At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 10

For now, she had to concentrate on present matters.

The Princess had hooked their arms together, with a flash of a smile, guiding her away. A few guards shadowed them at a discreet distance as they made their way through the entryway and into the inside corridors. "You must have been through so much," she said, in a sympathetic tone. "I couldn't even imagine. How are you holding up? Do you need anything?"

"It's better now than it was before," she admitted readily, her eyes lighting up appreciatively for the show of concern. "Thank you for understanding, but I've learned how to make peace even in this."

Even those closest to him seemed distinctly aware of what he was. Strolling in apparent comfort alongside her sister-in-law, Alais reflected in silence for but a moment. She could no longer expect to say anything which did not have a non-trivial chance of reaching his ears. Even with this in mind, she ventured to quietly ask, "... will it get worse again, do you think?"

Her eyes were lowered to the smooth patterns on the floor, her features taking on a somber, ruminating quality. If the objective was to appear genuine, she should not force herself into a pretense of invulnerability. In the first place, it would have been both unbelievable and... unrealistic.

If all eyes were to be on her in short time, she supposed it would have been better to be a poor, harmless girl to be pitied than some wily fatale, if she had to choose. And of course, just because she supposedly loved him now, it did not mean that all reservations need be relinquished even in pretense.

Adeline cast a look of surprised confusion. "What will get worse?" she asked, turning slightly to observe her companion. "I was speaking of that dreadful assassination attempt, and of course your boating incident - which, indeed, I should hope would not happen again. Surely you weren't speaking of the King?"

Oh. Had she managed to offend the Princess already?

But Adeline only maintained her composure for all of a few moments, before subsiding into ladylike giggles, her free hand flying to cover her mouth. "No, no, of course. I understand. I'm very fond of my brother, but he can be such a brute sometimes with how he handles things. Negotiations with your grandfather could have accomplished just as much! But no, he had to swoop in and kidnap you, like some foul highwayman. Most improper. I can only imagine how he's been this last week or so."

A slightly abashed look lit her eyes, as she grasped Alais's arm with particular concern. "Oh, that was terrible of me. I shouldn't make light of it. Will you forgive me?" She seemed (seemed) genuinely concerned to have her intentions misconstrued. "You mustn't think I'm callous to your situation. Quite the opposite!"

"I had meant in general, but yes, that did include His Majesty." A hint of an apology touched Alais's smile, as though she could not help such critical thoughts even in this company, but neither would she deny it.

She even made to appear slightly alarmed for the Princess's own concern. Prompted to reassure, her free hand moved to pat her gently on the arm, her head shaking as she swept away all conjectures of offense. "Please don't worry. I'd... like to be friends with you all, but I see there's so much I've yet to understand."

She still managed to project a remarkable absence of any and all bitterness and spite directed toward the King, or toward her own position. Her manner of bearing was, of course, distinctly more reserved than that of her companion, but neither did she lack for sweetness. "I expect I'll blunder many more times. Will you, in turn, forgive me?" Her eyes lifted to catch Adeline's, and she tried for a smile.

The Princess actually looked surprised, a spark of guilt alighting in her eyes, and she conjured up another, softer smile. "You really are too sweet, Your Majesty," she said. "I have nothing to forgive you for. And if I did, the fault would lie with us all the same, for stealing you away so unceremoniously and plopping you here without any warning. I must say that I'm quite impressed by your fortitude. I'm sure I would not take it so well, if it had happened to me."

Of course, if it had happened to his sister, the King would probably have cut a bloody swathe across the continent by now, but that was beside the point.

"We shall have to heartily forgive each other, always," Adeline continued warmly. "I'm so glad you and I are of the same mind. I should dearly like to be friends as well, and hopefully help you put all this awfulness behind us. And we must conspire together if we are to have any chance of curbing my brother's terrible habits, of course."

Alais resisted a stronger reaction. The Princess made it sound as though her brother's "terrible habits" were a jest worth tittering over. But then, she thought wryly, maybe that wasn't entirely false; in some respects, his brutality might be thought of as almost hilariously over-the-top.

