chapter 35
Chapter 35
The study was quiet save for the scratching of quill against parchment. A single candle burned beside them, its flickering glow casting long shadows across the table where King Mathias sat, his expression taut with contemplation. Across from him, General Grendy penned the words Mathias had carefully dictated, his hand steady and deliberate as he shaped each letter with precision.
Mathias leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he watched the ink dry on the parchment. "Tommen is not a man who takes refusal lightly," he murmured, voice low with thought. "But this should placate him-at least for now."
Grendy did not look up from his task. "Aethelgar's king is a man who sees himself above rejection. A direct refusal would only rouse his ire. This, however, forces his hand. He cannot accuse you of defiance if the Citadel itself holds Alissa's fate beyond your reach."
Mathias exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I do not like lying to a king," he admitted, though there was no guilt in his voice-only weariness. "But I will not send my daughter into the lion's den simply because he deems it his right."
Grendy lifted the parchment, skimming over the words before setting it aside to dry. "The truth is a weapon, but so is omission," he said plainly. "You have not denied him. You have only reminded him that even a king must yield to forces beyond his power."
A beat of silence stretched between them before Mathias gave a short, tired laugh. "You make it sound so simple."
Grendy finally met his gaze. "It is simple," he said. "If he presses the matter, we shall find another way. But for now, this is the best course."
Mathias nodded. There was no more to be said.
He took the letter once it had dried, pressing his royal seal into the wax. The insignia of House Valois gleamed in the candlelight-a lone wolf against a field of stars. With a final look at the parchment, he set it aside for his most trusted messenger to deliver at dawn.
For now, the game was still in motion. And Mathias intended to stay one step ahead.
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The chamber was heavy with the scent of perfume and wine, the air thick with the sultry hum of laughter. King Tommen sat at the edge of his grand bed, his tunic undone, exposing the hardened muscle of his chest. Two women lay against him, half-naked, their delicate hands roaming his skin as they pressed kisses along his neck and shoulders.
Before him, another pair of women danced, their bodies bare, their movements slow and provocative, swaying to the music played by a lone musician in the corner. The candlelight flickered across their glistening skin, their beauty a mere distraction from the endless weight of rulership that Tommen carried.
He exhaled deeply, letting his head fall back against the pillows, the warmth of soft hands and lips a temporary relief from the burdens in his mind.
Then, a voice rang out from beyond the doors.
"I am the queen of Aethelgar! You will let me through this instant!"
The music stopped for a fleeting moment before resuming, though the women continued their seduction without pause.
Outside, Esmeralda stood fuming before the chamber doors, her emerald gown flowing behind her in sharp contrast to the frustration twisting her face. The guards stood firm, their spears crossed in front of the entrance, unmoving.
"My lady," one of them said stiffly. "His Majesty has given strict orders not to be disturbed."
Esmeralda's hands clenched into fists. "I am his wife. Do you think I need permission to see my own husband?"
The guards exchanged a glance but did not yield. "The king is occupied."
She could hear it now-the faint laughter, the soft gasps of pleasure from within, the sounds of indulgence and debauchery that had become all too familiar to her over the years. Her lips curled in disgust.
"Fine," she spat, turning sharply on her heels.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she stormed down the corridor, fury simmering beneath her skin. She would not forget this slight. And she would make sure Tommen regretted it.
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The afternoon sun cast golden rays through the chamber windows, bathing the room in soft warmth. Alistair sat in his chair near the hearth, watching his sister with a faint, bittersweet smile. Alissa sat on the cushioned seat across from him, curled up comfortably, her dark silk hair flowing over her shoulders.
"I suppose I won't have anyone to sneak sweets from my plate anymore," Alistair mused, his tone light but tinged with sadness.
Alissa chuckled. "You always knew it was me."
"Of course, but I let you get away with it." His smile faded slightly. "I will miss you, Alissa."
She reached for his hand across the space between them, squeezing it gently. "I'll miss you too, Alistair."
The moment stretched between them, a quiet understanding passing between brother and sister-one that words could not quite capture.
A knock sounded at the door before it opened, and Jasmine stepped in. She was dressed in a deep blue gown, her golden hair swept back elegantly. She held a small velvet pouch in her hand, her gaze warm as she approached Alissa.
"I have something for you," Jasmine said, holding out the pouch.
Alissa hesitated before taking it, opening it to reveal a shimmering gemstone-deep red, like the heart of a flame.
"It was given to me by my grandmother," Jasmine explained. "She always said it was a lucky charm, and it has protected me in more ways than I can count. I want you to have it."
Alissa blinked, glancing between Jasmine and the gemstone. "I-this is too precious. I cannot accept-"
"You can," Jasmine interrupted gently. "And you will. I want you to keep it with you, no matter what."
Alissa looked to Alistair, who gave her a small nod.
With a grateful smile, Alissa closed the pouch and held it to her chest. "Thank you."
Jasmine's lips curved into a soft smile. Then, she took a breath and said, "Also, I would rather you call me sister than Lady Jasmine."
Surprise flickered in Alissa's eyes, but it quickly melted into warmth. "Alright... sister."
Jasmine's smile widened, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair watching them, his gaze lingering on Jasmine with something unreadable in his expression.
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The heavy doors to Esmeralda's chamber slammed shut behind her, rattling in their frame as she stormed inside. Her breath came in sharp, furious gasps, her emerald gown swaying violently with each step.
She had been humiliated. Stopped-refused-at the king's door like a common servant.
Her hands curled into trembling fists, nails digging into her palms. "Those worthless dogs dare keep me out?" she spat, her voice seething with venom.
She seized the nearest object-a golden goblet resting on the table-and hurled it across the room. It struck the wall with a loud clang, the liquid within splattering onto the expensive tapestries.
She paced like a caged lioness, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He has no shame. That wretched husband of hers, drowning in pleasure with his whores while she, the queen, was forced to wait. While she was denied.
Her fury deepened. It was bad enough that Tommen still indulged in his carnal appetites so shamelessly, but to have her barred from his presence? To be ignored, as if she were insignificant? Unacceptable.
With a sharp turn, she seized the edge of her vanity and shoved it, sending perfume bottles crashing to the floor. The sharp scent of crushed flowers filled the air, but it did nothing to soothe her rage.
She clenched her teeth. This is my kingdom as much as his. My son's birthright. And yet, Tommen still clung to his firstborn, to that cold-hearted brat Hosea.
Her jaw tightened as she remembered the letter-the king's demand to summon Alissa before she departed for the Citadel. Alissa.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course. The little princess must be paraded before her future father-in-law. Just another reminder that my son is not first in line.
Her blood boiled.
She would not be silenced. She would not be dismissed. Tommen could indulge himself for now, but he would not ignore her forever.
And as for Alissa... she would make sure the girl never forgot who truly held power in Aethelgar.