Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Verna lay in the palace guest room in the dark and turned the argument over in her mind, looking for the weak points.
The Empire charters said nothing about gender.
They described the qualities required of a ruler and their capacity to act in the interest of the people, and not one mentioned the sex of the ruler.
The assumption had always been to have a male on the throne, but assumption and the law were not the same thing.
This was the argument she would make first.
The second argument was Fatima herself. Thirty years of watching an empire governed badly from the inside.
Her mother's patient education in how power actually worked as opposed to how it appeared to work.
A woman who had grown up understanding the palace the way Verna understood her estate. It was in her bones.
The third argument was the most practical and the one she thought would land hardest with Carlton. The empire needed stability. The council was temporary and everyone around the table knew it. A permanent arrangement needed to be established and Fatima was already here and prepared to stay.
There was a fourth argument that she intended to keep to herself unless needed. It was simply that the empire had been run by men for as long as anyone could remember, and after Borgine, perhaps it was time to try something different.
She got up at the morning bell, breakfasted, then waited in the meeting room. They arrived looking fresher than she felt.
The morning's first business took two hours: trade routes to be restored and the eastern campaigns to be wound down without creating further instability. When the business was finished, Verna put down her pen. "There is something I want to raise."
Nine heads turned toward her.
"The council is temporary," she said. "We all know this. The empire needs a permanent arrangement, a legitimate ruler in the eyes of the people." She swept her eyes around the table. "I want to propose that we consider Fatima."
Silence fell.
Carlton looked at her with the expression of a man who was not entirely surprised and Thom was very still. Then Hardy said carefully, "The emperor's daughter?"
"Yes," Verna said. "Borgine's daughter spent years watching her father govern badly and was educated by her mother in court procedure, so she knows how the empire functions.
Fatima is thirty years old, in good health, with no allegiances to any of the nine houses, and therefore no conflict of interest in governing all of them. "
"She's a woman," Mirran said, from the far end of the table.
"She is," Verna agreed pleasantly. "I noticed that too. I checked the charters twice and there’s nothing that restricts the throne to a male ruler. The assumption has always been that a male must rule, but the law is not the same thing as a supposition."
"It has never been done," Stellan said.
"Nor had a coordinated refusal of house funding," Verna replied. " We’re already doing things that have never been done, so I’m proposing we do one more."
Carlton frowned. " You're certain there’s nothing in the charters?"
"I’ve been through them with a fine-tooth comb," Verna replied. "I invite any of you to read them."
Carlton looked around the room. "Well?"
"She’s staying while her mother is leaving?" asked Thom.
"Yes," Verna said.
Thom rubbed his chin. "A woman who could have left. She knows this palace the way none of us do, and no reason to favour one house over another. The argument has merit."
"How would the people receive it?" Merrin asked.
Verna smiled. "The people of this city watched a woman stop a war bear in their arena three weeks ago. I think we may find them considerably more receptive than we expect."
"It changes the empire fundamentally," Hardy said.
"Yes," Verna said simply. "It does. That’s the point. Borgine was a harsh ruler and the people deserve something better. The Eastern wars have become a bloodbath, as well as taking all the funds that could be directed elsewhere."
Carlton looked at her for a long moment. "You've met her?"
"Yesterday. We talked at length. She is," Verna said carefully, "the most prepared person I have ever met for a position she’s never held. She knows this empire inside out, learning it since childhood. She is nothing like her father."
Carlton nodded, "Bring her to us after lunch. Is anyone opposed to at least meeting her and hearing what she has to say for herself?"
Nobody raised a hand.
"Thank you," Verna said. "I'll speak to her immediately."
She found Fatima in the palace library, sitting at the window with an open book in her lap. She smiled when Verna came in. "You've spoken to the council."
"This morning," she replied. She sat across from her and looked at her directly. " I want to ask you something. What do you actually want, Fatima, for yourself?"
Fatima held her gaze for a few seconds then said simply, "I want to be useful. I have spent thirty years watching this empire and understanding it. I am tired of being ignored. I want to do something with what I know."
"Good. Because the council wants to meet you after lunch."
Fatima was very still. "To discuss what?"
Verna looked at her steadily. "The throne."
