Chapter Fourteen

The feathers of Darius' wings rustled with his movement as he paced from one side of the broad hallway outside his mother's study to the other. He'd dismissed the guards; having them there while he waited for Naratha to finish her conversation with Alethia made him feel slightly ridiculous, like a child waiting for his mother to deliver a scolding for some infraction or other. Which was, again, ridiculous. It wasn't as if he'd scared the life out of half the city by rising out of the harbor as a leviathan.

He stifled a sigh. Theatrics were all well and good, and he couldn't deny that Alethia's had been impressive, but it was a fairly large breach of etiquette for her to arrive without sending notice of her intentions. He suspected his mother would have some words for her on that subject, but then again, perhaps not; there might well be other matters that she considered more important to discuss in an initial interview with a potential prince's consort.

At that moment, the olivewood doors swung open, revealing Naratha and Alethia. Alethia exited the room, head held high, then gave a graceful bow to Darius, somehow managing to make the gesture more of a polite nicety than a mark of subservience.

"Your Highness," she said, with a nod in greeting as she rose.

"Darius, Alethia has just been telling me of her excellent work in protecting our trade routes," said Naratha with a gracious inclination of the head toward Alethia. Darius resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Apparently Naratha wasn't overly upset by Alethia's antics, if that was what she'd chosen to focus on. Perhaps she was even secretly impressed. "I've invited her to stay as our guest in the palace for the week, to rest from her travels," Naratha continued. Darius read the subtext immediately; she was instructing him to spend at least a week with Alethia before making a decision about whether or not to proceed to a formal courtship. She must like her so far, then— some girls had only gotten two days.

"Would you be so kind as to act as host?" Naratha asked. "I'm sure that Alethia would enjoy seeing the city with someone who knows it well."

And practically an order to act as a full-time guide during that week. Naratha had really liked her. Darius would have to try not to hold it against Alethia.

"Of course," he said, mirroring his mother's gracious nod.

"Thank you. I'll leave you to it, then," she said briskly, then closed the door.

Darius turned to Alethia. For a moment they simply regarded each other in mutual appraisal.

Darius was the first to break the silence. "I imagine you're pleased with yourself," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "She's not easy to impress."

"I am, actually," she said with a small smile. He wasn't certain why this surprised him— the response was very in keeping with what he'd seen of her already— but it did. He'd been fully expecting a polite demurral. "For exactly that reason."

Darius folded his arms, though actually the directness of the response was gratifying. It seemed she liked theatrics more than irritating little games, which was a point in her favor.

"In the future, I'd ask that you refrain from terrorizing the populace the next time you want to curry her approval," he said. "They're much more biddable when not living in direct terror of being eaten by giant reptiles, you see."

"Noted, Your Highness," she said blandly. "Though I should clarify that she was much more interested in what else I'd done recently with that form."

"Devouring pirates?" he asked.

She blinked, looking genuinely surprised that he would suggest such a thing, then smiled.

"Pirates do not tend to bathe regularly," she said. "I try not to court indigestion."

Despite himself, he chuckled. As annoying as it was to have his mother insist on forming an opinion before him, he could appreciate a quick wit.

"Shall we?" he asked her, tilting his head down the hall. She fell in step beside him, her stride graceful. "I don't suppose the ships I sent were of any value to you, then?" he asked, giving her a sidelong look. "If you're able to maintain a form of that size?"

"Actually, they were wonderfully helpful in corralling the brigands into a tighter area," she said, matching his pace. "We'd considered using our own ships for such a maneuver, but we're much better equipped for trade than battle. Ours are not nearly so well-trained in tactical situations as yours." He wasn't sure if that was truth or flattery; their naval forces were well-trained, but Zharen wasn't deficient in that area. None of the demon-ruled cities could afford to be.

Alethia looked at him in consideration. "Actually, Magister Alodion asked that I broach the subject of sending some of our captains here for training, after witnessing the efficacy of yours."

Darius sent her a slightly skeptical look. They'd emerged from the hall onto a wide balcony that offered a view of the city and beyond it, the sea.

"Alodion asked you to discuss a training exchange with me?" he asked as they approached the alabaster banister. "Does he not understand why you were invited here?"

