter succeed the family.
“I don’t want to talk about this now.”
One look is enough to tell me that Alana isn’t ready for round two against her family, even if she hadn’t spoken. I think this is when I make the command decision to intervene.
“Come on,” I whisper as I help Alana to her feet. She, no, we need space.
“May I ask what your plan is, Lady Tome?” Her mother continues, tone growing harsher with every word. “What glorious future have you enthralled her with to invalidate two separate lifetimes of effort? Better than being the queen of the north? Because frankly, I can’t imagine it.”
“Maybe because you have a very limited imagination,” I return. “I don’t blame you. Constant dreary skies and endless snow don’t exactly stoke the creative spirit. I can think of a hundred better fates than being stuck in this place.”
“A hundred?” Kierra says, also rising from her chair. She comes around the table to stand at Alana’s other side. She doesn’t put out a hand to support her, more sensitive to my future saint’s stoicism than me, but her hovering says she’s ready to in a moment. “I can think of a thousand.” She gives Roza a dismissive glance. “Your presence makes it rather easy.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure the foreigner has better plans for a daughter of the north than leading her people. If I remember, your people still had your home after the Great War. I wonder if you can even understand what it means to struggle against an enemy for five centuries. I wonder, with your pure affinity and your last name, if you understand struggle at all.”
This woman is so completely wrong, I can’t even laugh at her. Elves live for nothing but struggle, though they revel in it. She thinks Kierra’s life hasn’t been hard? She spent two decades alone after being ripped from her life, imprisoned by her own mother who was more than willing to hold her captive indefinitely. Given my wife’s affinity, that could have truly been forever. A fact she was very aware of.
I wouldn’t blame my elf for laughing in the woman’s face. Or slapping her for the insult. She does not like when people make light of the trials the elves faced during the Great War. I know nobles who would do a lot worse for a lot less.
For Alana’s sake, I have to assume, Kierra lets the vindictive words run off her. Roza does not take the leniency with grace. “Decades of effort. Seducing that block of ice Erenhart. Pulling strings to get you noticed after his beloved son died. Building support for you amongst the laborers, as there was no way the oh so superior knights would support you over Eleanor’s children. All to give you the best. And you throw it away.”
“I used to want the same thing as you, mother,” Alana mutters. “Because I thought it was the best thing for me. Now I know there’s something better.”
“Oh, yes. Being a low noble’s mistress. Quite the future you’ve made for yourself. I am practically bursting with pride.”
“We’re leaving,” I hiss, grabbing Alana’s arm and pulling her toward the door.
“Is this…really the time to speak about this?” Ariza asks hesitantly. “We should be focusing on helping Khan. Poor boy.”
“Roza has never been one for tact,” Eleanor adds but Alana’s mother is unphased.
“There is no time to waste and Alana isn’t the only one who needs to prove herself to the people, my lord.” Roza’s face remains stoic but her voice reveals her growing excitement. “Khan’s actions reflect badly on you particularly. Your judgment. There were many that said you should have exiled Khan when he refused to fight in the campaigns. If you had, none of this would have happened. People will remember that.”
“They will also remember the blood I have spilled for Victory,” the duke grumbles unhappily.
“Yes. That is why they will not behead you for incompetence. However, if you want them to follow you, and you need them to follow you without question, then you should do something to earn that trust. Having one of your potential heirs betraying Victory to the enemy is devastating to your and this family’s reputation. Having your named heiress apprehend her own brother to protect Victory…that is inspirational.”
“Mm.”
“There is no better choice, my lord.”
“It—"
“Wait a minute!” Alana slaps the table angrily as she stands up. “The two of you need to stop deciding things for me!” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Let’s get something straightened out. I don’t want to be and have no intentions of becoming duchess.”
That gets her parents’ attention. Especially her mother’s. Her stern facade shatters like a fist put through glass. “Sweetheart, you—"
“I told you not to call me that,” she snaps. “Father, Lou and I will do what we can while we’re here. Of course, that means writing a report that contains everything we know. What we won’t be doing is wasting our time here trying to accomplish the impossible. We have our own plans and they do not include a reckless charge against enemies who are more informed and, given Victory’s many losses, stronger than we are.”
“And if I were to make it an order?” her father questions.
“…you’ll just be making a hard situation harder.”
“Alana,” her mother hisses. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I do. I think I’m the only one who does understand the situation. I’m also not the only one trying to push my own agenda.”
“My agenda is the future of Victory,” the duke says gruffly. “It is my primary concern. It must always be my primary concern. If that is not something you can understand, then perhaps you are right to refuse the role of leadership.”
She flinches at the words. I restrain the urge to grab her hand for comfort.