It had also escaped her notice that Adeline had not answered her original question, whether this was intentional or not. But frankly, she was already (mostly) sure of the answer.

She was about to respond, but it was then they had come to a stop - the hallway had reached a dead end, marked only by a pair of double doors, which must be their destination. Two slaves - collared, silent, and shaved of hair - stood sentry on either side, and hastily made to open the way for them. The Princess didn't spare them a second glance.

Alais did, though. She hesitated as they passed through the doors, her gaze inexplicably drawn to the worn features of one of the slaves. For that instant, words seemed to freeze in her throat. She knew that face, and the collared young man had met her eyes for a split second, a jolt of recognition occurring between them, before quickly lowering his head. Jasper, once a lordling, cousin to Edmure, her thoughts recited listlessly. There was only a brief chill up her spine before she managed to refocus, ostentiously brushing the lapse off for another pause for reflection.

Of course - the King was known for making slaves of the royal families who resisted him at war. They were a living and breathing embodiment of the consequences for defying him; this was Obsivian tradition, technically, but it had been largely abandoned by the King's pacifist father. Seeing Jasper there reminded her anew of what malice the King was capable of, even when he was being so charming to her on the surface. There was a monster there lurking beneath - that she should never forget. And was this what would have become of her family, had an alliance not been decided? She shivered a little, tearing her eyes away lest she attract suspicion. If she was to find some way to help Jasper, she could not afford to reveal their connection now.

The Princess ushered them inside, not having noticed the gaze that Queen and slave shared. "Susan," she called, summoning one of her ladies-in-waiting, who curtsied toward them. "Please relay my strongest apologies to Lady Beth, and let her know I will repay her amply tomorrow."

As the girl acquiesced, Adeline smiled again and led her into the chambers properly. It was an elegant room, verging on extravagant, with enough size and depth to afford grandeur. The Princess's tastes in portraits and furnishings were somewhat whimsical, and a little avant-garde, though still well within the confines of propriety. A delicate table took the center of the room, constructed entirely of glass, and there she led them. The slaves pulled out their seats for them, and brought them bowls of water with which to dip and clean their hands.

"Still, it was quite unusual, even for him," said Adeline, as she carefully perched herself down. She looked curiously over at her. "You must have really caught his admiration."

Alais took her seat without flourish, setting her hands upon her lap and managing to focus her attentions solely upon her host. Although the discovery of the lordling-turned-slave continued to weigh heavily in her mind, she was able to display no sign of it. Beyond the tactical reasons of not revealing her recognition, it would be...hazardous to allow herself to falter at every terrible discovery in this barbaric kingdom, and she had already started that disassociating process in her mind to control her nerves.

And so, she resumed the conversation, falling back into the pleasant pretense with as much skill as she could summon. "I think it was only convenient at the time." That Vale was, apparently, very important. "I think he would not have been in such a hurry to commit to this...ball and chain--" As though realizing the absurdity of the statement mid-sentence, she smiled and interjected herself in prompt manner, "Oh. I'm more of a feather and string, aren't I."

Adeline was beginning to shake her head, at this self-characterization, though she giggled at the interjection. "Well no - I mean, yes, there are always some incentives in a marriage, and Alexander is certainly motivated by pragmatism more than he should be. But I don't think he would have made his move all the same if he didn't also fancy you particularly. I'm sure you must be very special. He's said very little about you, which only makes me that much more certain about it."

She gave her fingers a gentle little flick, ridding herself of the water, and drying the rest of it off on her napkin cloth. The bowls were soon swept away by the same slaves, replaced by exquisite ceramic plates and bread and soup, for appetizers. Adeline reached for her share, breaking off a small portion with a crunch.

"Speaking of balls, though, we should throw one here soon - it's the least we could do, to make up for ruining your own so shamelessly. And perhaps your family could visit? I'm sure you'd like to see them?" It was more statement than question, though there was enough of a lilt to give deference to her opinion. "I must admit that my brother is not especially fond of balls - he likes other entertainment, as you might guess - but I'm sure he could be persuaded. It would make diplomatic sense as well, to solidify our alliance!"

