A slap in the face

Every single day was a slap in the face for Neve. Ever since her husband had brought his whore to the Royal Keep, she had been subjected to constant humiliation. Courtiers and low-ranking nobles laughed at her when she wasn't looking, and high-ranking ones didn't even bother waiting for her to be gone from the room to do so. Worse, Rolan had gotten the girl pregnant. Pregnant! Neve had hoped it would make him see reason but instead, he had thrown a feast for his bastard and given him the Virinen name. He had named the babe himself and even called him a prince in front of the lords. It was humiliating. She was the queen. She had gone through rigorous training and maddening lessons to learn to rule her country. She had given the king healthy twin boys. She had done everything perfectly. And yet, he had brought his mistress to the palace and sired two bastard sons whom he called legitimate.

Neve had never thought she had it in her heart to hate a child before that day. She had never thought she would pray for an infant's death, but she had. She had dreamt about poisoning Vale and Helio more than she could count; she had wanted to strangle them in their cribs. But with time, Vale had become nothing but a disappointment, a whoring, idiotic fool who enjoyed gambling and would most likely drink himself into an early grave. Her hatred had turned into amusement, especially when she saw how hard Elenda Kale tried to control him. As for Helio… She did her best to ignore him. He was rightfully ashamed of his low birth, and he did his best to be worthy of his name. He had a sharp mind for his age, but he was Rolan's youngest son. He would never have the throne no matter how hard he tried.

Neve had never been so stupid to think the king would be faithful to her, of course. It was the way men were. But bringing his mistress to the Royal Keep, parading her in front of the lords, making her sit at their table as if she were a second wife and not some mistress… It was a slap in the face. It was spitting on her work, on her devotion to him, on their sons. And when Elenda's belly had enlarged twice when the king didn't come to her bed anymore… Neve had contemplated death. She had thought about flinging herself from the castle's windows. She was no Virinen, the fall would shatter her bones and kill her easily. But she couldn't do it. She had Aaron and Amon to look after. She had to be there for them. And she would never give Elenda the satisfaction of giving up.

The queen smoothed her skirt, watching her reflection in the mirror. With the tourney starting today, she needed to look perfect. Nonetheless, she couldn't dress up too much or she would look like a peacock and the kitchen maids would talk about it for weeks. As such, she had chosen a gold and red dress with a simple crinoline that wouldn't hinder her movements too much and didn't weigh a lot. Because she didn't possess Elenda's infuriating everlasting beauty, she had chosen a simple round collar in contrast to the marchioness' low squared ones that showed off her breasts. What a harlot! It wasn't surprising that she had successfully charmed half of the realm.

Neve bit the inside of her cheek. She shouldn't waste useless thoughts on what had already happened, but she couldn't help herself. How was she supposed to forget about the way her husband disrespected her and their children every single day? How he was spitting on millennia of traditions just to give a chance to his bastards to sit the throne? She wished she could slap him in public, but she would only hurt herself and ruin her reputation – and, by extension, her sons' one. What idiot slapped a king? A Virinen one, at that? She would only break the bones in her hand against his skin.

Neve sighed and turned away from the mirror. There was no need obsessing over her reflection. Even if she was told that Elenda had somehow put a dress similar to hers, she wouldn't have time to change. She left her room alone, knowing her husband wouldn't bother to escort her to their stand to watch the tourney. As always, she would arrive alone for her sons had their own betrothed to bring. If she was lucky, Rolan had decided to be fair today and hadn't escorted Elenda. He had told her he wouldn't show favour to either of them until he had chosen his heir, but Neve didn't believe him. She had stopped trusting him the day he had told her he was considering Helio and Vale like potential heirs to the throne.

As she walked down the corridors, her sworn shield Ser Baltan with her, Neve stared at the emptiness before her, ignoring all the maids and minor lords she passed by. She wouldn't answer to anyone who wasn't one of the dukes. She didn't have the patience to deal with the lowly barons and earls of the realm who laughed at her when she looked away. Even if she knew she ought to befriend each and every one of them to put Amon on the throne, she hated that she had to do so in the first place. The law had always been clear. The first-born child was to inherit his forefathers' seat and riches. Bastards couldn't inherit unless they were the last living members of the family, especially in the case of the Ancient Families whose bloodlines were the most important feature. Every law was in Amon's favour, as he was the oldest of her twins. If Rolan had hesitated between Amon and Aaron, Neve would have understood. After all, twins were born a few minutes apart. His bastards shouldn't even be considered as potential heirs. Rolan's brothers and nephews had more claim to the throne than Vale and Helio would ever have!

