XVI | FAMINES ABUNDANCE
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Celvene at least hoped it would be a better meal than the dinners provided at the castle.
While there wasn't anything wrong with what was given to her—and it was at the very least an improvement over the meals she'd had while working at Painted Sky—it was.
.. bland. She'd never been to a tavern, but she'd expected the food would have flavor.
Instead, while she and Oriel waited for the rest of the council to arrive, the owner of the tavern had supplied them with bread rolls and red wine.
Celvene didn't want to sound picky or unappreciative—after all, it was a free meal, something she'd have begged for in the past—but the selection wasn't exactly comfortable.
The room was small, nestled on the second floor of the tavern like Oriel had said.
A wooden table stretched from one end of the room to the other, decorative plates and napkins seated at each seat.
A few empty crates collected dust in one corner, and in the other, a large vase of flowers drooped.
The tavern downstairs wasn't any more luxurious.
"So, um, how do I pour this?" she asked, staring at the bottle of wine. A year from far before Celvene was born was scrawled onto a piece of paper plastered across the front of the black glass. "Were you alive when this was made?"
"Had you asked that to someone who wasn't immortal, you'd have offended them, Celvene," said Oriel, but they picked up the bottle, a small gadget next to it, and stuck the sharp end of it into the cork.
They popped off the cork and the strong scent of tart berries flooded the small dining area. "But yes. For quite a while."
"I'm not good at small talk."
"That's fine," they replied, sliding her glass over and pouring a disproportionately small amount of wine to the size of the wine glass.
The silence felt deafening. When Oriel placed her glass back in front of Celvene, she frowned. "Are you worried I'll get drunk? Make a fool of myself in front of the council?"
Honestly, she wouldn't have blamed them if they said yes. But when they poured the same amount into their own glass, her frown deepened.
"Oh," she said. "You're supposed to do that."
"How old are you, exactly?"
"Old enough to take the crown..."
"If you'd like to be technical, you've been able to take the crown for years."
"I'm eighteen, Oriel."
"I take it you've never drank wine, then."
Celvene bit back a retort before picking up her glass and taking a long, deliberate sip. It took all her willpower not to let her face scrunch up at the sour taste of the drink. When she placed it down, mouth buzzing from the unpleasant flavor, little more than half was left. "Of course I have."
Oriel eyed her for a moment, then chuckled. "I'd advise not touching that glass again until the night is over."
Celvene, once again, restrained herself from making a sarcastic comment, because Oriel was right, even if their stupid wit wasn't how she wanted them to speak with her.
She wondered if they'd ever spoken with Virion like that.
But she'd liked the momentarily soft version of Oriel that had invited her to dinner. She wanted more of that Oriel.
Though, at least, Oriel was far more fun and tolerable to be around than most other people she'd met.
Oriel took a sip of their own wine before sloshing around the liquid in its glass. "They're coming."
A few seconds later, the door clicked open, and five people dressed in outfits that were probably worth more than Celvene's existence walked in.
A steady stream of chatter followed them in, accompanied by jeers and laughs flooding up from the first floor that ceased as the final member closed the door.
"Oriel," one of them said, smiling. Like the other council members, he had deep green eyes, an indication he was originally from Aizasea. So Oriel was the odd one out here.
"Alric," Oriel replied, returning the expression. After pushing the bottle of wine across the table, they clasped their hands together. "It's a pleasure to see you again after so long."
"And you as well. A delight, as always." The man—an older fellow with a head of thinning gray hair and dark skin—beckoned for one of his accomplices, a pale woman with blonde hair, to sit next to him. "Please, Ilyrai."
She nodded, exhaled through her nose, and sat down with effortless grace. The others near her sat as well, readjusting their chairs and fidgeting with the plates in front of them. None of them met Celvene's eyes.
"Let's get started," Alric said.
"This is it? There aren't many council members," Celvene commented, and when the other councilmen turned to look at her, she took a slow, awkward bite of her roll. The bread was dry and brackish in her mouth. "Uh... slip of the tongue?"
"You're sure this is the right girl, Lord Veylor?"
Oriel sighed. "She used the same excuse with me yesterday."
"Lord?" Celvene echoed simultaneously, then snapped her mouth shut.
She was embarrassing herself, and she wasn't even drunk.
Of course lord would be one of Oriel's titles.
Like she'd thought when she'd first met them, Virion likely left properties and the like in Oriel's name, and she didn't doubt they had enough resources before that to overlook a portion of the city.
That didn't make the thought any less odd; now knowing Oriel, she wasn't sure she could see them ruling over people.
Their style seemed catered towards laying low and staying out of the public eye—allowing crowds to bask in their glory excluded.
Before she'd met them, she'd never seen them, and looking at the other councilmen, she recognized them from various circus performances.
Were they all lords as well? What did Virion oversee, exactly, if other people controlled much of Aizasea?
The door opened, and a worker whisked through, platters of food in their hands. They placed dishes of varying sizes in front of each councilor and saved Celvene for last, to her confusion. She was sitting between two of the councilmen; the worker had to go out of their way to avoid her.
Celvene glanced down at her food. She recognized none of it. Her nose crinkled.
"I control most of Sable Quartz discreetly," Oriel said, a bit of tightness to their tone that they ironed out after clearing their throat.
Their features remained impassive even as the worker handed them a glass of water; why were they speaking of this with an outsider in the room?
"I know what you're thinking. Virion still controlled our hands.
If he didn't, Aleksandr would have been kicked out of the palace the moment Virion died.
But despite our titles, we don't have the power to overthrow the king, confirmed or not.
