Chapter Text
I survived years in exile, so surviving in Amalur as the queen’s betrothed should be no problem. Of course, that’s assuming the locals don’t kill me on my way to the palace.
I’m well aware of the glares following me through the streets as I approach the palace gates, but they hardly faze me. There was a time when I would have crouched low on my horse and pulled my cowl low over my face, but no longer. If I am to marry these humans’ queen, then they will become well acquainted with who—and what—I am soon enough.
Amalur is even smaller than I expected, and I hadn’t expected much. Even some of Invierne’s smallest cities are larger than this one. Still, I must admit the climate is much more pleasant than Joya d’Arena, miserable place that it is.
A crier attempts to announce my arrival as I reach the cobblestones of the palace courtyard. “Queen Juana-Alodia’s betrothed, Prince He Who Wafts—” He is clearly unable to remember my name.
Honestly, no matter what Elisa claims, Joyans clearly find Invierno names incomprehensible.
“He Who Wafts Gently with the Wind Becomes as Mighty as the Thunderstorm,” I finish.
But the crier merely backtracks and finishes, “Prince Storm of Invierne.”
I sigh. I’ve grown used to Joyan incompetence over the years, but their inability to comprehend our names will never cease to amaze me.
Inside the palace, I come face to face with Queen Alodia’s personal steward, Lord Zito. Eye sockets covered in a cloth band, he uses his spear to guide his way through the hall.
Zito reaches toward me to settle a hand on my shoulder. “Accepting Queen Alodia’s invitation at last. I’ll admit the subject of why it’s taken this long has been the topic of much gossip.”
The two of us have not seen each other since Elisa’s wedding a few months ago and met only once before that.
“I would be surprised if that were truly the source of most of the gossip,” I say. “In my country, I suspect people are calling me a disgusting disgrace to our species and my house.”
Zito withdraws his hand and purses his lips. “Blunt as usual.”
I shrug. “God despises liars.”
For all that they claim to want honesty, I know humans hate blatant truth telling, but some of it is only natural in my presence and these humans are going to have to get used to it if I am to live here permanently.
“In that case,” Zito says. “Your betrothal to the queen has been the subject of much gossip paired with insults even more . . . intense than those you mentioned from your countrymen.”
I nod. “That is to be expected.”
The two of us lapse into silence long enough for the servants to bring the rest of my belongings into the room. I traveled to Amalur with relatively little. Elisa backed my idea of coming openly but had suggested I bring a contingent of guards. I could protect myself with my magic well enough during the day, but everyone must sleep. My guards file in now, helping the servants with my belongings. Lord Zito introduces me to a servant who will show me to my room.
“No audience with the queen first?” I ask.
Zito shifts his spear between his hands. “The queen runs a whole country. She is a busy woman.”
I school my features into indifference. “Of course.”
I let the servants show me to my room, but inside, my chest aches. This whole journey, I’d been telling myself that as soon as I got here I would get to see Alodia. I’d spent hours on my trek through the jungle daydreaming about her magnificent sleek hair, opalescent eyes, and elegant figure. I had been so confident that this marriage arrangement would work. Wanted so badly for it to work. For me to be worthy of the affection of a woman so magnificent as Elisa’s sister, but here in this palace, the doubt begins to set in. I have failed so many times before. Would one more failure really be such a surprise?
It is not until dinner that evening that Alodia invites me to speak to her. I jump at the opportunity and rush to dinner. I can hear my tutors berating me now, such eagerness does not befit a prince of the realm. Leave such antics to the likes of your sister, who cannot inherit. My sister. Even all these months after her loss, the thought of her makes my chest ache. But right now at least, I have the thought of my upcoming meeting with Alodia to distract me. I will not deny that I was in serious need of a bath when I arrived at the palace, but after hours in my room, I am now even clearer than I was when leaving Brisadulce. Even my hair has grown back to a respectable length, reaching past my shoulders. It might not matter much in a region where it’s common practice for men to crop their hair so short they’re practically bald, but it makes me feel better, and that matters more than what any Joyan thinks.
Dinner is a meal of fresh tilapia and saffron rice drizzled in date sauce. It’s a good thing I got used to fish in Joya d’Arena. As a child, I couldn’t stand the stuff.
Alodia looks even more beautiful than I remember with a gorgeous red ruffled dress that sinches at her waist.
