LI Sisters #2
Magnar pats my back, and I get up, going to Khay. His body heaves with breaths that verge on sobs, and I wrap my arms around him without a word. What is there to say? They did wrong, they learned, and they stopped. Many people don’t ever stop the bad things they do.
“I don’t deserve you,” Khay whispers hoarsely, his arms loose at his sides.
“Oh, Khay, what nonsense. Hug me back. I love you.”
He takes a shaky breath, and wraps his arms around me. His embrace is tighter than comfortable, and I surrender to it, letting him have whatever he needs to soothe his pain.
When he pulls away, he’s calmer, though his eyes are swollen purple. Magnar gets up and stretches, then grabs a hairbrush to get tangles out of his hair after the night.
“I planned on attending the Gathering alone, but since you know why we’re here, could you come with me? I’m ready to give up half the yield from the mines in Zanvar, but I don’t know what I’ll do if that’s not enough. I need you.”
“They will not admit me,” I say with a bitter smile. “No women allowed.”
Magnar scoffs. “Then we’ll leave. Let’s see what happens.”
In the end, I come with him. The Table of Kings is situated on the top floor of the palace, under a beautiful dome of glass.
The room is flooded with sunlight, and the sea breeze falls in through open windows.
The table is old, made during the old emperor’s reign centuries ago.
The wood has darkened over time. It stands out against the bright backdrop of the cream floor and walls.
Everyone else is already in when we enter, seven kings turning to look at us with varying degrees of hostility and scorn. Sidonius, who presides at the table as the impartial Master of Peace, rushes over to us with a worried expression.
“Welcome, welcome, King Magnar. I am afraid Her Highness will need to wait outside. I am sure you understand. It’s an ancient tradition.”
“Is that so?” Magnar asks, raising an eyebrow. “I follow my wife wherever she goes. If she can’t stay, I won’t, either.”
King Xander gets up in outrage, and a few others exclaim their protests.
“That is beyond rude! You should be happy we invited you at all!”
Magnar snorts under his breath. “You invited me because I have something you want. However, I see you care more about traditions than copper and iron, and I respect that. I am sorry to have wasted your time. Come, dear.”
We’re out the door when there’s a bustle behind us, and Sidonius runs out, waving his arms. He wears a satisfied smirk, though it disappears fast as he schools his features into a somber expression.
“Wait! Please. The kings invite you back, and Her Highness, as well.”
Magnar tsks, shaking his head mockingly. “Ah, not so devoted to tradition, after all.”
When we come in, the kings shoot us sullen, unfriendly looks.
They must feel quite humiliated. Having to ask Magnar to return is a show of weakness, one they will try to make up for.
A shiver of uncertainty crawls down my spine.
Maybe it wasn’t the wisest move for Magnar to waste this gesture on me when he has more important things to negotiate.
Sidonius hovers behind us, wringing his hands. “We have only eight seats for eight kings. Let me have someone bring…”
“No need.”
Magnar sits down and tugs me into his lap, sitting me sideways.
I gasp and grab onto the edge of the table, my stomach flooding with anxiety.
He sits straight, his hands loose around me, and the setting is vastly different from when we usually do this.
There is no sprawling ease and languor. No man wanting to hold his wife close for comfort or pleasure.
This is a show.
My father’s voice slithers through my mind. “A good politician always hides his unease, my prize. Now, sit straight and smile. Nothing should ruffle you. Not even this.”
His hand crawls up my waist and cups my breast, then travels farther up, fingers hooking under my neckline. I am frozen, my breaths shallow and fast, my body a block of ice. It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged what he’s doing. I’m sixteen.
Magnar’s hand tightens on my hip, and I come to with a sharp inhale. As I look up, I meet unfriendly eyes of men, men who sat in this very room with my father, men as bad as him, maybe worse. My heart keeps pounding, and I’m terrified I’ll be sick.
But if I make a scene, Magnar’s chances at achieving what he needs will plummet. He doesn’t know I’m broken like this. I haven’t told him. It’s not his fault.
“Do you want to step out?” he asks in the barest murmur, making a show of adjusting his chair.
I shake my head, forcing a deep, calming breath into my body. This isn’t my father. It’s Magnar, and he’d never hurt me. Sitting in his lap isn’t dangerous. I’m safe.
That’s what my mind keeps thinking, but my body is still frozen. I breathe and force my shoulders to drop, my lips to smile, my back to relax. It’s no use. The shame lives in my belly, a slithering, hungry beast, and it won’t let go.
“Thank you very much for bending your tradition just for me, gentlemen,” Magnar says smoothly, sitting back. “So, how does this go? I’ve never been to one of these.”
“And yet you make preposterous changes even before everyone gets settled,” Xander hisses out through clenched teeth.