Neve remained stoic as the herald announced her arrival at the royal stand, not sparing a look to the guests. She barely nodded her head at her husband as a greeting, although she kissed her sons' cheeks and hugged their betrothed like a mother should. Elyn Lorn, Amon's betrothed, smiled to her and called her mother, playing her part perfectly. She was good-natured and sharp, with a beauty that would soon eclipse Elenda's one. She would make a good wife and queen to Amon. Amelia Lofrey wasn't as remarkable as Elyn, for she was just a baron's daughter, but her father was a seasoned warrior whose talent would be useful.

''Dearest wife, you look beautiful'', Rolan said as she sat next to him.

''Dear husband, please spare me the false words. No one can hear us, you have no need to lie to me'', she replied coldly.

''You're in one of your moods, I see. Has someone spit in your tea?''

'No, you're stealing my sons' birth right and giving them to your bastard sons. That's what's wrong with me.'

''Let us go with this. Now, are we going to start this tourney? Our guests are waiting.''

Rolan had the audacity to laugh at her, but Neve didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. She simply looked at the joust as it began, uninterested. She used to be fond of these events as a young maiden, she used to dream of dashing knights asking for her favours and win in her name. Now, however, she found them boring. Ser Baltan or one of her brothers would ride with her favour, but none had won in years. She wished her sons would win for her, but members of the Ancient Families weren't allowed to participate in tourneys due to their powers. It would be unfair for the other participants.

Clapping mechanically when the first riders arrived, she let her eyes wander in search of the Four Dukes, although only three had arrived. Duke Argan Harney was stuck in the North dealing with bandits in person, as a mage was among them, and wouldn't come to the capital until he was done dealing with them. She didn't mind it; the Blackstones were loyal bannermen of House Harney, and the duke would support her. She knew Duke Argan would cast his ballot in her favour. The real problems were the three dukes who had come. House Sahad could be persuaded in exchange of some favours, but House Lars would follow the South. They needed the Southerners' extensive resources and couldn't afford to go against them. Especially these last few years, during which they had suffered from a famine and sick crops.

The representatives of both houses had dressed in neutral colours, but Neve felt like crying when her eyes found the Yales. Duke Talfryn was wearing a blue and silver doublet. The queen's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, but she swallowed them. She wouldn't give Elenda the satisfaction. She clenched her fists on her skirt, her nails digging in her palms despite the fabric. It wasn't fair. It had barely been a week, but Elenda had already successfully snatched one of the dukes away from Neve. How had she done so? Had she slept with the Southerner to gain his support? Would Duke Yale be convinced by Elenda's body?

Ah! Of course, he would be. What men wasn't? A dry laugh escaped her lips. She shouldn't be surprised that Elenda had already dug her claws in some new men. Neve wondered how Rolan would take the news. With some luck, he would be so offended he'd force to leave in disgrace and banish her sons as well, but Neve was done relying on luck and oaths. If Elenda was willing to play dirty and spread her legs to get what she wanted, Neve would only need to play dirtier. As Queen of Aruhel, she didn't have the luxury of sleeping around to gain support, nor would she lower herself to such disgusting acts. She was a woman of honour, not a cheap harlot.

The tourney came to a bitter end when a knight from the Yale household won, unhorsing his last opponent, who came from the West. He removed his helmet as he pushed his horse towards the royal stand, and Neve clapped although she didn't give him a single smile. His lord had sided with her enemies, she had no reason to congratulate him. She would leave that duty to Rolan and Elenda. The marchioness did just that, getting up and approaching the fence with a bright smile on her face, her sons with her.

''Congratulations, Ser Davon! You've made your homeland proud.''

''Thank you, my lady! If His Grace allows it, I would like to give you the Victor's Rose!'' he exclaimed.

Neve wanted nothing more than to get up and leave right away. Seeing a handsome knight dedicate a victory to Elenda was almost like being slapped in the face. She was the queen. Amongst the King's lovers, she was the one to whom men should give their Victor's Rose. Doing this was insulting her status as queen in public. And yet, she had no doubt that Talfryn Yale had purposefully ordered his knight to do so. Now, everyone would know the South supported Elenda and her sons. As such, House Lars would soon follow. Neve had to meet up with Duke Sahad as soon as possible or she would lose this war before it had even started. She felt so stupid for threatening Elenda when the dukes had arrived. She was clearly losing right now.

