14. Pwning Dalia

[moonshadows]

Naturally, there is a ball. The nobility are present almost to a man, many of them not having secured an invitation to the previous night's event, as well as a good portion of the merely rich, or powerful, and many who simply hold rank within the government. The cold civility with which I greet each man or woman who jostles for the attention of king and queen is a counterpoint to my husband's warmth, my increasingly tight grip on his arm a trial he endures admirably as he declines dance requests for me. When I am introduced to the city's official architect, Baros Alexston, that grip loosens slightly in recognition of the stout man who appears dreadfully underdressed in simple tan. Beyond that, however, I recognize his name from the research I did with Anduin into the circumstances of my predecessor's untimely death. If Varian is surprised by the breach in my displeasure, he does not say anything beyond excusing himself for a few moments while I engage in conversation with someone I don't seem to loathe on sight. Alexston, for his part, is pleasantly surprised that I remember him - even if his brows draw together slightly when I mention where I recognized his name from. This is not an appropriate venue for discussing more of his past than just a brief mention, but he places himself at my service in the future and we chat for a handful of minutes about small, innocuous things while waiting for Varian to return. Before that happens, however, his expression shifts to apprehension and I feel my metaphoric hackles rise.

"Don't look now," he mutters through a fake smile, "but Lady Dalia seems intent on making your acquaintance while the king is being distracted. I'll fetch him for you, your Majesty."

Before I can assemble a response to that, he vanishes into the crowd just as the small space around me is suddenly invaded by an elaborate gown designed to attract attention to its wearer rather than flatter her with any semblance of grace or elegance, and I recognize it for the weapon that it is.

"Your Majesty! Such an honor to meet you." Lady Dalia simpers at me, but something cold and unpleasant lurks in her eyes. "Have you met my daughter Serephina? She's just come of age. I'd hoped to present her to his Majesty...before we heard the happy news, of course."

Serephina simpers at me from her confection of pink taffeta and elaborately-curled hair - artificially lightened - but she's nowhere as skilled as her mother. I can clearly see the sneer in her eyes. A quick glance around shows the nearest guests listening intently; Lady Dalia must be well-known for her prowess in political games. Too bad I don't play them.

I paste an equally false smile on my face. "The pleasure is all mine. Please, won't you join me on the balcony? It's so crowded here, and I'd rather have some peace and quiet to talk to such an esteemed lady as yourself and your exquisite daughter."

Dalia's eyes harden slightly; she knows she's being deprived of her audience, but she also knows that she can't refuse. "Of course, your Majesty."

Two of the Royal Guard move to flank the balcony doors, and Golthak joins them. Everyone will know at a glance where I am, but no one will dare interrupt. Once the noise of the ball has been closed in by glass doors, I turn to Dalia with a charming smile.

"There, that's better. Now we can each speak our minds in privacy. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

The simper turns into a sneer. "Didn't want an audience, your Majesty? Afraid others will hear what I have to say?"

"Of course not," I retort coolly. "I was afraid you would be too restrained in front of other ears. I pray you, unsheathe your claws, my lady. And you, Serephina, feel free to speak your mind as well. You have my word that I will not act against either of you in any way for anything said on this balcony."

"Why are you here?" Dalia wastes no time in lashing out. "You care nothing for King Varian, you're just taking advantage of his grief to set yourself in the lap of luxury. You're nothing but a gold-digger. A glorified strumpet. Except a strumpet is more honest than you; she at least pays for her luxury with her body. From what I hear, you don't give him so much as a kiss. You're a parasite. Do you service your pet orc on the side, your Majesty? Is that why he's here?"

This is more like it. "It's true, I don't like him." Serephina gasps. "And it's equally true that we do not share a bed. That was all agreed on in the marriage treaty. It seems you are poorly-informed, my lady. The service I provide in exchange for my position is of a different nature. And no, I do not share my bed with Golthak either."

