24. No mistress

[moonshadows]

“Queen Taretha!”

The young woman with elaborately-curled black hair bobs a quick curtsy and at first, I don’t recognize her. “…Serephina? It’s been a while. How are you?”

Made-up eyes flick at the nobles within earshot. “Yes, your Majesty, it has, but it’s quite loud here. Maybe we could catch up on the balcony?”

The balcony. Where I unleashed the sharp edge of my tongue on her and her mother. “Of course.”

Once the noise of the ball has been muted by glass doors, Serephina gives me a pleading look. “This isn’t about me, your Majesty. When I refused to be my lady mother’s pawn, she devised a new game. Everyone knows you don’t stick around once King Varian starts drinking, and my lady mother figures a mistress is almost as good as a wife.”

Fire fills my mind. “Who?”

“Lady Calriss. As soon as you’re gone and King Varian starts getting tipsy, she does everything short of gluing herself to him. He hasn’t returned any of her advances yet, but everyone thinks it’s just a matter of time – especially since he stopped…well, showing affection to you.”

Stopped showing affection to me, which he did because I asked him to not pursue it. The greatest proof yet of his inexplicably thriving love for me. As much as I hate to admit to liking anything about him, I am finding his dedication….endearing. The idea of a rival for the affections I don’t want makes me feel like the wolf he named me, and I suddenly feel sympathy for Grom’s battle of will if this is what bloodlust tastes like.

“…Majesty?” Serephina looks at me nervously.

“Varian will not be drinking tonight. Is Calriss likely to make a move anyway?”

She glances through the glass. “…she already is.”

“I appreciate the kindness you have done me, Serephina. Thank you.”

Recognizing the dismissal, the girl curtsies and flees the balcony with unhurried grace. I take a moment to compose myself, then glide through the crowds until I can approach my husband and the interloper from upwind, as it were. Her back is to me, but Varian sees me clearly over her shoulder. Although his smile is easy and charming, his eyes plead wordlessly with me when our gazes lock. I know I have no right, but… they say.

I move in for the kill.

“Lady Calriss, what a pleasure! I don’t believe we’ve yet become acquainted with one another, although my lord husband seems to know you well.” I smile charmingly, using the body language I learned under Blackmoore’s harsh tutelage.

Her smile is as false as mine. “Indeed, your Majesty, we haven’t.”

“Well then, shall we three adjourn to the balcony, where it’s quieter?”

“An excellent idea,” Varian interjects, and Calriss’s smile flickers briefly.

“Of course, Majesties.”

Once the door has closed again, I turn on the intruder. “I want to say first that I give my word: I will take no action against anyone for anything said on this balcony.” My smile could cut glass. “Just ask Lady Dalia.”

Calriss looks taken aback by my expression, but Varian is warily hopeful.

“You’ve been flirting with my husband,” I continue bluntly. “Stop it.”

Calriss’s smile turns smug. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

I make a sharp, slicing gesture with one hand. “I don’t care. He’s my husband. Stop it.”

“Why? You don’t seem in any rush to enjoy the benefits of having him. Why shouldn’t someone else?”

“You have many gowns you’re not wearing. Should I break into your house, then, and wear them?”

Her smug fades. “That’s different. That’s property, and there are laws against that. That’s not a person, who has free will.”

“My lord husband, are there no laws protecting the rights of husband and wife?”

“The laws are quiet explicit,” he agrees, and I can sense him moving closer to me. Not enough to be threatening, but enough to show wordlessly who he is siding with.

“You are correct in that he is a person, with free will. And with that free will, he asked for my hand and negotiated a treaty - which was quite extensive - for the sole purpose of claiming it. He made a commitment to me, and I am honor-bound to support him in it, as I would for any other commitment he made.” I pause, malicious amusement suffusing my smile. “Lady Dalia really should have done her research. Either that, or she just didn’t feel like sharing with you.”

“What do you mean?” Calriss asks warily.

Varian edges closer to me, and laughs. “The treaty explicitly forbids any extra-marital engagement. In fact, if I were to take a mistress, my lady wife would be legally obliged to invite her brother over for a martial visit.” He crosses his arms, poised and confident. “No tumble in the sack is worth war with the Horde, Calriss. If that was Dalia’s plan, I think I need to have a private word with her.”

“Varian! I gave my word-“

“-that you would take no action.” He smiles tightly at me, weathering my anger easily. “I made no such promise, and I do not appreciate Dalia’s meddling in my private affairs.” He turns back to his would-be mistress. “Now, either you go and tell Dalia that you’re bowing out of her games, or I go see whether I should charge you with conspiracy, treason, or both.”

Calriss pales. “Dalia can hang by herself; I want no part of her schemes, and I’ll spread the word. Whatever grudge she has against your wife, Sire, it’s not worth hanging for.” She dips a curtsy. “If you will excuse me, Majesties…”

My nod releases her; she flees, leaving me alone on the balcony with my husband. For a long moment we stand side by side in silence, each waiting for the other to speak – or perhaps, for the bloodlust to fade. My initial instinct is to ask why he didn’t bring this to my attention when it started, but almost immediately I realize that he would not want to look like he was trying to win me through sympathy, or burden me with guilt over not accepting his advances. No doubt he is answering his own question, as well. Why did I defend him? Because I am a wolf, and he is part of my pack.

“Thank you,” he says finally, gratitude and apology in his soft tone.

Words seem inadequate for this moment of solidarity. Instead, I take his hand and squeeze tightly. He squeezes back, returning my silent reassurance. When I finally look at him, he nods solemnly and I do the same. It’s understood now that even if I don’t like him, I will stand proudly and fiercely by him. The moment of unspoken agreement continues, and our clasped hands somehow become my hand on his arm as though it were the hilt of a sword, and I ready to draw it. We sweep back out into the ball, and each eye that averts itself from us is a victory.