Family. Here. The notion shook up her previously thought-to-be dormant surges of anxiety into something turbulent. They were going to see her like this, tied to that man (whom she "adored" now). They were going to see what had become of her, for her own carelessness and blind trust. To be fair, Queen of Obsivia was hardly a position to be ashamed off, but ...

Gentle, nervous laughter slipped past her lips. "I think more time apart might soothe the sting. My grandfather is old, and my brother is - he's liable to say something offensive to your brother before long, and that is... not... ideal." She gestured emphatically with her freshly cleansed hands, unsure of how else to describe just how not ideal this was. "... You know," she ended helplessly.

It was too soon. They would not be ready. She would not be ready, however much she would have strongly desired to see them. Better that some cousins much farer removed attend - like the Duchess of Toussaint. The Duchess always enjoyed a good ball. The Duchess could visit with her basket of baguettes, and everyone could have a merry good time, and her family could remain safe from her dangerous husband.

"I'll write to them in the meanwhile, and pass along your kind regards," she offered, before blowing softly onto her spoon. The warm and rich food, at least, seemed to brighten her spirits a bit more.

"Oh," said Adeline, simply. She seemed to understand this, and perhaps also had a sense that it went a little beyond the surface explanation, but accepted it just as it was. "Of course, of course. Still, when you do think you're ready, you should let me know all the same. I'd make sure they were properly welcomed!" She swirled her soup a little with her spoon, her eyebrows rising in that conspiratorial way of hers. "Perhaps when my brother is away? It happens more often than not."

The Princess had a somewhat effusive manner about her, conversing easily, but at the same time, there was a certain care to her words that implied she was not chattering with complete abandon. Case in point - she observed the woman across from her for a moment, in an almost assessing way, before speaking, in a would-be casual manner. "How do you feel about him, by the way? You must hate him, don't you? It's alright if you do. That's perfectly natural."

She put her bowl down, her hands still cradling it for warmth. Her eyes, however, were fixed across the table.

Alais wondered if the timing of the laughably forthright inquiries had been intentional, but no matter. She still had the benefit of being able to answer without deceit, in her way, and the answer drew from her lips all too seamlessly, in response to these questions a normal sister-in-law might have considered taboo. Of course, she first needed to swallow her present mouthful of soup, after which she all but reciprocated that unassumingly casual tone: "It began like that. But no, I don't hate him now."

As though aware that elaboration might possibly be warranted, she continued, swirling her spoon thoughtfully in her bowl, "Maintaining something like hatred can be more tiresome than what it's worth, especially for someone like him." The term 'someone like him' was not meant to be a slight, nor did it necessarily refer to his less peaceable qualities exclusively; how else was one meant to describe him? While she might have given the impression that she had been otherwise disarmed by her host's effusiveness, not once did she forget on whose domain she sat. Everything she might say could still reach his ears; this too she remembered. And, of course, lingering apart from him hadn't changed her ostentatious resolve to "love" him.

"Hmm. How good of you," said Adeline, her smile not quite sincere this time, though it didn't appear for lack of trying. She had probably hoped to get some better insight from the question - if only because the abruptness of the query might have thrown her guest off. It was nothing unusual for Alais though; considering all the thought and effort she'd poured into her stance toward the King (to the point of tedium), it would have been an embarrassment if the Princess did catch her unprepared.

"Better to think on the positives, like this soup," Alais added with a hint of good cheer.

"Oh, you like the spices?" said the Princess, brightening a little. "I'm afraid it's my favorite type of flavor and I've selfishly ordered supper accordingly."

"I happen to love spice," she returned, sincerely this time, with a smile. "Your Highness was fortunate this time."

Adeline sipped at her own spoon with a pleased expression. "Oh, it's a relief to have spared you an unenjoyable meal! I would have felt an awful host. But yes, you know how I feel then. Bland flavors are so uninteresting. I like new tastes and new things - I dearly love to travel, you know." She paused to recollect something, sighing. "Though, considering my recent adventures abroad, it may be some time before Alexander allows me to again. He can be so overly protective sometimes."

Alais tipped her head curiously. "Oh, what happened?"

