Slight Trigger Warning (In Spoiler Tags for those who like to avoid them):

Nothing graphic, but there is some reference to HOW the Eld got Vaedic blood, and it's about what you'd expect from a relationship between slavers and the people they have enslaved.

“He didn’t seem very upset to be imprisoning his mother,” Liv observed, following Lady Julianne into the first carriage, along with Baron Henry and her father. “In fact, it didn’t feel like he gave us much trouble at all.”

“Pull the door closed while they load the chair,” Henry said, and Liv followed his instructions.

“Benedict doesn’t get upset,” Julianne said. “If he does, you can be certain that its because appearing upset gets him something. Think about it, Liv. What did he get out of this?”

“Well, he gets peace,” Liv said. “And not just with you, but with my father, as well. The guilds get to keep their contract.”

“That is only keeping what he already had,” Valtteri said. “What has changed?”

“There’s a third duchy. But how does that help him?”

“Two smaller duchies in the place of one larger means they each pose less of a threat to his power,” Julianne explained. “It’s to our benefit, or I wouldn’t have pushed for it. I expect that as the years pass, we’ll find anyone who disagrees with Benedict will gravitate to us. We can use that manpower, and the lure of new baronies, to develop the north. What else has changed, Liv?”

“Other than his mother being exiled to an island, I don’t see anything,” she complained.

“There it is,” her father told her.

“Wait, what?” Liv was confused. “He wanted his mother gone?”

“With her out of the way, and my father unwell, Benedict is effectively king. He no longer needs to worry about his mother splitting his power base or working for her own aims,” Lady Julianne explained. “He won’t be blamed for moving against her, because he has a crime to lay at her feet. And with a public declaration that I’m relinquishing any rights of succession, he will now be utterly unopposed.”

“It sounds like we just lost,” Liv said.

“Only if you thought winning meant Julianne sitting on the throne,” Henry explained. “Which was never what we wanted. We wanted assurances of safety for you and Matthew, and a greater degree of independence for Whitehill.”

“Benedict is smarter than his mother ever was,” Julianne said. “He’ll leave us be unless we give him a reason not to. In the meanwhile, we aren’t forced into a war we can’t win. Victory for us has always been about survival, Liv. As long as we’re still here, we’re winning.”

“Did he plan it, then?” Liv demanded. “Did he set his own mother up?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know that for certain,” Henry said. “Does it matter?”

“If she didn’t give the order, then it isn’t really justice, is it?” Liv complained.

“No. It’s politics.” Julianne slumped back against the cushioned bench, looking rather exhausted.

“I don’t think I like it,” Liv decided.

☙

As promised, the princess’ bracelet and ring set arrived that evening, in a fine box of polished cherry-wood. Thora brought it up to Liv’s room, where they examined it together.

“The stones are all dull,” the lady’s maid said. “Not like the one you have.”

“She probably emptied it of mana before sending it over,” Liv said. “I’ll have to experiment to see how much it can hold. When I’ve filled the stones up, they’ll look like you’re used to.” Careful to avoid twisting it, Liv removed her guild ring from her left hand and put it on the ring finger of her right hand.

It turned out that Princess Millie’s fingers were just a little bit thicker than Liv’s, but once she’d gotten the bracelet and the last ring on, the entire set of jewelry shuddered for just a moment and then shrank until it fit her perfectly. “This feels very odd,” Liv remarked, holding her hand up and turning it around to watch the silver chains sparkle in the light of the oil lamps. “Let’s see then…”

Carefully, she pushed mana into the large stone set in the middle of the golden bracelet. The faintest spark of blue and gold lit inside the polished gray rock, flickered, and grew, like coals flaring when someone blew on them. By the time Liv had all six stones in the set lit, she’d emptied half the mana she could hold.

“Call it eight rings,” she declared. “That is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? Master Grenfell said there are people going to Coral Bay who only graduate being able to hold nine.”

“A normal person like me can’t hold any, m’lady,” Thora pointed out.

Liv shook her head. “Actually, you’re probably holding one right now, but you’ve never been trained to use it. With something like this, Thora, you’d have as much power as a journeyman mage. It just feels so unfair, when you think about it. The princess didn’t work for this magic: she bought it. And she killed girls in duels not because she was better than them, but because she had more money, and she could get away with it.”

“And now it’s yours, so I hope you’ll put it to better use,” Thora said. “You’re not planning on wearing it to bed though, are you?”

“No.” Liv grinned, and began to work the rings off. “A single ring is one thing, but this is too much. I’d catch it on my pillow or pinch myself or something.”

☙

While Baron Henry and Lady Julianne attended the third day of the great council - they’d missed the second, while everyone was holed up in Acton House - Liv tried to stay out of the way. Thora and the rest of the servants, under First Footman Archibald’s direction, were busily engaged in packing up everything that would be taken back to Whitehill.