We are interrupted by the balcony door opening, and my lord husband joining us. "What are you doing out here, my lady wife?" he asks casually, his smile easy and charming but his eyes serious. "Your presence is sorely missed inside. Is there a problem?"

"Return to your guests, my lord husband. This is none of your concern."

His smile flickers briefly at my chilly tone. "It's my concern if you're involved, Taretha."

"Go away, Varian." The look I give him is not hostile, but no less intense for that lack. "This is not your fight."

Varian locks gazes with me for a long moment. He wants to stay, wants to defend me. I can see that clearly. After a moment he nods grimly, conceding the battlefield to me, and resumes his charming smile before leaving us alone again.

"How can you be so cruel?" Serephina bursts out once the doors close, pouting. "He loves you and you marry him even though you don't even like him? You should have turned him down so that someone who actually cares could have a chance to make him happy!"

"Someone like you, perhaps?" I raise one eyebrow as she flushes. "You accuse me of not caring, but look at yourself. You think frills and lace impress him? You look like a doll. A toy. A child. Do you even know what he likes? How he feels? Do you actually care about him, or are you just daydreaming about being courted by a king? Open your eyes, child. Real life isn't like nursery tales. The man you fantasize about loved Tiffin, and lost her, and loves her still. He told me so himself."

"But..." the girl protests, fighting to hold onto the shards of her dreams.

"What kind of nonsense did you fill her head with, Dalia?" I ask sharply. "Did you wean her on romantic fantasies of the handsome but bereaved king falling for her youthful beauty? Who will you marry her off to now? Someone old, someone fat, someone cruel? Will she even have a say in it?"

"Mamma?"

"Listen to me, Serephina," I hiss, "and listen well. I do not love Varian. I never pretended that I did. I have never presented myself to him as anything but what I am, and he chose to ask for my hand despite that. He is not impressed by simpers and curls, ruffles and pretty words. Do you honestly think other, prettier ladies haven't thrown themselves at him since Tiffin died? Stop living in a dream and think for yourself. Varian is a gentleman, but not all men of noble blood are. There are noblemen who will beat you, or speak harshly to you for no reason, or take their pleasure from you with or without your consent - and don't think your lady mother wouldn't marry you off to one of them if it would increase her standing. It's true that I don't like my lord husband...but I respect him. I swore at our wedding to honor and defend him, and by the ancestors, I will!"

Serephina's elaborately made-up eyes tremble with tears. "Mamma? You wouldn't – wouldn't–"

"Take your daughter home, my lady," I tell Dalia coolly. "Say that she felt ill and you were concerned for her. Say that I was concerned for her; I will corroborate that story and you will not lose face for this."

Dalia grabs her daughter's hand roughly. "I'll give you this round," she hisses at me, "but don't think you've won. This isn't over, not by a long shot."

I don my most charming smile. "Oh, but my lady, I have won. Here, let me get the door for you."

She glares daggers of pure hate at me as I hold the balcony door open, then assumes a mask of motherly concern. Serephina's face is screwed up horribly as she tries to not cry, and I follow them back into the crowd. I even escort them to the grand doors, using Golthak and the Royal Guard to clear a path. When they have left the ballroom, I turn around to find myself face to face with my unsmiling husband.

"What was that all about, Taretha?" he asks, too low to be overheard. "Lady Dalia's a backbiting snake that I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw Golthak. Your fight or not, I want to know what happened. If you can't tell me here, at least tell me later."

"Would you believe I was defending your honor?" I fight back a smile at his surprise. "I was just correcting a few misconceptions."

"Such as?"

"The idea that I am somehow taking advantage of your grief for my own benefit. The fantasy that you are unaware of the fact that I don't love you."

He grins slightly at that. "I can hardly miss that one, my lady. Still, you at least respect me enough to speak the truth to me, and while I would like your love, your honesty is more valuable."

Varian sweeps me a gracious bow before escorting me back into the crowd, and I can't help but feel that despite what I told Dalia, I didn't win this round.

He did.