Chapter XVIII #2
Though Ariana still bled, it had lessened considerably without Crispus’s destructive touch.
She was stronger and felt almost well. When Orden had removed his doublet and breeches and washed, donning a clean, cedar-scented nightshirt, Ari found herself on her knees before him, all of her own accord.
He’d sat on the edge of Dolenza’s bed, and she’d taken him into her mouth with her lips that once sang Lyria’s most sacred hymns.
When he’d come undone, in a jolting rush of salt and heat and power, he bent over Ariana and breathed in the scent of her dark hair.
He swore to her that they were perfect together, that their son was perfect, and that the Honoria they’d leave him would be perfect too.
Starved for lack of something to worship, Ariana wanted to believe him. To believe in him. To have herself a king, if she could not have a goddess. And then he’d repeated his desire to her, that she should join the sorias at their worship if the opportunity arose.
“Yes, my lord,” she answered quietly, taking his hand when he stood and held it out to her.
“I have something for you,” Orden said, drawing Ari to her feet.
She gave him an uncertain look. The king turned from her, bent, and pulled a phelamon wood box from beneath the bed.
It was light, the slips of wood thin, the whole thing hardly thicker than a book, though at least twice the length and width of one.
Setting it down on the bed, Ariana opened the lid and froze.
Within the box, smelling of spices and night air, familiar as a second skin, lay her soria’s habit. The deep blue of the fabric had not faded. The silver stars embroidered around the neck still shone as bright as ever.
“I asked you to give it to me,” Orden said. “Our first night together, after you’d given me everything else. Your body, your mark, your faith. Do you remember? I said I would keep it safe for you.”
“Yes,” Ariana whispered. “I remember.”
“Will you wear it for me here, and worship as you used to once more?”
Ariana shut her eyes against the tears that burned behind them. She wanted to. She hated to. Just the idea of putting the habit on again felt like a lie, and like her dearest truth.
But she had given way to temptation, pulling the garment from its box, and then over her head.
It settled around her as softly and loosely as ever, as if the past seven years were no more than a dream.
When she slipped her hands into the pockets, she found them still full of small grains of meadowstar seed.
“My queen,” Orden said, a note of awe in his voice. “Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Now, it was apparent that he wanted something besides Ariana.
Something to do with the cloister. There was a sea change occurring, made from his unspoken desire and the tensions at council and his new acceptance of Ariana’s past. With a sinking sense of dread, Ari had begun to suspect that he would try for governance of the cloister in some way, in order to fuel his other wars.
Not one of his forefathers had managed to wrest control of the place from its Matria and sorias and the people of the Solis Plains, but Orden was, in many ways, not much like his predecessors.
With Ariana still deeply troubled by such thoughts, the council delegates arrived.
They came through the door en masse, an unlikely gathering of sovereigns.
Orden first, always determined to take precedence, with Lucian and Hadrian flanking him like faithful hounds despite Ariana’s request that they be left behind.
The spymaster was saying something in his soft, wicked voice, forcing the king to incline his head a little to hear.
The Priest trailed behind them, obviously and intentionally alone.
Next Gileta and Afon, speaking to one another in low and private tones. And last the Arbiter and Arbitress.
For the first time since she’d taken the role of Honoria’s queen, Ariana exercised her full rights.
As the rulers of the Hand swept toward her, she remained seated.
Even for Orden, she did not kneel, because to do so would have left her on her knees for the others.
She was deeply gratified when he came to her first, rather than assuming his place at the head of the table.
The others parted around them like water passing rock, while Orden took Ariana’s hand in his own and kissed it.
“My queen,” he said, and the smile he offered her was more an expression of the eyes than the mouth.
Ari stayed as she was while he sat, and the rest of the delegates saw their tokens.
Gileta held the dune flowers to her face.
The Priest tucked his paschalflower away in one pocket.
The Arbiter and Arbitress both flushed, sweeping the purses onto their laps and out of sight.
Afon took in the knife sheath, and his eyes narrowed.
Doubtless he understood what Ariana intended—that it was not just a gift, but a reminder that her king had already held Afon’s life in his hands once, and allowed him to live only at Ariana’s request.
It was Orden who spoke to begin the council session, but he did so at a look from his queen. All at once, she understood why he claimed the attempts at mediation in Inverlyn had gone so poorly.
“Let us end this charade today,” Orden said bluntly, without so much as an apologetic glance in Ari’s direction.
“The value of forthrightness has been brought home to me since arriving at Raea’s house.
My terms to renew peace with Caervallion and end preparations for war are simple—for the good of his people, Afon Caervallin must go into exile, leaving the Hand behind entirely.
Let him never set foot in these lands again, and I will not raise a sword or an army against Caervallion in his absence. ”
Afon’s answering laugh was a guttural sound of utter contempt and disregard.
“Nothing will sway me in this resolution,” Orden said, his chin jutting out in answering stubbornness. “No threats or bribes or pleading. So, Gileta, you may as well do what you came for and break off your relations with Honoria.”
The Imperatrice rose to her feet in a single fluid gesture of disdain.
“Do you know, I had honestly thought you different than your father and his father before him?” she said scathingly.
“I would never have dreamed of treating with Darias and Tobin. Not until your rule did I so much as cross Honoria’s border.
I was a fool to think an offshoot of your line might be anything other than tainted and bitter fruit rising from cursed roots.
Soria, take word to my retinue. We depart for Song Royale—our business here is at an end. ”
Ariana sat numbly as Gileta left. She stared down at the table before her, strewn with her careful preparations and the abrupt ruin of her final hopes for peace.
Afon rose next, with Gwylen following suit.
As he passed Ariana, his hand brushed her shoulder as if by mistake, but his touch burned like fire.
In a flash, she was at his mercy again, his grip crushing her throat, the world fading to nothing but the understanding that she would not, could not, ever beg for such a man.
She’d tear the soul from her body and cast it into eternal darkness before suffering that abasement.
Orden was speaking to Hadrian and the Priest seemingly without a care, and when the three of them wandered off, absorbed in their conversation, Ariana’s heart broke within her. She sat still as a stone for a long while, alone in the refectory.
Or so she thought.
“Do you know why we’re here?” an all-too-familiar voice asked from the back of the room.
Ariana remained motionless as Lucian appeared and dropped into Orden’s chair at the head of the table, offering her an insubordinate smile as he did.
“No, of course you don’t. You’re always out of your depth when it comes to the Invers.
Not once have you truly understood our ways. ”
“Enlighten me, then,” Ariana said wearily. Lyria’s light, he exhausted her. Even other members of the court were chary of Lucian, who had a gift for being in just the wrong place at the wrong time.
Lucian poured himself a glass from Orden’s untouched decanter of summer wine and took a meditative sip before answering.
“We’re here for the cloister, of course.
Orden means to take it. I’ve already begun planning for Dolenza’s removal in the very near future.
You do know what I mean by removal, yes? ”
It might not be true. Ariana hoped it was not, and that he was only trying to wound her. But she could not be certain until she asked Orden directly.
“Do you know what the difference is between you and I?” Ariana rose and drifted across the refectory.
“You’ve always assumed I’m a fool because you disapprove of my ways.
I disapprove of yours, too, but I’d never consider you foolish because of it.
Only dangerous, and proud, and utterly loathsome.
Someday, I suspect your arrogance will catch up with you. ”
She was nearly to the door when Lucian brought her up short.
“Make me an offer,” he said. “When I say you fail to understand the Invers, this is part of it—any proper queen with a king as tractable and generous as Orden would have outbid him and had me in her pocket years ago. So make me an offer for Dolenza Raeana’s life.”