Page 80 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Lady Romula grinned. “This certainly must be a pleasant contrast to the Shadow Stronghold, hmmmm?”
I nearly choked on my wine. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass. “Contrast is not the word I’d use,” I said carefully. I took another sip. A long one.
She winked, waving her goblet about. “It’s a shame. My daughter’s ring, lost to the Shadows who would never know what to do with it. Do you think we’ll ever see it again?”
My entire body tensed. I could hear the accusation in her voice. As if I’d told Tristan to throw his mother’s ring—my engagement ring—away. She was still pissed and saw the loss as my fault.
“I can only hope. Perhaps Lady Sila may be interested in a trade at the next Council Meeting.”
Lady Romula pursed her lips as if this idea were ridiculous. “How are you faring, my dear? I must say, your father has made some rather unusual choices lately.”
“One might say we’ve had unusual circumstances lately.”
“Of course. We’ve had unusual circumstances for nearly twenty years. You’ve known nothing else. Life must seem normal to you, but it was and remains to this day quite a scandal that a man rules in Bamaria after a thousand years of rule by the women of Ka Batavia.”
“Does it bother you that a man serves as Arkasva?” I asked carefully.
Lady Romula rolled her eyes. “I am Master of Finance on Bamaria’s Council. What do I care what lies between the legs of our ruler so long as I maintain my position and wealth? But many would disagree. And in light of your condition,” she said with a sniff, “a belief is spreading among the common folk that your father’s rule is tainted. That you’re suffering as a result.”
I straightened, thinking of the mob that had formed on Auriel’s Feast Day and all the shouts claiming he was false. I’d just heard similar comments today amongst my classmates. How widespread was the belief that my father shouldn’t be ruling? It must have fully permeated Lumerian society if Lady Romula was mentioning it.
“Good evening, Grandmother.” Tristan entered the sitting room wearing a bright blue tunic. A silver scarf draped over his shoulder. He gave me an encouraging look, but I could only manage a tight-lipped smile. Nothing in our conversation hinted at her softening or giving the blessing we both desperately needed. Marrying Tristan was one thing, but doing so without Lady Romula’s support and protection was pointless.
She snapped her fingers, and another goblet glided over the threshold, attempting to make its way into Tristan’s hand, but he waved it off, and the goblet floated away. He was already rushing to my side and taking my hand.
“Grandmother,” he said, “I’m so glad you called for this dinner. We have something important we want to discuss with you. You know how much I love Lady Lyriana.”
“Of course, darling, but first we must greet our guests.”
For right at that moment, Arianna and Naria were announced.
Aunt Arianna, looking beautiful in a one-shouldered gown of blue, entered first. She wore her golden seraphim wings on her shoulder and showed off a new golden cuff on her bicep. It was similar in style to mine with golden seraphim feathers covering nearly half her arm above the elbow. She happily gave me a hug, asking how my first day of soturion training went, while Naria skulked behind, looking furious at my presence. She had also worn blue, but rather than wrapping the fabric over one shoulder, she’d crossed the material over her breasts, baring her stomach and leaving her cleavage on full display.
“Don’t you have combat clinic tonight?” she asked.
“Don’t you?”
“I was excused by my apprentice, but something tells me you weren’t. You’re not supposed to receive special favors.”
My stomach twisted. Would she report this to Rhyan? Or worse…to Viktor Kormac?
Naria’s eyes wandered to Tristan, as they had so many times over the years. He looked away embarrassed, eyes downcast…almost in shame. He was flushed, clearly thrown off by Naria for some reason. I stepped in front of him, glaring at Naria.
“Something tells me you should keep your nose out of this,” I said, taking Tristan’s arm.
More drinks floated in, and Lord Trajan, Tristan’s grandfather, arrived. I accepted a goblet before dragging Tristan into the corner.
“What was that look?” I asked.
“What look?” He still wouldn’t meet my eyes. What in Lumeria?
“Since Naria arrived, you won’t look at me.”
“I’m looking at you.” His brown eyes lifted.
I narrowed my gaze. “You looked embarrassed back there. Why? Since when does a look from Naria affect you?”
Tristan chewed his bottom lip. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
