Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“The ifrak make for better company than my tutors, I’m afraid,” she says, stabbing her next bite with a level of vigor that makes me frown.
“How have your lessons been going?” I hazard.
Ingrid frowns, her shoulders tense when she looks at me across the table. “What have you heard?”
“Very little,” I say, not wanting to contradict what I just told her by admitting I haven’t had any updates on her progress. “But I’d like to hear your perception.”
“The lessons are extensive, but important if I’m to be the queen,” she says, already more diplomatic than some royals I’ve heard speak.
I nod, pressing no further while internally cursing myself.
I’ve neglected her. Ingrid doesn’t have to explain what’s happening in her classroom for me to want to have a lengthy discussion with her tutors.
I don’t need accusations or evidence; the quiver in her voice is all the proof I need.
The same kind of quiver that lurked in my tone when I expressed gratitude for my father’s mercy when he could have left me to the Wilds.
It’s a lie. An effort to convince herself whatever misery she’s being made to endure is for a greater cause.
But there’s no greater purpose. Only another one of my failures. My inexperience and uncertainty have led me to put distance between us, and now Ingrid’s struggling to keep her head above water.
I’ll fix it. I’ll find out what’s been happening in her lessons and correct any issues I find. The lessons aren’t meant to be punishment, and the realization that they may have felt that way to her makes me want to leave this very moment to make it right.
Not now, though. I’ll fix it, but not while I should be spending this time with my bride. For Ingrid, I’ll fix anything. Everything.
It’s a surprising thought, but not unwelcome. My instincts tell me to bat it away and shove down any associated feelings, but I stop myself, letting my gaze linger and soften on the woman who even still is trying to build some connection with me.
At some point, I have to stop pushing her away, or she’ll stop trying.
A hollow ache opens up like a sinkhole in my chest. I can’t let that happen.
“You know,” Ingrid says, idly looking into the depths of her wine glass. “I myself have been surprised by your absence on the training fields.”
“Captain Hilduin thinks me a distraction,” I answer quickly, before realizing that observation means she’s been looking.
“A shame,” Ingrid says, smirking while she swirls her glass. “I’ve found that at the right angle, I have a perfect view from my spinning wheel. It’s a pity I won’t have the pleasure of seeing you in action again. Perhaps I should speak with the captain.”
There’s no doubt from the teasing way she says it that she hopes to get a reaction out of me, and there’s no hope of hiding the reaction she’s gotten—warm, flustered heat blooms across my body, stony cracks and fissures aglow while I struggle for a response.
“Even if Captain Hilduin were to welcome me back to the bouts, I have an unending parade coming through these doors, demanding audience with me.”
Ingrid’s smirk fades, her mouth thinning into a thoughtful line instead.
“I have…heard of troubles. Nothing more than whispers when I’m unnoticed, but… Well, I know I’m only a human and I don’t belong to this world, but I don’t know how I can be expected to understand what is needed of me as queen when I haven’t been included in any of the reach’s operations.”
My silverware lays abandoned, the meal forgotten while I frown at my confusing bride.
“The problems of the reach are vast and complex; I didn’t think you had interest in—”
“In the duties of the role I’ve been assigned?” she challenges. “After Bright— After the incident with the ifrak, when you weren’t showing signs of recovery, I asked Valenar where the reach would be without you. Do you know what he told me?”
It would be better off.
“No.”
“He said it’ll have its first human queen. You might think you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length, but I need to prove myself as much as you do, Your Majesty.”
And I see it now. The set of her shoulders, the way she lifts her chin, not a single quiver as she stares at me from the other side of the table.
She’s a queen. She may not see it, but I do.
Val and Hilduin do.
And soon the reach will, too.
“There have been ongoing disputes in the northwest mountain country—”
“The contested lands with Iron?” she asks.
And now she’s left me speechless for an entirely new reason.
“The classroom may suit you more than you think,” I answer with a nod.
“Being so far from Crownwood, and with so little magic to go around, the Wilds have been particularly aggressive in their advance there. The high generals of Iron and I agreed to work together to dam the Aegis River, but progress has not been as fast as we hoped, and the encroachment is picking up speed.”