She smirked slightly. "He understands. He just believes that I'm unsuited to your tastes and that I won't last more than a day here. He wanted me to take what advantage I could out of our interactions, operating under that assumption." She looked outward over the city, a light sea breeze blowing her dark hair back. "Your mother's invitation just made some of Zharen's nobility a few thousand coins richer, and some a few thousand poorer. I'll have to let them know."

Interesting , he thought. Not the betting— that was typical enough— but the fact that she'd practically invited questions on what other people might consider her deficiencies to be. Well, he'd take the bait.

"Would their lack of confidence in your charms have anything to do with your predilection for tossing overseers into chasms?" he asked mildly.

Her smile vanished, which was also interesting; he'd thought she might deflect that jab with further levity.

"That man was a brute, Highness," she said, her voice level. "The fate he met was a much kinder one than what he'd dealt to many of the mine's workers."

Darius looked at her sideways. "Those mines are primarily worked by condemned criminals and prisoners of war, aren't they?"

"They are," she said, her voice still level. "Even so, I did not approve of his tendencies."

He considered this. So she wasn't as hard of a woman as he'd been led to believe. Nor did she have an undue taste for violence, her decision to handle the pirates herself notwithstanding. She might even have some surprisingly humanitarian leanings. All of which were to the good; some demons, particularly the ones who hadn't been raised in safety, could be extremely bloodthirsty. He preferred those be kept well away from decision-making positions. It had been a concern at the back of his mind, actually; Alethia, though born in Zharen, was still the child of two people who'd been brought there very young but would certainly remember being hunted.

They stood in silence for a few moments. Alethia leaned against the banister, then turned to face him, the iridescence of her damselfly wings catching in the light. The angle she stopped at showed off her lithe figure to good effect, and Darius pursed his lips, strangely annoyed by this.

"It's a bit depressing, isn't it?" she asked. He inclined his head in a question. "This," she said, with an encompassing gesture. "Betrothals, arrangements, negotiations for marriage."

"I don't believe I've ever had anyone describe the prospect of being near me as depressing, " he said dryly. Annoying, aggravating, and exasperating, yes, but those were all from Kai.

She chuckled. "Apologies, Your Highness. That wasn't my intended meaning. It's just…" She trailed off, then met his eyes. "Is it true what they say about Her Majesty?" she asked, looking at him intently. Her gaze was direct, but he detected a surprising hint of hesitancy there, sharply at odds with what he'd seen of her so far. "About why she refused to remarry after your father's death? Or is that just all…" She gave a small, careless wave of one hand, "…a story to endear the royal family to the public?"

Darius looked at her in consideration, weighing his response. He wasn't certain anyone had ever asked him directly about this before. The only people in his life who knew him well enough to broach the subject already knew the truth of the matter. Still, he knew the stories that were told on the streets well enough. Traveling musicians had composed elaborate lays on the subject— ballads that told of a tumultuous, passionate romance between Naratha and her consort. Stories about the depth of their love, about how they'd fought side by side in the War, how Naratha's screams of rage and loss had shattered the very stones of the mountainside when the king had been killed.

The story was perfectly crafted to arouse public sympathies and fondness for their rulers. Everyone loved a heartbreaking tragedy. Everyone loved to see a hint of humanity, for lack of a better word, in the rulers that otherwise seemed so impossibly far above them. If Darius hadn't been close to it, he would have probably assumed what Alethia had just implied as well— that it was a fabrication meant to encourage the common folk to identify, in some small way, with their rulers. But Darius was close to it, and he had seen what had really happened. He'd been with his mother, wept with her as she held him tight, shedding tears that they both knew they couldn't ever allow anyone else to see.

"It's true," he said quietly. Surprise flitted over Alethia's face. "The stories about why she wouldn't remarry," he continued. "She couldn't bear it after the loss of my father."

It was the reason Kai had been fostered in their family, actually; there had been massive pressure for Naratha to take a new consort. Most of it had been under the guise of concern for the fact that she had only one heir, a situation that could lead to danger and instability if anything should happen to Darius, or if Darius should fail the Trials that would mark him as a worthy successor. In response, Naratha had simply launched a search for a promising child from a family with some influence, taken him as her own fosterling, and declared him next in line after Darius. Kai still had regular contact with his birth family, but for all intents and purposes, he was considered one of the royals. After that had all been settled, Naratha hadn't tolerated the barest whispered hint that she should remarry. Darius knew of at least one noble that still bore scars from the consequences of making that mistake.

