Lord Konegin aimed to catch her by surprise, but Erida expected him to find her before her entrance. She was not disappointed.
“My lord,” she said as he approached, moving to cut off her train of ladies and guards.
He was nearly alone, accompanied only by a pair of knights sworn to his service. Where her own wore green with gold, his two armored men wore tunics of gold with green, the lion roaring and reversed. Konegin himself favored emerald from the rich leather of his boots to his brocade mantle fastened with a jeweled pin beneath his throat.
His bow was pitiful, barely a jerk of his golden head. “Your Majesty,” he said. His chain of office winked at his neck. “I’m glad to have found you before all this begins.”
As if you were not crouched around the corner like a hound waiting for scraps, Erida thought, forcing her smile.
“Indeed, it has already begun if my seneschal is true,” she replied, waving a hand to the stout little man who oversaw the palace and its doings. He cowered behind her ladies. Very few members of the royal court cared to step between the Queen and her cousin, for no amount of gold nor glory. “The barrels are flowing free, and I believe the wine is being passed by now. From Siscaria tonight, isn’t it, Cuthberg? Now that the Madrentines are bothering us at the border again.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. Siscarian red and a Nironese vintage from Sapphire Bay for your table,” the seneschal answered in a halting voice, though the Queen had little true interest.
She held her cousin’s piercing gaze as she held her smile. Forcefully, with all her focus.
“I must confess, I wish I saw more of your betrothed,” he said, fishing poorly. “I’ve barely been able to speak to him.”
Erida waved a hand, dismissive. “He spends most of his time in the archives, both in the New Palace and in the Konrada vaults.” It was the truth, easy to tell.
Konegin quirked a blond eyebrow. “A student of history?”
“After a fashion. He wants to know all he can of Galland before he joins me on her throne.”
The lord curled his lip with distaste.
“Cousin, I understand your misgivings.” She spoke as kindly she could. Konegin was a scale to balance. He needed to know her worth, her power as queen, but not feel threatened by it, lest he be spurred to action. “Please know I hold your counsel in the highest regard.”
Konegin pursed his lips, his beard closing over his mouth. “And yet you ignore it so easily, if you allow me to advise you at all.”
“You have not been ignored.” Only men can speak all day long and still think themselves silent. “But the choice is my own. You swore an oath to my father to see that through.”
“I did,” he answered sharply. “And I regret it.”
A spark of anger flared in Erida’s chest. Any word spoken against her father was a word against the crown, the kingdom, against the blood in her own veins. She wanted to throw him in the stocks for even daring it. But what good would that do? she warned herself. His son is pathetic, but his lands are many, his reach long. There are many more loyal to Konegin than they are to me. It is better to wait, to fortify myself, to grow strong before trying the snake pit.
Erida kept walking, her pace slow as to not be rude. But enough to keep her party moving, the feast close on the horizon. Balance.
Konegin fell in next to her.
“You think him too lowborn for me, I know that,” she said evenly. For not the first time, Erida wished she had inherited her father’s height so she could look her cousin in the eye. “I see that. But trust me when I say I’m thinking of Galland, of the crown, of our country, in every second I live and breathe. He is the right choice for all of us, for what we can become.”
Konegin scoffed. “I believe in flesh and blood, in what is real, Erida.”
Ahead, a door loomed. Sanctuary. The passage, the great hall, the future. Freedom from loathsome cousins and false betrothals, from dreams unrealized and impossible.
“So do I,” Erida replied. More than you know. “But, Cousin, you’ve spent all these years sitting my council, naysaying every name upon my list. Blood princes of Kasa, Ibal, Rhashir, Trec, every kingdom upon the Ward. The wealthiest heirs of Galland, the great princes of Tyriot. Men of means and power. You’ve never favored any of them, nor supplied a name yourself.” She surveyed him with a stern eye. “Suggest a suitor, Cousin, if you have one. Or accept who I have chosen, for the good of us all.”
Lord Konegin turned sour. He chewed his thin lips, resisting as long as he could. This was a corner he had long avoided, a card he didn’t want to play yet. But your hand is forced. Lay it down and let me see, Erida thought, almost greedy. She felt victory in her teeth.