“Hopefully your journey was more pleasant than our trip home from Elisa’s wedding. Shall we say that we now have a full understanding of what it means to have sand covering every inch of your skin.” Alodia flashes Zito a smile so lovely I have to remind myself not to stare.
“An experience I hope to never repeat,” Zito says.
“If you ever make a return trip to Elisa’s court, I recommend traveling along the coast instead of through the desert. My journey here was unexpectedly pleasant,” I say.
“In what way?”
I lick my lips. “It was much cooler than I expected, and I didn’t get a single sunburn. I know the weather is wetter here than in most of Joya, as this country is so near the jungle, but I wouldn’t expect the climate to be so much more like Invierne. But then, it was cooler than usual when I left Joya as well.”
During our conversation, Alodia set down her silverware and leaned forward with the weight of one arm against her gold encrusted chair, emphasizing her astonishingly glossy hair. But in response to my comment, Alodia stiffens, picks her cutlery back up, and resumes eating with enhanced vigor. So there is something unusual about this weather, I thought so. And the queen doesn’t want to talk about it. How odd.
But it is my goal here to solidify our marriage arrangement, not to fish for information, so I opt to change the subject. “Speaking of when I left Joya, Elisa has some news she felt was too important to send in a letter. She wanted it to come from my own lips.”
“Oh?” Alodia takes a sip of wine, a faint smile on her lips. “Hopefully not so grand a gesture as showing up unannounced, stopping an army of sorcerers, and stealing my country out from under me?”
“I should think your sister’s days of imperial conquest are over,” I say. “No, Elisa wished for me to tell you that she is pregnant.”
“I was wondering why Elisa thought to let you come now. What she was waiting for.”
“She was waiting for a time when she felt safe and secure in her rule,” I say.
Alodia drains the rest of her wine glass then sets it down with a hard clink. Her expression is stiff with condescension.
“Is that all?”
I run a hand along my fork. “As far as I’m aware. There aren’t many people Elisa trusts. I’m one of the few she does. It makes sense for her to want me around.”
“I know your people only say what you believe to be true,” Alodia says. “So I am forced to think you truly believe that.”
“Alodia, you and your sister have been over this,” Zito interjects. “You are to marry Prince Storm for the alliance it will bring with Invierne.”
“And I believe that is her main reason, yes,” Alodia says. “But my sister knows that going through with this union will almost certainly put her grandchildren on my throne.”
I too had considered the complications our marriage would bring to the production of future heirs, but until this moment, I hadn’t understood what that might mean to Alodia. Invierne’s house titles, while hereditary, had a long history of going far down the genetic line to find a sorcerer to inherit, and even then there were people like me who failed and were disinherited. My being re-inherited after a death sentence was the rarity, not the other way around.
I decide it’s best to be upfront about the subject and not mislead Alodia with half-truths. “The probability that we will be able to have children is slim. Should we succeed, the probability that our children will be able to produce heirs of their own is so small as to be not worth mentioning.”
Alodia glares. “Thank you for the reminder.”
I’ve spent enough time around humans to recognize this as sarcasm.
“But there is another option. You could take a lover.” I am nauseated just at the thought of Alodia’s beautiful body curled up in the sheets with anyone other than me, but I manage to keep my tone even, indifferent. I am skilled in the art of hiding my emotions, but it has never seemed harder than it has in this moment.
Alodia tilts her head to the side and taps her fingers on the table. “You would allow this?”
It takes all of my training not to reveal the way that I desperately want her to disagree. That I desperately want Alodia to love me, regardless of whether I am capable of providing her a child. “Yes.”
“The people will not like it,” Zito says. “Orovalle is a religious nation.”
“You’ve already impressed upon me that they do not like that an Invierno is marrying their queen. Surely, they can stomach a little more displeasure.”
“A little more displeasure?” Alodia rises to her feet. “You mean more than the displeasure it will be to bed something like me?”
“Not at all. That will be a greater pleasure than I deserve.” I stay seated, even going so far as to take a sip of my wine.
For a moment, Alodia seems taken aback. It’s almost as if she expected me to agree that making love to her would be horrible, but then her fury returns. “You’re right. It is.” A servant enters carrying platters of coconut scones. Alodia sinks back into her chair. “You are a frank man, Prince Storm. I don’t feel that there is any need to be anything but honest with you.”
I nod. Goodness, Alodia is beautiful when she is angry.
