Chapter 23 #2
The room seemed to grow colder. Councilor Thalindor cleared his throat.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice carrying the practiced smoothness of a politician, “a compromise could be found. The marriage could be noted as an addendum to the registry rather than a formal entry. A historical footnote, if you will.”
The insult was thinly veiled. “A footnote?” Aeryn’s voice sliced through the space like a blade. “I am not requesting charity or special consideration, Councilor. I am requesting adherence to your own laws.”
“My husband,” Aeryn continued, “is not a footnote to be tucked away where no one will see it. He is the Clanlord of Clan Druin, son of High Chieftain Korrath, and my lawfully wedded husband by treaty signed and sealed by two sovereign powers.”
“And he is the father of my child.” She gestured toward her growing belly. “A child who will bear both elven and orcish blood. A child who, by your own laws, must be recorded in the lineage of the Silver Bough.”
Shocked silence fell over the chamber. Several councilors exchanged alarmed glances. One elderly councilor visibly recoiled. “You are carrying a child?” The Queen’s voice had lost some of its imperious edge, replaced by shock.
Aeryn’s hand moved to her belly. “Yes.”
For a fleeting moment, the queen’s composure fractured, revealing something more complex than disgust. Fear, perhaps. “You would bring such a child into our records?” The question came from another councilor, an elderly woman whose silver hair was bound in elaborate braids.
Aeryn lifted her chin higher. “Yes. Precisely that.”
The room erupted in murmurs; the councilors turned to one another in hushed conversation.
Queen Elindra raised a hand, silencing them.
“You ask much of this Council,” she said, her voice tightly controlled.
“To acknowledge an orc as consort to a daughter of the Silver Bough is one matter. But to record a mixed-blood child in our sacred lineage...” She paused.
“There are implications beyond mere record-keeping. Inheritance claims. Council eligibility. Rights your child could demand.”
Khaeric spoke beside her, low and precise. “And what implications would those be, Yer Majesty?”
Queen Elindra’s face hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she regarded Khaeric with cold calculation. “The implications,” she finally said, “are that our records remain pure. Untainted by outside influences that might... dilute what we have preserved for millennia.”
“Untainted,” Aeryn repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. The word tasted bitter on her tongue. “You speak of dilution. Of purity. As if my child—” Her voice caught, and she forced herself to breathe. “As if my child were some contamination to be quarantined.”
Queen Elindra’s expression remained impassive, though something flickered in her eyes—perhaps recognition that she’d overstepped, or perhaps satisfaction at having provoked a reaction. “I speak of preservation, niece. Of maintaining what has been carefully guarded for—”
“Then remove my name instead.” The words had left Aeryn’s lips before she’d fully formed the thought.
Gasps rippled through the chamber. One councilor stood, his chair scraping against the floor. The calm facade the Queen had worn since their entrance wavered; color rose, bright and sudden, high in her cheeks. “What did you say?” Her voice had lost its melodious quality, turning sharp.
“If the bloodline of the Silver Bough is too pure to acknowledge my husband and child,” Aeryn said, each word deliberate and clear, “then it is too pure for me as well. Strike my name from the records.”
Khaeric’s entire body went rigid beside her. The hand at the small of her back curled, pressing against the fabric of her dress.
Then he exhaled. She felt the tremor run through him, watched his free hand clench and unclench at his side. Once. Twice.
But he said nothing.
“You would renounce your bloodline?” Queen Elindra’s voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Over this?”
“I would force you to acknowledge your hypocrisy,” Aeryn replied, her voice steady despite the thundering of her heart.
“Either the law applies to all, or it applies to none. If my husband is not worthy of record, then neither am I.” She tilted her head.
“Or have you forgotten that I am of mixed blood as well?”
Queen Elindra’s face had gone completely still, like a mask carved from marble.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low and dangerous.
“You would threaten to remove yourself from our records? A daughter of the Silver Bough?” Her fingers curled around the arms of her chair.
“This is mere childish defiance,” she said dismissively.
“It is a choice. One I have the right to make.” Aeryn met her aunt’s cold stare. “Either my family, my complete family, is acknowledged, or I request formal removal from the lineage rolls.”