Alethia was quiet for a moment. "She truly did love him like that, then?" she asked, her voice strangely subdued. Darius nodded once. Alethia let out a quiet exhalation. "I've showed signs of being a strong elementalist from early childhood," she said. "You'd think that being powerful would directly lead to having more freedom, but that's not always the case, is it?" Darius looked at her sideways, not sure how the two subjects were related, but he remained quiet, waiting.

She gazed out from the balcony. "Hearing those songs, those stories, as a girl… perhaps I was just impressionable at that age, but they woke up such a longing in me," she continued. "Everyone knows what it means to be a queen. Duty to the city and its people before duty to self. But hearing those songs… I used to think that if the most powerful woman in our land, the one most bound up in tradition and duty, could find that sort of love… if Naratha could do that, perhaps it wasn't so foolish to hope that I might find it, too." She gave a tiny, bitter smile. "And then I got old enough to understand how the world works. How precarious our position, our existence, is. How rare it is for our kind to have the luxury of a true choice."

She finally turned to meet his eyes directly. "That's what I meant, when I called betrothals and the like depressing. And hearing you say that the stories about your mother are true…" Her smile lost some of its bitter edge, and for a moment, she only looked sad. "Hearing that only serves to call it into tighter focus."

Darius didn't answer immediately, considering her words carefully. He wouldn't have ever admitted it aloud, but he knew precisely what feelings she was describing. But she'd at least allowed herself the indulgence of imagining she might be able to marry for love in her younger years. No matter what he'd wanted, no matter how much the thought of binding himself to a woman he didn't love filled him with dread, he'd never been able to convince himself for a moment that he could strive for something different.

"Do you have someone?" he asked. She tilted her head in a question. "Is there someone you have feelings for, someone you'd choose if affection were the only consideration?" Someone that he'd unknowingly forced her to leave by inviting her here?

"No, Highness," she said, giving a small shake of the head. Well, that was a relief; at least he didn't need to wrestle with the guilt of his family's actions destroying more than one woman's life this week. "There was a time I thought perhaps I'd found someone, but it wasn't to be."

"I'm sorry," he said.

She made a small gesture with one hand, slightly dismissive of the sentiment. "It was some time ago now. And fate leads us all where it will."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem the sort to passively accept fate," he said. "At least, I wouldn't expect that sort to decline a royal invitation in favor of fighting pirates."

She laughed. It was, to his surprise, an honest and genuine sound. "The pirates were good enough to time their attacks at a moment when I needed to work out some frustrations I'd been experiencing." Her smile sharpened. "Fortunate for me… less so for them. But in any case, if your invitation had come at a different time, I don't believe I would have declined. I'm not that indulgent toward my own romantic fantasies." She looked at him in consideration. "And you?" she asked. "If you had the freedom to choose. Is there someone?"

Though perhaps he should have expected the question, Darius found himself taken badly off balance by it. Why, why had his mind leapt to an image of a young woman standing alone in darkness there?

"I…" He cleared his throat, unable to continue.

Alethia gave a small smile, one twisted with a wry sort of sadness.

"I see," she said. She stood up from where she'd been leaning against the balcony. "Thank you for the honor of your invitation," she said, dropping into a brief, precise bow. "And thank you again for lending us your ships. It was a kind gesture. But I should return to Zharen." With that, she turned, starting to walk away.

"Alethia," he said. She stopped, turning only halfway to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "It isn't like that," he said quietly. Whatever foolish burgeoning feelings he might be having, Tanitha would be out of his life one way or another very soon.

He cleared his throat. "There's something the songs about my mother get wrong." She frowned, turning fully to face him at that. "They weren't in love from the start," he said. "The day they wed, they'd never met. And apparently there were some misunderstandings that meant they rather detested each other at first," he said with a quiet chuckle. Her eyebrows flicked up in apparent surprise before she schooled her expression. "All of which is to say that it took time," he continued. Carefully, and still unsure if this was wise, he added, "Would you consent to stay in the City for a few weeks?"

Alethia tilted her head in consideration, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought she was going to simply reiterate her refusal. But then she gave another bow, this one slightly deeper than the one before, and less perfunctory.

"I would be honored," she said.