L Queens #2
“But what was I supposed to do?” he continues with a shrug. “The man did try to steal my wife from me. What kind of husband would I be if I hadn’t dragged him naked behind my horse, hm? Oh, he sang like the sweetest bird and spilled all his secrets.”
There are hushed exclamations of horror and excited muttering all down the table. I pat Magnar’s hand on my thigh. “Why don’t I introduce you to Queen Nasturtia of Trista? She was my mother’s dear friend.”
Magnar inclines his head and looks at Nasturtia with a polite smile. He’s taller than everyone at the table and has a clear view without having to crane his neck.
“It is an honor to meet you, Queen Nasturtia,” he says, pressing his palm to his chest in a small bow. He smiles without showing his teeth. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening. Call me Magnar, please.”
“My pleasure, Magnar,” she manages to say, sounding faint, her eyes wide.
“I must say, Trista is a beautiful country, but not as beautiful as its queen,” he continues, voice low and polite, just bordering on seductive. “If I can ever be of service to you, my lady, just say the word. My wife’s friends are my friends.”
She stutters out a thanks, and when Magnar turns away, his neighbor interested in conversation again, she gapes at me, seeming utterly baffled.
“That’s the Tyrant?” she asks. “But they say… They say…”
I smile indulgently and shake my head. “They are wrong, Nasturtia. As I told you—he is a great man.”
The feast consists of five courses. Magnar’s manners are impeccable, and I don’t think anyone notices him glancing at my utensil choices before every course.
He speaks bluntly a few more times, then becomes perfectly charming and agreeable until he has everyone at the table confused.
People crane their necks to steal glances at him, and those who sit close enough to hear his conversation relay everything to those sitting farther.
He has them all befuddled and completely ensnared. Just like me months ago, the kings and queens of the Eleven have a hard time confronting their expectations with reality.
After dinner, men go to their parlor while queens walk together to our room for cakes and liqueurs. Nasturtia winds my arm through hers and leads me quickly, her eyes bright and excited.
“Oh, Caliane, you’ll have to tell us everything. And I mean—everything. Remember, we are all married women.”
I frown in confusion, but then I understand as I remember the pout on my maid’s face when I told her to leave the bathroom. It seems human women itch with curiosity.
We settle down on cream armchairs, each of us presented with a selection of cakes and tiny glasses of sweet, alcoholic concoctions. All of the queens are here save for Rynda, the queen of Cassia, who Nasturtia informs me is abed waiting for her seventh child to be born.
The six queens turn to me as soon as the serving staff move away to stand demurely by the confection table.
Nasturtia gives me an encouraging smile, then introduces me to every other queen.
Some of them I remember, but not others, especially the young Queen Molly, who married Xander, the king of Lovar only a year ago.
When all introductions are made, the oldest queen, Susan of Amber Port, takes out a pouch of tobacco and a smoking pipe that looks like it’s made of bone.
“Sidonius says you have three Agnidari lovers in addition to a husband,” she says with a small smirk, filling her pipe. “I call a bluff, unless we’ve been vastly misinformed about their physiques.”
I laugh in surprise, and the other queens fidget, their skirts rustling. Young Molly blushes to the tips of her red hair, but no one calls out the old queen for her improper question. I sit back, folding my hands in my lap.
“My, my, if my governess were here, she would have been appalled.”
Susan scoffs. “I’m too old to be cowed by servants.
You’ll grow out of it, too. Now, if you won’t regale us with the details, I’ll be personally offended.
I hate boring small talk. They always yap about children, knitting, one ball or another.
Boring! Please, tell us at least if they are as well-endowed as the legends say.
I’ll be vastly disappointed if they aren’t. ”
All queens watch me with wide, curious eyes, and I smile, slowly raising my arm. I tap the crease of my elbow and the knuckles of my fist, then turn my forearm this way and that. Molly frowns, not understanding, but the older queens press their hands to their mouths in shock, and Susan cackles.
“That’s the largest of them, mind you,” I say quickly. “The others are more like… Hm.”
I extend my forearm again, tapping my elbow, and then my wrist. Molly makes a surprised, squawky sound. Susan shakes her head.