Councilor Mirielle rose, her silver braids trembling with outrage. “Do you understand what you’re proposing, child? Without lineage acknowledgment, you would forfeit all inheritance rights, all protection under elven law, all claims to sanctuary within our borders.”
“Then that is the choice you force upon me. My child will know their father’s honor even if they cannot claim their mother’s heritage,” Aeryn said.
Queen Elindra’s fingers drummed once against the arm of her chair. “You speak of tradition while seeking to upend it entirely. The Council will deliberate on this matter privately.”
Aeryn’s blood flashed hot. Deliberate? In private? After this public humiliation? She swept into a bow so deep and prolonged that it bordered on mockery.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Aeryn said, her voice honeyed with false sweetness.
“The Council must have its... deliberations. Though I wonder what laws you’ll need to consult that haven’t already been made clear.
” Without waiting for dismissal, she spun on her heels.
The rustle of her silk gown seemed unnaturally loud in the stunned silence.
Khaeric hesitated briefly before his heavy footfalls followed her.
“Princess Aeryn,” Envoy Thalion’s voice rang out behind them. “The Queen has not dismissed you.”
Aeryn halted, her back still turned to the Council. Every muscle tensed as she fought the urge to continue walking. Slowly, deliberately, she turned.
Queen Elindra had risen from her chair, her hands gripping the edge of the dais. “You forget yourself, niece,” she said, her voice carrying the chill of winter frost. “This is not your father’s court, where you may come and go as you please.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Aeryn said, the formal words at odds with the steel beneath them. “I mistook your dismissal of my family for a dismissal of my presence.”
A muscle twitched in Queen Elindra’s jaw—another crack in her perfect composure. “The Council requires time to consider the unique nature of your request.”
“How much time does it take to follow your own laws?” The question left Aeryn’s lips before she could stop it.
Queen Elindra’s face hardened as she descended one step from the dais.
“Your human blood speaks too loudly in these halls, niece. Your father’s impulsive nature mars what should be thoughtful discourse.
” The Queen’s voice carried a brittle edge.
“Patience and reverence for proper procedure are virtues you might have learned had you been raised among your true kin.”
The words human blood speaks too loudly echoed in Aeryn’s mind, crystallizing everything in an instant.
“I reaffirm my earlier request: strike my name from the records.” Her voice rang clear through the chamber.
“If my human side speaks too loudly for these hallowed halls, then strike my name from your precious records.”
Queen Elindra’s face went rigid, her nostrils flaring as she stared at Aeryn. “We will consider your petition,” she finally said. “The Council will send word when we have reached our decision.”
Aeryn dipped into another curtsey, one that barely satisfied protocol. “As you wish, Your Majesty. We await your decision.”
The envoy guided them from the inner hall, his face neutral though his posture betrayed discomfort.
Aeryn walked with her head held high, refusing to show weakness despite the trembling in her legs.
Khaeric’s presence beside her was steady, a mountain at her flank.
Envoy Thalion led them through the grand corridor to an ornately carved door.
“You may wait here while the Council deliberates.” He pushed the door open to reveal a modest receiving room.
Aeryn swept past him without acknowledgment, Khaeric close behind.
The door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving them alone in a room designed for elven nobility awaiting an audience.
Delicate furniture adorned with silver filigree occupied the space—chairs too small for Khaeric’s frame.
Tall windows allowed sunlight to stream through colored glass, casting prismatic patterns across the floor.
Aeryn paced the length of the room, her silk skirts swishing with each step. Her hands trembled. “Remove my name,” she muttered. “What was I thinking? I’ve jeopardized everything we came for.”
Khaeric lowered himself onto the floor beside the windows, his back against the wall. He watched her, tracking her agitated movements. “Ye made quite an impression.”
Aeryn stopped pacing and turned to face him. “I threatened to remove myself from my mother’s lineage. I practically declared myself human in front of the entire Council.” She pressed her fingers to her temples.
Khaeric laughed. “And here I thought I’d be the one causin’ trouble today.”
Despite herself, a reluctant smile broke through her anger. “I didn’t plan to say any of that,” Aeryn admitted, moving to join him by the window, lowering herself onto the floor. “We came to secure your name and access the Memories,” she said. “Instead, I offered them mine as a sacrifice.”