She also needed something to move the Lars against the Yales. Perhaps by ensuring more support from the crown. They could afford it as the last decades had been more than generous to Aruhel's economy. Moreover, as retribution for supporting the wrong prince, it would be possible to make the South hand over a large portion of their harvest. If most of it went to the West, it would ensure their loyalty. But how could she ensure it? From their point of view, it would be safer to side with the Yales from the get-go and never cross them. Maybe marriage alliances would work. Her nephew Luke was ten and heir to House Blackstone, he could marry a girl from the Western nobility or, if Neve's brother Mael ever had a daughter, she could marry into House Sahad.

It would have to work, for she didn't have much more to offer. Sits at Amon's council could be offered, but she didn't know whether or not Duke Sahad and Lars would be interested. The Lars were busy taking care of their poor land, and the Sahads didn't like obeying anyone's orders. Although they had never rebelled against the crown, it was because being dukes gave them enough independence and power. Moonshine was far away from the Royal Keep, and the king rarely intervened in their matters. However, if they were to come to the capital and serve in the council, they would lose their impression of independence. Neve clicked her tongue as she made her way towards the feast area. How annoying!

Rolan had truly outdone himself for the midday feast. It had been organised outside, which was more trouble than it was worth, in Neve's opinion. The trees had been neatly cut and hundreds of flowers decorated the tables. Neve looked the guests, observing their behaviour. Just as she feared, Duke Lars was already talking to Talfryn Yale. She would have to move fast. She gestured for her lady-in-waiting, Emily, who came running to her side. Neve lowered her voice so the girl would be the only one hearing her.

''Prepare some gifts for Duke Sahad and Lars. I want to meet them privately at their earliest disposal.''

''Right away, Your Grace.''

The feast began quite peacefully, although Neve loathed that she had to witness Helio dance with the Yale heiress, Maela. The girl was pretty in addition to being the most desirable maiden in the realm, she would soon attract the attention of many potential suitors. She shouldn't be surprised if every single victory in the next tourneys were dedicated to her. She would be a nightmare to handle, especially if she grew under Elenda's tutelage. Neve could only hope that the Yales already had a fiancé in mind for her, so that the realm wouldn't fight for the girl's hand. A fiancée like Maela Yale would be enough to convert any man to Elenda's cause.

There was a sudden screaming match, and Neve smiled as she saw the cause. Vale had made a fool of himself again, showing up with his new paramour. If it had been some random maiden, no one would care. But it was a knight. A man. Everyone knew Vale had no preference between men and women and would bed anyone willing, but Neve had never thought he would publicly parade a male paramour. It was disgraceful in every sense of the term. Just because something wasn't illegal didn't mean it wasn't repulsive and Vale having a man by his side at a royal feast was political suicide.

Neve hummed happily as she watched Elenda chew out her son, calling him all sorts of names. How entertaining! If most of the lords' expression was anything to go by, Vale had completely killed his mother's cause. She would only need to press the right buttons when she would meet the lords, it would seem.

''Marchioness, you shouldn't be too hard on Prince Vale'', a voice suddenly said.

Neve froze and looked up. It was Maela Yale, standing next to the prince. The girl's dress, silver and green for Houses Kale and Yale, was covered in glittering gems and she seemed to shine under the sun. Despite being so short next to Vale and even Elenda, she seemed to tower over them. And yet, there was no aggressivity in her, no judgment. Just sincerity. What was she doing? What was going on?

''I beg your pardon?''

''The Mother of All wouldn't want you to chastise your son like this, and the God of Love has never forbidden Prince Vale's choice of lovers. Shouldn't we be happy that he has found someone he cares about enough to introduce them to you?'' she said.

Neve felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on her. Everyone seemed just as floored as her and yet, no one seemed able to speak up. The girl's tone held such power that it was like listening to a high priest or a king. Her smile, bright as the sun, was full of kindness and sincerity. It didn't even feel like a reprimand but rather holy words all should listen. What kind of power did that girl have? Was she some hidden mage? She didn't seem so, as the dukes would have reacted to her unusual magic if it had been the case. Was it just charisma? It didn't seem enough either.

''I… I suppose so'', Elenda stuttered. ''I apologise, Vale, I overreacted. I only wished you had told me in advance.''

''Yes, I… I should have done so, Mother. Why don't we sit?''

The queen watched her enemy sit with the Yale household, perplexed. There was something weird with Maela Yale, and she needed to discover what it was. Whether it was charisma, magic, or something else, Neve would uncover what the girl hid. Or she would lose any advantage she had.

Damn Southerners.

Damn Southerners.