“Then you can’t take four unless you’re a freak of nature.”
“Whyever not? It’s not like I have them all at once. I don’t think it would be possible.”
They titter and huff, and Susan lights her pipe, puffing out a cloud of smoke.
“True. I once had three lovers at the same time, and it took quite an effort. Of course, none of them was my husband. The old prick hates competition. Not yours, according to Sidonius. You and your husband share lovers, do you?”
I think back to that night in Farneer and nod with a smile. “You really must be bored, though, if that’s the only topic of conversation that interests you,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
Susan is not unlike my mother-in-law. I think I like her.
She harrumphs, not in the least offended, and lights her pipe again. “Wait till you grow old and dry, and the only pleasure you get is from hearing it secondhand from younger women. So, what does it look like? One lover services you, another your husband, and then you switch?”
I look at the women, their eyes rapt, cheeks flushed, and give in. I don’t have female friends to share this kind of gossip with, and frankly, I am curious, too.
“All right, I’ll answer your questions,” I say after downing a glass of chocolate liqueur. “But then you must answer mine. I never had a human man. I want to know what it’s like when it’s… normal.”
“Boring and unsatisfying,” Nasturtia says with a scoff, surprising me. “But then, unlike Susan, I never had lovers. Richard had a talk with me after we married. He said he’d hang the men and chop off my small toes if I ever dallied.”
She drinks her liqueur in one gulp, and I gape, appalled. Susan doesn’t seem surprised, though. She shakes her head.
“Richard has too much of the old emperor’s blood in him,” she says with a scowl. “None of his ancestors ever married outside of the Eleven. That’s why you couldn’t have children, I assume. Who’s his heir, then? I know you had a nephew in Zanvar, but the Tyrant slaughtered him, didn’t he?”
She gives me a challenging look, then turns to Nasturtia again. The queen of Trista waves her hand.
“He was a nasty boy and would have been an atrocious king. Do you know I found him in the stables once, cutting the paws off live kittens? Good riddance. Richard is talking to some far cousin who married a rich merchant across the Amber Sea. I don’t care anymore, and I’d much rather talk about Agnidari men.
Now, if you want to know what’s normal, Caliane, you must be ready for a depressing tale.
Molly, tell her what your husband does.”
The young, redhaired queen looks at her lap, wringing her hands in embarrassment. I think she’s younger than me, maybe eighteen.
“He, well, he brings in his mistress, usually one but sometimes two, and he, ah, tells her to get him hard because I don’t.
And she does, and then he closes his eyes and does it with me, and I’m forbidden from making a sound, because he doesn’t want to remember that he’s, uh, taking me and not her. ”
I gape at her, horrified. “But that’s… That’s atrocious! Is he blind or stupid? You’re beautiful!”
She looks up with a gasp, blinking at me with shock. “I’m really not. But thank you. No, he, ah, he prefers smaller women.”
I clench my fists and grit my teeth, seeing in her the exact same confusion and ache I myself felt when Arvi made me call myself beautiful. I stand up and go over to Molly, cupping her cheek in my palm. Her skin is smooth, complexion clear and radiant, and her hair looks like it’s on fire.
“Listen here,” I say, my voice so harsh, she flinches away.
I purse my lips and make an effort to speak more gently.
“Look at me. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life. You deserve to be loved and worshipped, and if your husband doesn’t, that means he’s an utter fool.
Don’t ever feel ugly because of him. He’s the one who’s wrong.
And you are a goddess, radiant and beautiful.
I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. ”
I don’t think she breathes as she stares up at me, her eyes glistening with vulnerability.
When they fill with tears, I reach for the handkerchief hidden in a small pocket in the fold of my skirts.
I wipe the tears that fall down her cheeks, and she sobs, wrapping her arms around me and hiding her face in my bosom. I hold her, stroking her hair.
Gods, I never realized how much my husband and knights did for me. I was just like her, uncertain of myself, bound by rules, scared of punishments. They coaxed me out of my chains with kindness and admiration, making me feel beautiful and loved.
But what would have happened if I had married someone like Molly’s husband? I would feel small, ugly, and stupid for the rest of my life.
And it’s not right. None of that is right.