34. THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FOUR
Mina
This has to be revenge from my sisters. I took too long to avenge their deaths, and now they curse me from the afterlife. An image of them sitting on either side of me, mocking each stroke of the needle, overlaps with the idle chitchat around me.
A sharp prick draws blood from my finger and soul, stinging both.
Embroidery is a favored pastime in most nations, but it’s the one lesson I ran away from more than any other.
Mother and Astrella loved to stitch stories from our childhood into pillows and tapestries around the house.
Even Garsif shared a knack for the delicate threads, though he focused on weaving codes that our spies used.
Textile shipments are a wonderful way to pass messages undetected.
I, on the other hand, prefer my sharp objects to be bladed.
The women around me make quick work producing images of flowers. The crimson thread I’m working with hardly forms a straight line. I have no image in mind, and my fatigue makes for sloppy fingers.
Lady Elena glances over at my progress and smirks. She returns to her own beautiful stitch work, pulling the thread through with a cocky flourish. I swallow the urge to jab her in the eye with my needle.
So what if needlework doesn’t come naturally to me? I’d like to see her try to wield a broadsword or dagger. We’ll see who’s smirking then.
Lady Olive also notices my mess of thread, but at least she offers a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t we take a break from our embroideries? I’d love to bring out a special vintage in honor of our guests.”
Relief races through me. “I would love to try it,” I say, my gratitude obvious.
One of her attendants gathers our work and sets it off to the side of the room while another carries in an expensive-looking, honey-colored glass bottle. Our positions on the various lounge chairs and couches have not changed, but the room shifts in spirit.
The amber liquid is strong with a spicy scent. It’s thicker than the wine we drank earlier, but so much more delicious.
“What do you all think?” Lady Olive asks.
I nod at Victoria, who’s practically bouncing out of her seat. Etiquette dictates I speak first, but I’m all too happy to share the spotlight with my ladies.
Victoria snorts the rim of the glass, and I nearly choke on my next sip.
“The wine at dinner was delicious, but this is a league of its own.” She gently sniffs the glass this time. “Elderberry infused with fresh honey…and spices? Is this cinnamon?”
Lady Olive slaps her hands together. “You have a marvelous sense of smell and taste. There are a few other spices as well. A secret blend from my grandmother.”
“Your family has been making wine for a while, then?” Kailani asks.
“Oh heavens, yes. As far as my ancestors can be traced. We’ve always dealt in fruit and eventually learned to ferment them. I must say I prefer my daily serving in this form.”
Laughter fills the room and rosy cheeks grin back at me. Even I’m starting to feel a bit warm and tingly. A sure sign that my drink is more potent than the last one.
“I might have to agree with you there.” I take another sip, rolling the nostalgic spices across my tongue. It almost reminds me of the cinnamon honey I always ate with breakfast.
I don’t know if the wine is to blame for the air of excitement, but it’s certainly to blame for my drastic change in topic. Wallowing into a cup is not going to end well and would be rather unbecoming of a queen.
Lady Olive seems like an adventurous spirit, and the others are just tipsy enough for this to work.
“Since you shared your family’s traditions, would you like me to share a few of mine with you?” I ask.
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Lady Olive’s eyes sparkle with excitement.
“I’m afraid it will require you all to stand for a bit.”
I set my glass down and wave Jaime over. I whisper my instructions, and she starts clearing the furniture to the edges of the room, leaving a wide space in the center for us to gather.
I instruct everyone to shed their heels. Our feet sink into the plush rug, and I marvel at the freedom by wiggling my toes.
“Oh, a dance. How exciting,” one of the guests says with a little clap.
I bite back a laugh. Fighting and dance have more in common than people think: practiced moves for an effortless flow. “Not quite a dance, but we can certainly use that situation as an example of when you’ll use my tradition.”
“What exactly is the tradition?” Lady Elena asks, tension lining her perfect posture. No amount of wine will change her distaste for my actions in the last battle.
I flash her my most dazzling smile.
“Self-defense.” Technically combat, but I’ve found people here tend to be more open to that phrasing. “As some of you already know, women in Kalisham hold many positions in politics and commerce, receiving the same opportunities as any man. Over half of our soldiers are women.”
“As it should be,” Victoria adds, cheeks flushed from the honey wine.
Lady Olive echoes the sentiment. She said this vineyard is her family’s legacy, not her husband’s. Based on the knowing twinkle in her brown eyes, she’s no stranger to women running things.
“The moves I’m going to show you are unique to Kalisham. Their potency comes from precision, not strength. Perfect for any body type.”