I give him a careful look to distract myself from the snakes in my belly. He’s in his late thirties, so much older than Molly. His complexion is bad, chin double. He’s slim, but weakly built. His moustache is a pitiful affair.
Molly is a thousand times more attractive than her husband, not to mention almost twenty years younger.
“Men feel threatened by their betters, my prize,” my father speaks helpfully from my memory, phantom fingers stroking my thighs.
“That’s why you should never let yourself appear better than a man, or he’ll do cruel things to prove you’re his inferior.
Insecure people can be vicious. Will you remember? ”
Could it be that Xander feels threatened by his wife’s beauty and that’s why he brings her down so harshly?
Magnar laughs, embracing me for a moment, his movements careful like he can tell I need gentle handling. “What can I say? I’m a man in love, and I can’t be parted from my wife even for an hour. I am sure you understand.”
The looks they give him are suspicious and narrowed, and I realize they are trying to figure out Magnar’s deception. Except—there is no deception. He really enjoys having me by his side.
Richard, the king of Trista and Nasturtia’s husband, leans his elbows on the table, folding his palms into a triangle. He’s a severe man, cleanly-shaven, with short, silver hair. His eyes are dark and cruel. He was my father’s close friend, just like Nasturtia was my mother’s.
“Usually, we would start with some light chit-chat, but since you have brought a woman, we’ll have to dispense with that part. My lady.”
He gives me a cool nod. I want to ask what they usually talk about if my presence prevents it, but my stomach is queasy, my throat tight, and I’m afraid my voice will break.
Magnar shrugs. “Good thing I brought her, then. I hate wasting time. You want my mines, don’t you?”
The kings shuffle in their seats, a few leaning forward. I see their hesitation and uncertainty. Magnar is a dark horse. No one knows what to expect of him, and he didn’t give them a chance to feel him out through idle conversation.
“And you want something in return,” Richard says easily, his eyes boring into Magnar. “Or you wouldn’t have come all the way here.”
Magnar shrugs. “True. What are your iron and copper needs? Let’s haggle.”
Xander thumps his fist on the table. “That’s not how we do things,” he bites out. “You have no manners!”
“I have iron and copper,” Magnar says, his voice perfectly patient and just a tad condescending. “You won’t make tools out of manners, my friend.”
“I am not your friend!” Xander hisses, and Magnar smiles suddenly, baring all his teeth in a shocking display. Xander flinches, and a few others curse. Only Richard remains impassive.
“For the sake of efficiency, Magnar, why don’t you say what you came for. Then we’ll haggle.”
“Very well.” He leans closer, leveling each king with a hard stare. “I know you have Agnidari brothels in your kingdoms. I want my people back, all of them to the last one.”
There is a moment of stunned silence, and then—then—they burst out laughing. All as one, the kings cackle and thump the table, some slapping their thighs. Xander has tears of mirth in his eyes. Magnar’s hold on me tightens, and I tense, waiting with mounting dread for what’s next.
Finally, they calm down, and Richard turns to Magnar with a confident, easy smile. My hackles rise. Danger.
“Of course, dear friend. We’ll give you back every Agnidari who stays in our kingdoms at this moment. In return, we want eighty percent of your iron and copper yield—in perpetuity.”
Sidonius looks up sharply, his lips parting as if to say something. Richard shoots him a fast, quelling look.
“No,” I say, flinching when I hear my voice, loud and sure.
Xander scoffs. “You let your woman speak for you? That’s just a cherry on top. Are you as disappointed as I am in the Great Tyrant, gentlemen? I expected him to be fierce and strong, and not henpecked… Ah, forgive me.”
He grins with clear scorn. Magnar is silent for a beat as they wait for him to react, and gods, I am so proud of him. Here it is, his control, his authority. Xander doesn’t know that, but Magnar’s power is exactly this—not reacting at first instinct.
“I must say your haggling skills are quite poor,” he says at length, then does the unthinkable—he yawns.
I stifle a giddy gasp when the kings clear their throats and mutter under their breaths, clearly annoyed by that insult.
“Sleep on that, will you? I’d rather spend the rest of today in more pleasant company.
Unless you have something else to discuss? ”
Richard slowly shakes his head, his glare piercing as if he tries to look right into Magnar’s soul.
The Gathering ends, though I’m sure the other kings will talk without Magnar present.
So here it is, the divide—them against him.
I don’t think it could be any other way, yet I still wonder what we could have done to prevent this.
Sidonius makes to follow us out, but Richard calls him back sharply, and he sighs, his shoulders dropping. I remind myself I should speak with him, but I’m hardly able to do that now.
When we come to our room, Arvi and Raduna are already back, both pacing, agitated and angry. As soon as Magnar closes the door behind me, they rush to his side, executing hasty salutes.
“My king! We found Khay’s sisters.”