The shoulders under each of the councilors’ robes stiffened. As usual, Satordi spoke for the group. In Amarande’s time in this room with her father, it had become clear to her that proximity to power had made this man believe he had more of it than he truly did.
“Princess Amarande,” Satordi began, that tone of his sharpening. “You are well aware that the exalted Medikua Aritza has examined the king’s body and has found no evidence of foul play, as seconded by General Koldo, who was by his side the entire day and did not witness anything untoward.”
Amarande didn’t bother to spare a glance toward the general. Yes, she knew that a natural death was Koldo’s official estimation, and that she had been the one who watched the king’s life leave him in real time. The councilor was using Koldo here, dangling their love for each other in front of the princess and hoping she’d bite.
He should’ve known better.
“Medikua Aritza is a gifted healer and indeed exalted, but she is not aware of all the possible methods of attack.” This was true—the highest medicine woman in the land made it a point not to know about political intrigue purely for the sake of wanting to be completely unbiased when someone threw gold pieces at her for a potion. “General Koldo is a gifted warrior, but that doesn’t mean she’s always correct. Even to her experienced eye, the stoppage of a heart from poison would appear the same as the stoppage of a heart from natural causes.”
Koldo nodded, her long brunette braid slithering across her garnet cloak broach. “Council, that is an accurate assessment. I have never witnessed a man die from natural causes. I agree with the princess on this matter.”
The general took a slight step forward so that she and the princess stood precisely shoulder to shoulder before the table, a front.
“I realize that both of you were closer to the king than I.” Councilor Garbine stood, the fire within her a low, ever-present boil. “And therefore I realize it may be as difficult as his death itself to admit to yourselves that sometimes devastating moments happen in unspectacular ways.”
Amarande and Koldo said nothing.
The gray-haired woman smiled at the princess, all the heat in her eyes, her hands brought in front almost as if in prayer to the stars. “Your Highness, did you want your father to come home with a sword run through his back? Relieved of his head? Or not at all, turned to ashes in a Torrent fire pit?”
Amarande swallowed. “No, but I find any of those scenarios easier to believe than that the strongest man in the Sand and Sky keeled over in his saddle from nothing at all.”
Garbine’s lips parted in reply, but Satordi held out a hand to stop her, standing himself with an impatient sigh. “We cannot afford to upset every kingdom on the continent chasing down something we cannot prove. It will disturb our allies.”
Garbine and Joseba nodded, the long game playing out in their minds. The contract on the table seemed to catch all the windows’ light.
“Are we to simply accept what happened?” Amarande’s voice was still calm and polite, but something was lit from the ashes of who she’d been since the news, and it burned beneath.
“Yes, Princess,” Satordi answered, clipped. “At this moment in time we will accept it because we have much more pressing matters to discuss.”
Amarande hadn’t thought her request a difficult one—in fact, she’d believed it would be the natural course—and therefore hadn’t planned for a fight. But her body was suddenly ready for one. The princess drove her heels into the marble tile, strong legs grounding her further, all muscles rigid from her calves—the right one tense against the knife in her boot—to the curve of her jaw. “I see nothing more important.”
Satordi rapped a knuckle on the table and blinked at Amarande.
“Because you refuse to see. There is much more to ruling than what is right in front of your face.” He threw his arms wide, dark brows pulled tight. “Your father’s death is in the past. The future of Ardenia needs your focus now. I implore you. You want to be a ruler? Act like it. Hear me.”
Amarande’s jaw clenched. She said nothing. Koldo stood silent at her side.
After a pause long enough to ensure he’d regained control, Satordi continued, immediately addressing the matters he thought more pressing. “We have received a generous proposal for your hand from Pyrenee. It is simply a preliminary offer and more will likely come. The real negotiations will begin once each royal party arrives for King Sendoa’s funeral.”
The princess took a thin breath through her nose before delivering her stony reply. “I’m not marrying.”
“Why resist marriage, Princess?” Garbine asked. “That is your responsibility as princess of the Sand and Sky—it must happen eventually. Why not now, when your kingdom needs you?”
Easy for Garbine to say, when she’d chosen those robes over the ability to wed. Purposely giving up one’s freedom to love was completely different from being born with it already stolen away. Even worse—what if acceptance of an offer meant not only no chance at love but also aligning herself with the nobility who had killed her father?
“Yes, my kingdom needs me. Not some usurper king, who may have had a hand in the death of his predecessor, all the while forcing his queen into a relationship that benefits only him. How is that good for Ardenia? How can a man chosen via contract and council have the best interests of Ardenia closer to his heart than myself? Surely my father worked with you to account for that—he wouldn’t have allowed it.”
Now Joseba stood—thick eyebrows knitted together, fingers twisted in a calm knot. He was barely older than the princess herself, and he’d only been a councilor since the death of his great-uncle two years hence. He was baby-faced and his innate kindness still intact, yet to be completely dismantled by Satordi. “Your father did not … object to the process, Princess.”
“Because he didn’t expect to be murdered,” Amarande spat. Satordi gave an exasperated sigh, but the princess ignored it and continued. “I want time. I want what is best for my people. Change the law and allow me to rule outright, not rush into some marriage that will hand my father’s beloved land and his daughter over to someone who only wants it for personal gain. Diamonds and soldiers and location—we all know what is so attractive to outsiders about our home.”
Joseba pursed his lips before continuing, measured. “Time is a pleasant notion, Your Highness, but it doesn’t shield Ardenia from its current vulnerability. Without a contract in place soon, Ardenia will be seen as headless—”
“‘Seen’ being the operative word, Councilor. Others’ lack of vision is not our problem,” the princess said, and then turned to the rest of the group. “We all know the Itspi’s foundation consists of laws, decrees, and directives mixed with mortar and stone. Surely there’s precedent for who rules after a king’s death and before the marriage of his daughter? If not his own blood, then whom? If there’s not precedence for that in enough statutes to swallow a millennium, surely my father had a plan. He always had a plan.”
She looked each one of them in the eye. “What is his plan?”
After a long pause, Joseba’s tongue stumbled over the words, though he knew the answer. “It’s designated in the king’s will that General Koldo be the regent.”