“I believe in your tongue, Princess,” said Henris, managing to coax a smile from Esofi. “Are you well otherwise?”
“Of course,” said Esofi. “Our rooms are adequate, and we’ve come upon no great trouble so far. I look forward to meeting the crown princess today.”
“Ah,” said Henris. “Hm. Yes.”
Esofi had a feeling that he’d heard the same stories that Lisette had, but merely smiled pleasantly. “If that is all, Captain?”
Henris bowed and showed himself out. Esofi allowed herself a little sigh and settled back onto the couch.
“Mireille, I would like to check the Ieflarian peerage again,” she said. Mireille was up like an arrow loosed from a bow and returned quickly with a parchment folio. Esofi accepted it and flipped open to the page of the royal family tree.
She felt a soft little pang when her gaze fell upon Albion’s name, but quickly forced her attentions elsewhere. There, beside him, was the name Adalheidis Verheicht.
She also knew that the crown passed through Dietrich’s side of the family, and checked his siblings. He had a younger brother, Prince Radulfr, who was married to a Duchess Theudelinda and therefore not a marriageable candidate. They had two children, who were—Esofi did some quick counting—third and fourth in line for the throne, assuming nobody else had died in the last few months. She supposed that she ought to set her sights on them, if the crown princess turned out to be serious about abandoning her responsibilities.
But Esofi knew little of romance except what she had heard in stories and seen firsthand at Rho Dianae. She had been grateful for her arrangement with Albion, because it meant that she wouldn’t have to play those confusing games that everyone at court was so fond of. She had never understood people who bemoaned marriage contracts that they’d had no say in. To Esofi’s practical mind, marriage contracts represented certainty and security.
What chance did she have without one? Esofi knew she couldn’t compete with the tall and elegant nobles of the Ieflarian court who would all have their attention on the throne now that Albion was gone. The thought filled her with dread. Esofi knew how to run a household, how to plan a defense, how to secure an alliance. But she did not know how to beguile. No, she would need a contract to be drawn up and signed immediately.
A servant arrived to escort them to breakfast. Esofi was still becoming accustomed to the large and heavy breakfasts that the Ieflarians preferred, and felt a little queasy when she sat down at the table and saw the rich meats and strangely prepared eggs that had been spread out across it. Back home in Rhodia, people ate little in the morning beyond a light piece of fruit or a small pastry.
Breakfast passed without incident, and eventually, Their Majesties dismissed everyone. With nothing else to do but await the queen’s summons, Esofi returned to her rooms and decided to see if she could try to rearrange her things more to her taste.
She found her marble statuette of Talcia tucked away in one of the drawers, wrapped in the blue square of velvet that served as Esofi’s altar cloth. Esofi immediately set both out on a table by the window. Her prayer beads and books quickly joined the display.
Talcia, Fifth of the Ten, was the Goddess of Magic. But she seemed to be less popular in Ieflaria than she was in Rhodia. Esofi had seen no shrines or temples to her since they’d come into the country. Perhaps that was why Ieflaria was so lacking in battlemages. Their blessing came from her, after all.
Talcia was also the wife of Iolar, the God of Law and Civilization to whom all regents looked for guidance. Together, they represented the duality of the known and unknown, fine ideals versus unpredictable reality.
If Esofi was allowed to set up her university, she would dedicate it to Talcia. Perhaps that would cause the goddess’s attention to finally turn back to Ieflaria. It would take some time, but once Talcia began granting her magic to the Ieflarians, they would be able to hold their own against the dragons.
Esofi looked out the window at the gardens below. If she was lucky, she might be able to find some night-blooming flowers to leave as a fresh offering at her small altar. Of course, there was also the large offering she planned to make at the Great Temple of Iolar in gratitude for their safe journey, but that was more of a business transaction, akin to the large sum she had paid to the Mer for their protection when she sailed from Rho Dianae to Gennelet. Iolar was the patron of regents and lawmakers everywhere, and so Esofi knew she must make the appropriate offerings to him. But Esofi’s family had always been closer to Talcia.
If she hadn’t been waiting on Queen Saski’s invitation, Esofi might have gone in search of the chapel right then. She had always felt comforted in temples, so near to the gods.
Queen Saski’s summons came soon enough, though, delivered by Countess Amala herself. Esofi regretted that the invitation was for her alone. She would have liked to have her ladies nearby to assess Crown Princess Adale for themselves, though logic told her that Lisette would be in the garden somewhere.
Amala linked their elbows together in a shockingly familiar gesture—apparently the people of Ieflaria saw no shame in touching one another—as she led Esofi into the gardens. It was a lovely, bright day with the sun warming the grass and colorful springtime flowers in bloom. Gardeners were at work quietly, their fingertips occasionally shimmering with the green magic of Eyvindr as they coaxed open blossoms and rejuvenated dying plants.
Out on the grass, under a cloth pavilion, a table had been set for three. Queen Saski was already seated, talking to a servant. Esofi curtsied as she approached, and Saski smiled brightly.
“Sit, my dear,” she said, gesturing to the chair nearest to herself. Esofi passed her parasol to the servant and began the careful process of seating herself without harming her dress.
“I am sorry to say my daughter has yet to show herself today,” confided Queen Saski with a deep sigh. “I hope you do not take offense. She is… she has been having a bit of a difficult time since…”
“I understand,” said Esofi.
“Still, I expect her to make an appearance soon.” Queen Saski looked distinctly unhappy. “Perhaps you can tame her. Iolar knows I can’t.”
A servant filled Esofi’s teacup.
“I hope your journey here wasn’t too unpleasant,” Saski continued. “The dragons… they are a pestilence. Many of our couriers have left the country altogether, and the few that still consent to fly charge exorbitant prices.”
The couriers were operated by the Temple of Nara, and their blessing was one of the most enviable in all the world. Each had been born with a pair of enormous feathered wings emerging from their shoulder blades, large and powerful enough to allow flight. Couriers traveled across entire continents, carrying messages and enjoying unparalleled freedom. But despite their blessing, they were still Men, and stood little chance against a dragon. Esofi could not blame them for leaving.
“The dragons troubled our traveling caravan at first,” Esofi said. “I believe it is because they smelled my dowry. But we drove them back—it was not difficult, with so many battlemages.”
“So I have heard,” said Saski, her face lighting with a smile. “I cannot tell you what it has meant to our people to see your mages fighting against the dragons and winning so easily. We have had such tales from the south these past weeks.”
Esofi laughed. “I am sure most of them are wild exaggerations.”