“Pardon me, but what does this have to do with a dance?” one of the ladies asks. She shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
I nod at Jaime and she joins me in the center of the room. “A ball or dance is just one example of how these can be useful. I’m sure you’ve all experienced someone being more forward than is socially acceptable?”
The group mumbles their agreements. Even Lady Elena begrudgingly nods along.
“Say you are at a ball. No guards are around because the usual threat is outside, and a gentleman decides to forsake the title. What do you do?”
They share nervous smiles, silently urging someone to speak. “There is no wrong answer,” I add.
Lady Olive breaks the silence. “I’d politely but sternly provide a reason to excuse myself.”
“And what if there is nowhere to excuse yourself to, or a firm tone falls on deaf ears?” I ask.
Kailani holds up her glass and takes a sip. “Accidentally spill my drink on them.”
Her answer earns several laughs, but I’m sure it’s no joke considering her former king.
The petite woman to my right answers next. “I’d continue to deflect their advances until someone notices and steps in to assist.”
“So you are at the mercy of a man’s respect for your boundaries or the observational powers of the people around you. Allow me to show you what women in Kalisham have in their tool belts.”
Jaime steps forward. I taught her defense moves within our first week together since attendants are a frequent target. She plays the part of the non-gentleman well, her fake manly voice easing the tension in the room and earning a few laughs.
When Jaime grabs my hand to kiss it, I counter-grip her, twisting her arm at an odd angle. She yelps and pulls back, shaking away the sting.
“I understand decorum is of high importance here, but you should be able to assert your boundaries without fear of retaliation. That being said, I’ll still show you some discreet ways to get the message across.”
I point to various spots on my hand and wrist. “Each of these areas causes a decent amount of pain when the right pressure is applied. The wrist can also be manipulated into subtle angles that cause tremendous discomfort.”
Elena opts out of the lesson, sipping her wine in the corner. I will not force someone to learn, but thankfully everyone else is happy to try. I pair the women off and show them where to touch, letting them practice for a few minutes.
With the help of more wine, nerves give way to excitement. Yelps of pain and fascinated laughter warm the room.
“This will come in handy while dancing. Wandering hands are a problem. I usually just pretend to mess up and slam my heel on their foot,” says a young woman. Lady Olive’s youngest guest is unmarried, so I’m sure she has to put up with a wide array of suitors.
“Oh, for actual dancing, there are so many great options. My personal favorite: trip forward into their groin.”
Jaime is a little short to be my dance partner, so Kailani steps up to play the next part. She leads me around the room in a twirl until I close the distance, lightly driving my knee into her upper thigh.
“Trust me. Nothing discourages wandering hands like unwanted attention down there. Men tend to be a bit precious about pain.”
Lady Olive snorts. “How true. My husband thinks riding his horse is more painful than birthing our first child.” Her eyebrows shoot up at her own admission, and we break out into laughter.
“Men have no idea the pain threshold a woman can bear. That’s why we make superior soldiers,” I say.
“Hear! Hear!” an attendant shouts from the corner. I grab my glass and raise it in her direction. Hopefully she won’t get scolded for the outburst.
I cover a yawn with my hand, willing to push past my fatigue for more lessons. It’s nice to be around people open to trying something new and different. It gives me hope that more women will step forward to train with me as soldiers.
Lady Olive polishes off her glass and yawns as well. “You must have had quite the journey, Queen Mina. I apologize for keeping you so late.”
“No apology necessary. I had a wonderful time.”
Genuine appreciation shines in her smile. “As did we.”
“Once my female soldiers finish training, I would be happy to dispatch some of them to teach you all more. Just send word.”
We all say farewell and part ways to retire for the evening. Two guards escort Jaime and me upstairs to a room at the farthest corner of the estate. Pale yellow curtains reveal a gorgeous view of the gardens. The floral bedspread is feminine and relaxing.
It’s the polar opposite of Darius’s all-black room. I can hardly picture him in the space without laughing.
Our guard directs my attention to the bed. “A gift came for you, Your Majesty.”
Jaime brings me the box. The weight pulls at my fatigued muscles, the small package surprisingly heavy. “From whom?”
“The emperor. May I assist you with anything else?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be in for the evening.” He steps into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
Giddy from the wine and the chance to see Darius’s sweet side, I rip off the ribbon and hand it to Jaime. She peeks over my shoulder, her excitement mirroring my own.
I lift the black-box lid and freeze. Dread slices through me as I swallow a scream.
Jaime empties her stomach, collapsing to the floor.