“I cannot force you or your bannerwoman to follow orders. That is not our way. The chance of recovering Khan’s memories is close to impossible. Someone who is not completely dedicated to a cause cannot challenge the impossible. All my heirs must make their own decisions. And those decisions have consequences.”
He moves toward the door without sparing anyone else a glance. “I’ll expect your report in the morning. As well as your answer.” He sweeps from the room, leaving tense air in his wake. Ariza almost leaps from her chair in her haste to follow, Eleanor trailing them at a more sedate pace. I suppose the duke always has the last word.
Alana drops into her chair, covering her face with her hands as she takes slow breaths. Her shaking shoulders are nearly imperceptible.
I quietly move behind her and gently rub her back. That had to be hard. Harder than anything she’s ever done. And she did it for me. For us. She chose us. The question always lingered in the back of my mind and now I have my answer. Are there a few lingering doubts, like whether she’s doing this because the dragon scale we found scares her more than her father? Yes, but I’m ignoring them. I choose to believe this is an act of love and nothing will convince me otherwise.
“You little idiot.”
Alana doesn’t look up but I turn to her mother. Her deeply frowning mother who is very upset but still trying to control herself. Her face speaks of anger but her voice holds confusion. “We’d finally done it. Victory was right there for the taking. All you had to do was say yes and you would be Duchess Alana James of Victory in a decade or less. A decade, Alana, and you are the most powerful woman in the kingdom.”
“True power has nothing to do with a title,” Alana mumbles through her palms.
“I suppose that’s something the Hall has taught you,” her mother says sarcastically. “A place where all are equal in the pursuit of magic. But you know very well, daughter, that people are not equal. A last name is the difference between a ruler and a servant. A last name is the difference between a girl marrying into power or working her fingers to the bone for the slightest amount of influence. A last name is the difference between being born with talent or being destined to be trash. I thought experiencing the harsh reality of servitude would make you appreciate your last name, give you a little ambition. I couldn’t have predicted that the daughter between me and that cold bastard would be silly enough to give it all away for a fling.”
A fling? I suppose that is supposed to be me. Funny, she had no complaints about our relationship when she thought I was useful to helping her daughter succeed the family.
“I don’t want to talk about this now.”
One look is enough to tell me that Alana isn’t ready for round two against her family, even if she hadn’t spoken. I think this is when I make the command decision to intervene.
“Come on,” I whisper as I help Alana to her feet. She, no, we need space.
“May I ask what your plan is, Lady Tome?” Her mother continues, tone growing harsher with every word. “What glorious future have you enthralled her with to invalidate two separate lifetimes of effort? Better than being the queen of the north? Because frankly, I can’t imagine it.”
“Maybe because you have a very limited imagination,” I return. “I don’t blame you. Constant dreary skies and endless snow don’t exactly stoke the creative spirit. I can think of a hundred better fates than being stuck in this place.”
“A hundred?” Kierra says, also rising from her chair. She comes around the table to stand at Alana’s other side. She doesn’t put out a hand to support her, more sensitive to my future saint’s stoicism than me, but her hovering says she’s ready to in a moment. “I can think of a thousand.” She gives Roza a dismissive glance. “Your presence makes it rather easy.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure the foreigner has better plans for a daughter of the north than leading her people. If I remember, your people still had your home after the Great War. I wonder if you can even understand what it means to struggle against an enemy for five centuries. I wonder, with your pure affinity and your last name, if you understand struggle at all.”
This woman is so completely wrong, I can’t even laugh at her. Elves live for nothing but struggle, though they revel in it. She thinks Kierra’s life hasn’t been hard? She spent two decades alone after being ripped from her life, imprisoned by her own mother who was more than willing to hold her captive indefinitely. Given my wife’s affinity, that could have truly been forever. A fact she was very aware of.
I wouldn’t blame my elf for laughing in the woman’s face. Or slapping her for the insult. She does not like when people make light of the trials the elves faced during the Great War. I know nobles who would do a lot worse for a lot less.
For Alana’s sake, I have to assume, Kierra lets the vindictive words run off her. Roza does not take the leniency with grace. “Decades of effort. Seducing that block of ice Erenhart. Pulling strings to get you noticed after his beloved son died. Building support for you amongst the laborers, as there was no way the oh so superior knights would support you over Eleanor’s children. All to give you the best. And you throw it away.”
“I used to want the same thing as you, mother,” Alana mutters. “Because I thought it was the best thing for me. Now I know there’s something better.”
“Oh, yes. Being a low noble’s mistress. Quite the future you’ve made for yourself. I am practically bursting with pride.”
“We’re leaving,” I hiss, grabbing Alana’s arm and pulling her toward the door.
