Plans and Princesses
SEVRIN
Sevrin opened his eyes. A wave of irritation moved through him. He was still in bed, still at Kelsey Castle, still without strength.
He smelled her immediately. He had started to grow accustomed to that scent. He was not sure how he had not detected it before. It was specific, neither quite Yorali nor quite feeder. And there was something strangely familiar about it he could not place.
She sat in the same chair as before and looked at him with the same expression and he looked back at her with the same patience he applied to most things that had not yet resolved themselves.
"You are better," she said.
"Marginally."
She rolled her eyes. “You are a king, it is just a scratch. A scratch that would be long since healed if you would fucking go to the Bloodhaven.”
His mouth twitched. “I was stabbed through the chest. It was a little more than a scratch.”
“A scratch nonetheless.”
He looked at her. Her gown was a deep purple satin, her neck smooth. Like Asharin's, he thought.
Without wanting to, he noted her beauty. And her curves. As his eyes moved down her neck to her chest, everything in him went cold.
There it was. A mark he had only ever seen on one other person. A wing of gold etched into her collarbone, the lines curving toward her left shoulder, gleaming against her skin.
The Mark of Forizan.
"There was no point in covering it here," she said simply.
He could not hide his surprise. His shock. So many questions moved through him. How had she hidden this? Why had she hidden it? Did her father know?
Likely the King of Yorali did not know, or he would have certainly used it as a bargaining tactic.
No, this princess of Yorali was many things. Interesting was certainly one of them.
He nodded. "I am not stupid, Ivanoxa. You have clearly let me see it intentionally. Just as you clearly have something in mind, tending to me each day like this. Speak plainly."
She gave a small smirk. "Do not flatter yourself, weak king.
I am here in Briavar to strengthen myself so that I can take what I want.
The only castle available for such a thing is Kelsey Castle because it connects directly to the Bloodhaven and because it is always where—" She stopped herself.
Then continued. "It is where Axar has always permitted me to stay.
" A pause. "But it is a Rathmor castle. So we must share it. "
Sevrin said nothing. She spoke as though Axar were king of Morrath and not him. A different problem for a different day.
"And what are you after? No one here told you to tend to me like a common servant."
She smiled. "To get to know you, Majesty. I looked at your cock while you were sleeping. It is barely acceptable but sufficient enough.”
His eyes widened. He could not tell if she was joking or not.
"Enough with the mind games." His voice sharpened. "Every few seconds I am His Majesty and then I am a weak king. Make up your mind."
"Fine. Weak king it is," she said calmly.
"What do you want?"
"To marry you," she said. "And take the Rathmor throne as its queen."
He laughed hard enough that his chest seared with it.
"Why would I make you my queen? Was it not some time ago that your father tried to arrange such a marriage and you declined?"
She smiled. "Perhaps. Though you cannot believe everything my father says."
She stood and crossed to the vanity and pulled out a comb and began to work it through her hair. As though the room were hers. As though the comb were hers. As though the position of Rathmor queen were already decided and she could move through these chambers however she pleased.
"Get out," he said. His voice came out quieter than he wanted. The pain in his chest would not allow otherwise.
She set the comb down. "Do not be stupid, weak king. You may want your precious Asharin, but she does not want you. And worse yet, your brother has given the court the greatest show of power a Rathmor king can give."
"Heirs," Sevrin said.
"Yes." She turned to him. "I have the mark. I am your best chance at producing one."
He opened his mouth.
"Even if your goal is to marry Asharin one day and crown her, you cannot do it in your current state. Colsar will take the throne before you get near her and your council will follow him because he, unlike you, has secured the kingdom's future."
"Fiorakis is my heir," Sevrin said.
"She is his daughter. Do not be naive."
The room was quiet.
"I do not want you," he said. "I want her."
"Yes. But you are weak. I am strong. And let us not forget that you were willing to marry that whore of a sister."
"Yvara," he said. That was a mistake, he wanted to add, but thought better of it.
"You are no use to her if you cannot keep your own kingdom." A pause. "And moreover, I am the closest thing to her that exists."
He grimaced. "You—"
"We share blood," she said.
"What?"