And like Aleksandr has been flaunting, he has the control of the entire army. "
"I thought you were a scholar."
"When you live for as long as I have, you tend to bounce from profession to profession.
I tend to Sable Quartz on the side. Virion appointed me his only advisor when he disbanded the council.
It left little time for anything else. I have little interest in controlling any of this kingdom.
I only continue to do so because I haven't found a suitable replacement. "
If Celvene hadn't been impressed before, that would have done it for her.
Sable Quartz was one of Aizasea's most wealthy and prosperous districts, and though Celvene hadn't lived to see it happen, she'd heard through stories that it used to be one of the shadiest districts in Aizasea, comparable to the Slums. If Oriel was able to fix that district in a matter of years while their hands were busy elsewhere, maybe they did need to take the throne.
"My past is not important at the moment," Oriel continued, though Celvene would disagree, "but what is important is the problem sticking its obnoxiously large nose in our faces."
"Would Vosalon help us? They've proven a valuable ally in the past," said Ilyrai, picking up her cutlery and slicing into a piece of mystery meat. "Abbiu, you've done trade with them in the past, have you not?"
"I have. But their queen is a tricky one. I doubt she would help," said Abbiu, and he'd already cleaned half his plate. Come to think of it, he was far more rotund than the average citizen in Aizasea. "Oriel, what about Khezzintis?"
Oriel's jaw locked, their dark gaze fixated on the table. "I'm..."
"Not exactly on speaking terms with your father. Right." Alric placed a fork against the table. "Ulynica, any ideas?"
Celvene looked at the one councilor who hadn't spoken. All they responded with was a small shrug.
A rush of adrenaline—or maybe the need to prove herself—surged through Celvene, and she quickly said, "Train me."
"What?" each of the councilors, save for Ulynica, echoed in unison.
"Train me. Teach me what to do against Aleksandr. Teach me what to do so I can learn how to lead this kingdom. Tell me what I need to do to survive."
Silence hung over the group uneasily, scarcely broken up by conversation that rose from the lower floor. Celvene's mystery meal laid nearly untouched in front of her, and it felt like she wouldn't have much of an appetite soon. The others didn't seem to share her troubles.
"It seems we will need to train you in terms of..." Ilyrai slowed her chewing, "well, everything."
"We should begin with her decency," chimed in Abbiu. "No respectable queen should act as she does."
What, is every member of the council a jerk? Or is it just a rich person thing?
Her annoyance must have shown on her face, because one glance at her had Oriel placing their napkin down and coughing into a gloved fist. They readjusted their glasses.
"Celvene has been thrust into an impossible situation and is still standing.
I'd call that more respectable than any etiquette lesson could teach.
That being said, guidance is valuable when given with patience.
Perhaps we should focus on what truly matters first." Their tone softened a bit as they said, "Besides, she's far younger than us.
Life hasn't sunk its claws into her as much as it has into us. "
Abbiu's gaze hardened. "A ruler who lacks experience is a liability.
It is not a matter of patience here, Veylor.
With how the kingdom is faring now, it is a matter of survival.
With Noriya knocking on our doorstep, we need someone who will take the problem by its horns.
Someone who isn't Aleksandr, because we all already have our suspicions regarding him. "
Oriel's dark eyes flicked over to Celvene, and they brought their clasped hands to frame their chin, leaning into their gloves. They said nothing. Were they nudging her to respond? Was that really a good idea, given how much she'd already embarrassed herself?
She squared her shoulders, inhaling. "You're right," she said, and she saw Oriel grimace out of the corner of her eye.
"I don't have the experience you all have, and I won't pretend like I can learn it overnight.
But I am not ignorant. I am not unwilling.
I am not undetermined. If survival is what matters most, then teach me what I need to know to save our kingdom.
And in return, I'll prove to you I can be more than just a liability. "
The councilors exchanged amused glances. Oriel leaned back in their chair. Then, after another beat of quietness, the silent councilor spoke.
"Give her a chance," they said, their voice gruff and not befitting of their soft-edged appearance. "She's young, but she has a fighter's heart."
"She doesn't have time," Alric said. "Aleksandr will have that crown by morning if we waste time training her."
"Oriel is a fine mentor. They can handle it. And if needed, we will provide help. But there's not enough time for her to learn everything she needs. For all we know, Aleksandr plans to take the throne at the ball," Abbiu said.
Celvene's stomach twisted. He had a point—it wasn't one Celvene wanted to think about the possibility of.
"You're right," she agreed, swallowing the knot in her throat. "They're as fine a mentor as I can ask for. But Aleksandr isn't exactly a small threat—"
"Which is why we're powerless," Alric said.
"You have power and territories—"
"Not enough to defeat Aleksandr," replied Abbiu.
"When Virion was alive, you had the most power in Aizasea—"
"No," Ilyrai finished. "We didn't. And we never will. But that shouldn't stop Oriel from helping you."
"And why should it stop you from helping me?" asked Celvene tightly.
"We never said we wouldn't ever help you," said Alric. "But we don't have much to share."
Celvene's mouth tightened into a straight line; if anyone had an abundance of resources in Aizasea, it was the people sitting in front of her. But she remained quiet.
"They'll clean up dinner soon. You'd best finish that meal if you don't want to resort to eating the palace slop.
I swear, they've never tried to improve the peasants' food.
A shame," Abbiu said, shaking his head as if he was disappointed.
As if he didn't have the power to try to change that fact when he held power in the castle.
Out of touch and stupid. I guess I should've expected this.
And with allies like these, can I ever beat Aleksandr?
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