“The proposals are ready to be discussed,” Uncle intervenes. “Perhaps we shouldn’t let these moments go to waste?”
The General turns, pausing. He reminds me of Mother, unlikely to say or do anything that isn’t precisely necessary. “We’ve only just arrived, Lord Lehzar, and my men are tired. After a day of travel, surely you wouldn’t begrudge us some rest?”
Uncle steps back. “As you wish then, General.”
“Please, make yourselves welcome,” Mother says to the gathered group of Safire. “A private dinner will be prepared for you, and tonight, it would please me to have you attend a music concert, in honour of this great visit.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the General says.
He addresses his party in Savien, and it’s not quite beautiful, slightly jarring at times. There’s a brief discussion, the Admiral expressing some concern and the red-haired Cock asking a question, but the General responds with a few firm words and then they’re gone down the hallway, escorted by footmen to their quarters.
* * *
By afternoon, the Safire soldiers are wandering the palace at a leisurely, unarmed pace. Though their stiff grey uniforms and tall leather boots feel entirely military, all structured patterns and battle-hardened medals, they smile casually, laughing together, lighting their foul-scented cigarettes inside, young and easy and striking. Our Etanian soldiers keep their short hair properly gelled from forehead to nape. I expected the same from the Safire, perhaps even more so. But instead, these foreign boys keep theirs longer along the top, barely slicked back. A romantic sort of look that suits the old oil paintings they stand before, smoke curling about them with serpentine trails.
The lords don’t bother to hide their judgment. They pronounce their opinions in Landori, not Etanian, so as to be sure they’re very much understood, subtly critiquing the General’s victory in Karkev, the new agreements in Landore, anything to prove they won’t be won over by such young warriors.
The Safire soldiers ignore the barbed comments, uninterested in anyone but themselves. If anything, they appear mostly bored.
Violet and I watch from a safe distance. A smile plays on her lips. “They’re very handsome in those uniforms.”
I don’t confirm or deny this. “They seem arrogant,” I say, not wanting to admit it out loud yet, but I think to Violet it’s all right. She needs the tempering.
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of boldness. It will certainly help in the South.”
“They have no manners, Violet. Smoking indoors, even! Who raised these boys?”
“Then we’ll have to teach them better,” she says, giggling suddenly.
The Cock has materialized on the second floor, gazing down at us from over the marble railing. He gives a cavalier salute, and Violet, rather impetuously, waves back. He’s much older than us. Far from a boy, broad-shouldered and tall, and his ranking shows.
“Do you think the men in Savient know how to dance proper, or shall we have to teach them that too?” Violet whispers in my ear.
A nearby lord frowns, observing us, and I’m afraid I’ll be implicated in this indecency. What frightens me more, though, is her genuine intrigue. It feels different from Slick, who was simply her chess piece for a single dinner. I won’t let her do this to Reni.
I grasp her arm and pull her from Cock’s attention. She follows, feet dragging, glancing behind like she’s abandoning happiness altogether. I’m not sure where I’m taking her. There’s little escape, since the Safire seem to be everywhere, but she’s quick to protest once we’re on our own.
“It’s not wrong to indulge them,” she says.
“They’re getting enough attention as it is.”
“From lords mocking them behind their hands? By God, Ali, we need to do our part and make them feel welcome!”
She’s grinning, and I’d like to shake her for it. I’m annoyed by her delight, annoyed further by the Safire and how utterly uncaring they seem about the gracious welcome we’ve given. Perhaps they’re exactly what Reni predicted—rough-handed men who care nothing for the order of things.
I march Violet down the hall, round the far corner, then halt abruptly, Violet bumping into me. We’ve nearly run headlong into two Safire uniforms. They blink at us, startled as we are.
It’s the younger pair.
Surprise changes to a quick smile on the fair-haired boy’s face. “Princess Aurelia,” he says, as though he’s said my name a hundred times before and has any right to greet me without introduction. “How are you?”
His hair falls in a mess over his forehead, like he never bothered to do better when he woke this morning, or when he got off the aeroplane here, and the casual appearance accentuates the informal greeting.
I really don’t know who raised them.
I lift my chin, waiting, and it takes a moment. Understanding dawns and both boys step swiftly to the side, one right and the other left. Violet and I walk straight through the middle. We continue down the hall and I don’t look behind.
“Regardless of manners, the handsome pilot was quite taken by me on the steps,” Violet insists. “Did you see how he smiled at me?”
“No,” I say, because I’m sure he was staring more at her breasts.
* * *
The sun’s lowering behind the mountains by the time I have a moment alone with Reni. He’s been in meeting with Uncle, and refuses to admit any details of it to me, which only sparks my irritation hotter. I don’t trust either of them. And that realization, the feeling of something unspoken between us, like we’re on opposite sides of a divide, leaves us both sullen and silent as we cross the lawn to the quiet edge of the forest. There’s only the distant sound of engine noise, one of our Etanian aeroplanes rattling down the runway and rising into the golden sky.
Reni leans against an elm, his arms tucked under each other. “Well, I’m beginning to see how they got Karkev under their belt.”
“It’s true,” I agree. “I don’t think the Safire care much for precedents.”
Reni snorts.
The Etanian plane spins high above us, a glinting bit of green in the reddening sky.
“And now Mother’s decided I’m not to be a part of the negotiations with the General,” Reni continues, his frustration clearly chafing. “Uncle says she thinks I’ll do something rash. But we need to bring up Karkev. Dakar needs to acknowledge the truth. He said he’d secure his own borders, no further, and now he’s taken the whole thing! He claims nothing was written down, but does a man’s honour need to be in ink?”
The plane does another sudden spin, impressively quick.
“Yes…,” I say, watching.
“Yes?”
“I mean, no.”
The plane drops into a steep dive and disappears from sight. I’ve never seen a pilot practice tactics near the palace. I don’t think it’s allowed, but perhaps they’ve been inspired by the Safire show this morning.
“I suppose you’d be applauding these things, Ali, being the fan of the Safire you’ve suddenly become this spring. Are you still in awe?”
His words light the match, and I glare at him. “You want to know why Mother won’t invite you to these negotiations? It’s because you aren’t even strong enough to handle the fate of your own horse!”
He flinches visibly and the drone grows louder again, gathering strength.
“That’s a rotten thing to say,” he whispers.
It is, and I mean it. “Don’t you dare leave Liberty like this. If you don’t have the nerve to put him out of his misery, then I will. I’ll give the order to pull the—”
Propellers erupt above us, drowning me out as the Etanian plane charges over our heads, rolling wildly across the tree line like it’s coming down in flames.
“What’s that mad pilot doing?” I gasp.
Reni scowls. “About to get himself in a lot of trouble, that’s what.”