Surprise flitted across Fatima’s face, then her expression settled. "They would seriously consider an empress?"
"Yes. Carlton asked for the meeting himself."
Fatima stared out the window. "What would I need to show them?"
"Yourself," Verna said. "That is all. Talk to them the way you talked to me yesterday.
Tell them what you know, what you've observed and what you think should change.
Answer their questions honestly." She paused.
"They are not unreasonable men. They have just spent a month doing things they didn't think were feasible, and their sense of what is possible has expanded accordingly. "
Fatima smiled at her. "You persuaded them."
"I presented the argument. There is nothing in the empire charters that prevents this. Only habit and assumptions."
The corner of Fatima's mouth moved. "You've been reading them."
"Four times," Verna said. "I wanted to be sure before I said anything."
Fatima went quiet, then said, "My mother would have liked you enormously if she’d known you better."
"I think I would have liked her too," Verna said. "I hope she finds her garden."
Fatima looked at the window again, the expression on her face registering love and grief. "She will. I’ll see you at one then."
"At one," Verna agreed. "I'll come and collect you."
"Thank you," Fatima said.
"Don't thank me yet," Verna said. "Wait until after the meeting."
The carriage rolled south along the coastal road in the late afternoon, and Verna sat with the window open despite the cold, because she could see the water.
She watched the road curve along the headland and thought about Fatima sitting at the council table.
The meeting went better than she had hoped.
Fatima had walked into the council room at one o'clock with the self-possession of an empress. She had sat at the table, looked nine house heads in the eye, and answered every question they put to her with a directness and a depth of knowledge.
Carlton had asked the hardest questions, as she had known he would, and Fatima had answered each one, citing specific decisions.
She referenced documents from her mother's collection by date and subject with the ease of someone who had read them many times.
When Hardy had pressed her on the eastern campaigns and what she proposed to do about the ongoing border wars, she had laid out a three-part approach which was so practical that Hardy had written it down.
By the end of it, Carlton had looked at Verna across the table and nodded.
The formal agreement would take weeks to arrange properly, but it was done.
They had an empress.
Verna had sat in the council room after the others had filed out, Fatima the last to go. She paused in the doorway to look back at Verna and smiled.
Then Verna had gone to pack her things to go home.
As the carriage reached the top of the hill, her mind wandered to Kalen. She had ridden back to the estate two days ago, while Verna stayed to begin the council's first business.
She had come to Verna's room the evening before she left and they made love a little desperately. Afterward, she had stood in the doorway and looked at Verna with the dark steady gaze that Verna had stopped finding unreadable some time ago.
Come home soon, Kalen had said.
I will, Verna had replied.
She was almost there now.
At the thought of the estate, she couldn’t wait to be home. She wanted to sit in the small room that looked out over the sea, drink wine and be somewhere that was hers.
Most of all, she wanted Kalen to stay.
She knew Kalen was going to leave. For weeks she had been avoiding the conversation, but soon she was going to have to have it.
Not tonight though. Tonight she was going to go home and sleep in her own bed.
Tomorrow, or the day after, they could discuss it.
She was not sure she was actually capable of being sensible about it, but she was going to try.
The whispering trees came into view, their silver leaves catching the last of the sun, and below them the estate walls were shrouded in the fading light.
The gate opened as the carriage approached, the guards on the wall raising a hand in greeting.
She returned it through the window as the carriage rolled through the gates and the estate closed around her.
Home.
The courtyard was quieter than usual at this hour, everyone indoors after their day's work. The carriage pulled up on the flagstones and the driver brought the horses to a stop.
Marleen climbed down first. "I’ll let Mistress Dara know you’re here, My Lady," she said and ran off up the stairs.
She sat for a little in the carriage, listening to the guards ride their horses to the stables and the driver follow them to fetch the livery girls.
Verna stepped down into the courtyard which was darker than she expected and quieter. The last of the light was gone now, the lamps along the portico not yet lit.
She registered this in the half second before the cloth came over her face.
It was thick, and smelled of something foul. When she sucked in a breath, it hit the back of her throat. She tried to reach for the ring, but her arms wouldn’t move.
The last thing she remembered was the flagstones against her knees, and the frantic hissing of the whispering trees, then nothing.