"My mother is Alarnan." She shrugged. "More likely she is the daughter of one of my mother's sisters. Possibly Petunis. Though my mother was not known for making good decisions."
He knew he should argue. Question it. Accuse her of lying.
But he could smell it. All of it. It was the only reason he had tolerated her presence this long.
That familiar scent in her blood. Asharin's scent.
"How do I know you can bear children? Mark of Forizan or not, you are still a feeder."
"A feeder with much to offer."
He looked at the ceiling. Then back at her. "You are proposing something."
"I am proposing that two people with very little to lose and very much to gain consider whether their interests align."
"And if they do not?"
"Then we have wasted a conversation." She shrugged. "I have wasted worse."
He looked at her. She looked back.
She had made valid points. An heir and a formidable alliance would strengthen his claim. A stronger throne meant he could rid the world of Colsar and anyone else who tried to keep Asharin from him. However—
"I know what you are thinking," she said. "That once your reign is secure, you will kill everyone she loves until there is no one left to run to but you." She laughed lightly. "And now you wonder how you would get rid of me."
She sat on the edge of his bed. Her voice dropped. "You would not need to. When you take your golden princess, I will let you keep her and crown her. Provided you meet my conditions."
He felt the irritation of it. She spoke as though she were the one in charge. "What conditions?"
"I get Morrath. And any children I have with you inherit what they are owed." A pause. "And you legitimize my daughter and make her your heir."
He laughed out loud, more surprised by her audacity than by the existence of a daughter.
Nox waited for him to finish.
"How old is she?" he said.
"Young."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer I am giving."
"I will consider your...proposal," he said finally.
She nodded once.
"But," he added. "The only heir I will ever recognize is Fiorakis. I have already named her and I will not change that."
He would not disappoint Asharin again. He owed her at least that much.
Nox's eyes darkened. She said nothing further.
He looked toward the window. The light had changed since morning. He had been tracking it without meaning to. He was done speaking to her. He wanted to be alone, to think through what had just been said. He was still deciding how to tell her to leave when the door opened.
No knock.
A girl stepped inside. Small.
Her hair was dark at first glance, but when she passed the window he caught strands of indigo and burgundy twisting through it like a storm trapped beneath the surface.
He looked down. She was barefoot despite the cold of Kelsey's floors. She looked at him with disinterest, as though she had not just barged into his chambers uninvited, unannounced.
Then she looked at Nox.
Then back at him.
"Who is this?" he said.
"I am Aviaryn." She said it as though the answer were obvious. "I am her daughter." A pause. "My father is a Rathmor, apparently. Although I do not think it is you."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You do not seem like the type of man my mother would want," she explained.
Nox opened her mouth.
"And what type is that?" Sevrin could not hide his amusement.
"One who is more creature than human," Aviaryn continued, unbothered. "Humanity is a weakness. You have too much of it."
The room was quiet.
Sevrin looked at her. Then, slowly, something moved at the corner of his mouth.
Aviaryn turned to Nox. "I would like a story. Find one and have it read to me."
Nox stared at her. "A story?"
"Yes."
"You want—"
"A story," Aviaryn said again.
"Kelsey Castle has a library below," Sevrin said. He was looking at the girl with attention that had shifted from what it had been a moment ago. "I imagine there are stories there."
She considered this. "You are recovering."
"I am."
"Then you are not doing anything useful." She looked at the door and back at him. "The library is below. You said so yourself. Perhaps if I find something of interest I will bring it to you."
Nox made a sound that was not quite a word.
"But because you are weak and useless, and my mother either lacks the knowledge or is disinterested, I will find it myself," Aviaryn said simply. She turned toward the door.
"Can you read?" Sevrin said. He could not stop himself. For some reason he cared about the answer.
She stopped. Turned back.
"Of course I can read," she said. "How else have I been able to examine the ledgers and tax reports?"
She left.
The door did not close behind her. It simply remained open, as though closing it had not occurred to her as a necessary step.
Sevrin looked at the empty doorway. Then at Nox.
Nox was looking at the window.
He said nothing. In Morrath, children were not children the way they were elsewhere. He had known that for years.
Still.
He reached for the edge of his blanket and pushed it aside and swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed.
"What are you doing?" Nox said.
"There is a library below," he said. "Apparently."