Alodia picks up a coconut scone and stares at it. “This being so, your people have been at war with ours for as long as our histories can recount.”
“Since your people came to this world and the plan to meld our species into one failed.”
“Precisely.” Alodia took a bite of her scone. “We are not so affected as Basajuan, but still all our people know of yours is war and destruction. Just within my own lifetime I caught an animagus who was poisoning the land of one of my Condes with his magic.”
I should bend to her wishes. Listen carefully, but my next words slip out before I think to stop them. “My people do not have a great view of yours either. The first thing your people did after taking our land and transforming a large portion of the world into a desert was forcibly make us more human, after all.”
Alodia takes a deep breath and rests a hand on the bridge of her nose. “That was thousands of years ago. No one who lived then is still alive. Isn’t it time to move on?”
I take several bites of my scone. “We couldn’t. Not when our survival was tied to the life source of your bearers, but now that we’ve regained access to the zafira, maybe we can. It’s why I’m here after all.”
Alodia swallows the last bite of her scone. “Right, and out of this treaty all we get is a cessation of hostility while you get the magical power source you desperately need to survive. Hardly seems fair.”
“It’s fair when that power source is buried under a mountain of rubble.” I pull my body back from the table and take off one of my boots.
Zito frowns. “Are you taking your shoes off?”
“He is,” Alodia clarifies for her blind steward.
I rest the leg with my now bare foot on my thigh. Then, I clasp my fingers around the chain there and bring it high enough to be seen over the table. With nothing to muffle the metal, there is a loud clinking sound. “This is what the power source did to me. If it weren’t for Elisa, I would still be trapped.”
Alodia’s eyes fixate on the chains. Her mouth drops open. This is a stronger reaction than I expected. It seems Elisa never told her sister about what happened when we reached the zafira. Alodia takes a step toward me and reaches out her hand. “May I?”
I nod.
Alodia clarifies the source of the clanging noise and her interest for Zito.
“Has no one been able to have these chains removed?” Zito asks.
I shake my head. “They are magic forged. They will not disappear until the zafira has a new living sacrifice—at least I hope so—the ancient texts are unclear on the matter. In any case, your Majesty, whichever sorcerer reaches the zafira first is in for a terrible surprise.”
Alodia shakes her head as she studies the mottled flesh around my ankles. “This skin, Storm. It’s so red. It looks infected. You should see a healer.”
Infection is something I’ve been on the lookout for, and even treated once. I know what infection looks like, so when I look down at my ankles, I say with confidence, “It’s not infected. I’m just pale.”
Alodia blinks rapidly as her gaze rises to my face.
“I’m paler than you Joyans, so it looks worse than it is.”
I meant my words as a comfort, so when the chain’s Alodia had held clatter from her hand and on to the floor, I am surprised to see the coldness of her gaze. “We are not Joyans.”
I blink. “Certainly, you are Orovalleños, but is it not a vassal state of Elisa’s Joyan Empire?”
Alodia takes a step toward me. She is more than a head shorter, but you almost wouldn’t know it from the intensity of her gaze. “Orovalleños are Orovalleños, vassal state or no, but I suppose we all look the same to you?”
I fall silent for some time because this used to be true—used to be. I told Elisa as much when we first met. “You do not look the same to me now.”
“Now. This hasn’t always been true?” Alodia asks.
“I do not wish to deceive my future bride. When I first started spending time around your people you all looked the same to me, but that has changed after spending time traveling with Elisa.”
“So you admit it. You think of us as lesser, identical beings. Just like the rest of your arrogant species,” Alodia says.
“You know that I speak truth, as we find lying next to impossible,” I say. “So, I cannot lie to you. There was a time when I used to believe that, but that time is past. I’ve now spent so much time around your species that I sometimes struggle telling apart the animagi.”
Zito, still seated, takes a sip of wine. “Ironic, that.”
But Queen Alodia is not amused. “I am not sure that someone who has thought that way at any point in time is fit to be my husband.”
I force my expression to remain neutral despite the sensation ten times worse than what I felt when the zafira was drawing me toward it. “If that is your decision, then I will abide by it.”
Alodia nods. “I will give you ten days to change my mind. Twice the holy number of perfection—should be plenty of time. If you have not changed my mind by then, I expect you to be on your way.”
“Of course, Queen Alodia.”
She slams the door behind her.