Was this what had caused the King to go silent before, and pray for his sister's safety at the shrine? He had been so sparse on the details.

"I was visiting Scalyris," she replied, with an exaggerated little sigh. This by itself did not seem too odd - Scalyris was a close neighbor and ally, even if it was full of arid desserts and gigantic bugs and other things a princess would not usually be drawn to. "It's a beautiful place - have you ever been? You must if you like spices. Their cuisine is absolutely the most delightful. And the fashions!" She looked wistful for a moment, as if her absence was a true tragedy. "In any case, it was all going splendidly, when - oh, goodness, you wouldn't even believe it!"

She certainly had a dramatic way of telling her story, dropping in meaningful pauses here and there, and catching her listener's eye with her own expressive features. "There was a coup," she said in a lowered voice. "A revolution! I don't know if you've heard - I suppose you couldn't have, since you've been away - but it's true! King Nenanthid was slaughtered in his own chambers, and by none other than his own brother!"

Their bowls and plates were being discreetly gathered away, and replaced with the dinner entrees - plump pheasants and pink salmon, all heaped with the same spices - but this did not distract Adeline from continuing her story. "It was a real uproar. The city was in absolute turmoil, and there were skirmishes breaking out left and right! No one knew if the line of succession would stand. And when Prince Jehan ultimately seized control, we thought it was for the worst. He's always had disagreements with Alexander, you see. There was a lot of bad blood between them. Now that he'd seized power, we thought he'd ransom me, or perhaps worst."

The narrative elicited a remarkably more animated response from Alais than the last subject matter, prompting her to blink rapidly with surprise. No, she could not have heard. News of the continent hadn't even reached her ears on a miserly level. It was uncomfortable being left in the dark to these affairs - either through negligence or willful intent, she did not know, but hopefully information would not be so sparse from then on. She was in the palace after all, and there would be more people to interact with than only the King.

It was also at this point, where her unfinished soup was being replaced by entrees, and where she appeared otherwise absorbed in the recounting of events, that she made a casual and polite request for a cup of hot water to one of the slaves - blessedly the one she did not know - ghosting by.

"His Majesty doesn't tell me anything." This almost came as a goodnatured grouse. "How long ago was this?" She thought she knew, but confirmation would be helpful. "How did you manage? What did you do? What did the Prince do?"

She remembered Prince Jehan. He happened to have been one of her numerous suitors - one of the more impatient, slimy ones, who she'd never felt quite comfortable alone with in a room. In a way, she was no longer surprised that the King had reacted with as much intensity as he did; she wouldn't have felt safe in his territory - without his more good-natured brother to check him - much less Princess Adeline, when there was reputedly bad blood between their two families. (The former Scalyrian King had kept an uneasy peace.) That Jehan had actually murdered his own brother for the throne, too! She supposed it confirmed what her intuition had always felt about him.

"No longer a Prince, but a King," Adeline corrected, but amiably. "Well, it was actually terribly anticlimactic. King Jehan does dislike my brother, but not to the point where he'd risk war with us, as it turns out. He had enough on his hands as it was, quieting all the dissent from his very improper inheritance and dealing with outbreaks of resistance. Or perhaps his bark was always worse than his bite." This seemed unlikely, for someone who had committed fratricide, but she didn't linger on the idea for too long. "In any case, after everything had settled down, he came to personally apologize to me for the upheaval, and assured me that I should have a formal escort safely back, should I need it. It wasn't necessary, of course, as Duke Ethan had rode out to see me back, but it was still a kind gesture."

Having taken them through the most pressing part of the story, she felt at ease pausing to serve the both of them, slicing delicate slivers of meat with a practiced hand. "But news takes some time to travel. Alexander was furious with me. And worried, I suppose." Perhaps sensing that she needed to explain the former sentiment, she added, reluctantly, "He'd had intelligence that something like this was brewing, and had warned me to depart early. But it was such an unlikely thing! I can't be blamed for not acting on improbabilities. Intelligence is often wrong, and if I were to be so cautious all the time, I'd hardly be able to travel or stay anywhere."