“Well, you can only build so fast,” she says, frowning.
“We can. Part of the agreement is that we build in accordance with Emerald customs, disturbing the land as little as possible… The high generals would have us blast a hole in the mountainside to dam the river with a landslide.”
Ingrid’s eyes widen, and the horror on her face reassures a fear I didn’t know I’d been holding onto.
“But that’s… Aren’t there homes nearby? Farmland? They would destroy it all? It’s barbaric!” Her cheeks flush and her fist pounds the table, every bit the steward of the land she needs to be.
I nod. “I have been advised we may need to evacuate the neighboring villages if we can’t stop the incursion—or if the high generals take matters into their own hands.
We have discussed both possibilities. I’ve also been encouraged to send more troops, to pull all the troops, to end the project, to rush the project, to shore up defenses, to cede the territory—”
“What?” Ingrid cuts in. “You can’t seriously be thinking of… Cede to whom? The high generals? Absolutely not.” She purses her lips and shakes her head as if the matter is settled.
Is it really so easy for her while I have wrestled with the dilemma for days?
“Having the cooperation of Iron Reach is a gift we cannot take lightly, though not one we can’t live without, correct?
The Iron Generals are strong, undoubtedly, but theirs is a small, unproductive reach.
If we cannot come to a continued agreement, Emerald is more than capable of proceeding without them, is it not?
” Though she adds the questions in, they’re for my benefit, not hers.
Her lessons have served her well, and now she’s said aloud the thing that no one else has dared to.
“We are,” I admit, the truth of it striking a chord deep within.
Emerald is resilient. All death brings new life, and the leaves must fall for the blossoms to reappear in spring.
I’ve let myself believe in the lie of winter and its barren limbs for too long.
Giving up has never been an option for me before, and it certainly isn’t now.
“Right,” Ingrid says with a curt nod, hands clasped atop the table. For so long I’ve only had Val to talk to like this, and he’s grown so weary of my doubts and indecision. Having Ingrid across the table and so engaged has thrown new fuel on my fire.
“So I know you’re getting all kinds of conflicting advice, and probably everyone has an excellent point about why their advice should be chosen above everyone else’s…
buuuut,” she says, drawing out the word with that glint in her eyes that makes my heart trip over itself.
“I think there’s one more advisor you should hear from. ”
“Oh?” The sly grin she wears, coupled with the way she traces the rim of her glass with her fingertip makes me think she might be aware of something I’m not.
“Mhm,” she confirms, nodding, her grin widening.
Very suspicious.
“Who might that be?”
“He’s a former general himself,” she says. “Served many years in the Emerald Wardens, fought valiantly at Goldenmere, and was willing to sacrifice his own life to save an infant ifrak.”
“Ingrid…”
“Oh, have you heard of him?” she asks, grinning in full now. “General Xandril, what course of action would you advise our king take?”
She’s teasing me, yes, but also, she has a point. When I was nothing more than a general, I never questioned what course the king should take. I advocated for my men and the land in the best way I knew, and trusted the king to make the correct call.
Learning that trust was misplaced in Farandir has led me to question so many things I once took for granted. But what would the general version of me think? Before I let doubt and obligation muddy my mind, how would I have approached this?
“Well… Your Highness,” I begin, straightening to attention in my seat, my thoughts beginning to assemble themselves into an orderly formation like well-trained soldiers instead of the ragtag brigands they’ve been.
“I would advise the king not try to sort through the conflicting reports from afar. That he might have more clarity if he visited the border personally. The subjects in the region are frightened by the uncertainty, and there are soldiers carrying out orders they disagree with. They could all benefit from reassurance and the knowledge that their new king is not the same feckless sort of coward that Farandir was. That he is not willing nor eager to abandon or condemn them for the grave sin of needing him.”
Ingrid’s still smiling at me across the table, her chin in her hands, looking all too satisfied with herself.
“I thank you for the insight you’ve offered, as well as the meal and enjoyable company, Your Majesty,” I say, pushing back from the table. “I regret that I can’t stay longer, but I’ve got some travel arrangements to make.”