Liv’s clothing, save the dress she was wearing and one for the next day, along with a spare shift to sleep in, had already been carefully folded and stowed in her trunk. Thora, she had learned, would be coming back to Whitehill with them, to continue her duties as a lady’s maid. Liv wasn’t certain how she felt about that: only a month before, she would have said she didn’t need anyone to help her dress, but now she’d gotten used to it. And she liked Thora: she was certain that she’d miss the girl if they left her behind.

She spent most of her day down on the beach, with Master Grenfell and her father, huddled inside her winter cloak against the cold wind off the ocean. There was a hint of winter in the air, and back home, the harvest must have already been brought in.

“My goal was to teach her flexibility,” Grenfell explained. They’d each found a piece of driftwood to sit on. “Most students, even noble-born children with tutors, only get perhaps a decade of tutoring before going to Coral Bay. Vædic is a challenging language by itself, but they also need to learn principles of grammar, usually from the ground up. Knowing that Liv had decades to work with, I thought it would be a better foundation for her to master grammar than to try learning a second or third word of power.”

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“From what I’ve been told,” Liv’s father said, “it paid off. You won your duel because your depth of knowledge and practice with Cel allowed you to both attack and defend, surprising your opponent with things she never expected you to be able to do.”

“Princess Milisant, on the other hand,” Grenfell said, “essentially only used a single spell, repeatedly. Supplemented by enchanted devices that gave her access to more mana, and the ability to speed up and enhance that specific spell. She had one trick, and when it didn’t work, the outcome was a foregone conclusion.”

“It didn’t feel like a foregone conclusion at the time,” Liv said, kicking at the sand with her shoes.

“If you’re determined to go to college at Coral Bay in a few years,” Valtteri said, “you’ll learn a second word there. Aluth is a solid choice; I have no objections. And the opportunity of learning this other word-”

“Cei,” Liv supplied.

“It’s too good of a chance to pass up.” Her father considered, and the wind caught up his braids, making a clacking sound as the bone charms woven into them hit each other. “Those words will be more difficult, Liv. Cel is something you inherited, and it seems to come to you instinctually. You should never have been able to use it to call lightning, at your level of skill. And learning two words in quick succession will take even more work. If you are willing, what I would like to teach you are the things about the word you already know that could take you decades to fumble through on your own. A thousand years of trial and error, passed down from generation to generation.”

Liv nodded. “There’s so much I don’t understand,” she admitted. “What you did was mind-boggling, but I can see how it’s possible with the right intent and enough mana. But then the stories I’ve heard about my aunt don’t even make sense. She used a sword of ice, right? But when I do that, I nearly freeze my hands off if I’m not wearing padded gloves. And then how did she control five?”

“I can teach you,” her father promised. “The chief question is where. You’ve already said that you don’t want to leave your mother behind. Would it be alright with you if I lived at Whitehill for a few years, Livara?”

“I think I’d like that.” Liv couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “In the castle, or in town? Will - will it be alright, between you and my mother?”

“Those are things that you don’t need to worry about,” Valtteri said. “I will speak with Lady Julianne and Baron Henry, first, and then I will speak with Margaret. If they would be more comfortable with a bit of distance, I will buy or rent a home in town. Our family has an account with the bankers guild. In fact,” he decided, looking over to Master Grenfell, “I’d like to take her over to their guild hall and have Livara given access to family funds.”

Grenfell considered. “We seem to have averted open conflict,” he said. “But I think it would be prudent to travel with an escort. I’d hate to have some sort of trouble just before we’re all set to leave. Let me go up and get a carriage ready.” The older mage winced as he stood up, and then set off up the stone steps toward Acton House.

“Will you travel with us, then?” Liv asked. “Through the waystone?”

“I will,” her father said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Whitehill, but my memories from there are good ones. Your mother was kind to me at a time when I very much needed that.”

“Your sister,” Liv said. “My aunt. When we have time, can you tell me about her? And about your parents - I don’t even know who all is in our family.”

“Of course.” Her father stood. “Perhaps not as many as you might expect,” he began, waiting for her to get up and walk at his side. "Our beginning was not a happy one. Some of the Vædim took lovers among their slaves, and supposedly a few of those relationships were even warm ones. Bælris and his lover were like that, if you take young Inkeris and his family at their word. But not Celris.”

“I noticed that his house is named after Bælris,” Liv commented, taking her time up the bluff. “But our family isn’t - it isn’t the House of Celris, I mean.”

“No.” Valtteri shook his head. “By all accounts, Celris was a cruel master. He did not take lovers, he merely sated himself on whatever slaves caught his eye. The last of those was a young woman named Syvä, and by the time the war began she was pregnant with Celris’ child.”

“He raped her,” Liv realized.

“Which is why we honor her, and not him,” Valtteri confirmed. “He doesn’t deserve to have his memory honored. Syvä was my grandmother, but unlike her children, she had no Vædic blood herself. She passed about four centuries after the war, leaving my father, Auris, to take her place on the council of elders.”

“How old is your father?” Liv asked. They’d reached the top of the bluff, and the guards opened the gate to let them into the back garden.

“Over twelve hundred years old,” Valtteri told her. “He is half Vædim, and on top of that sustains himself on the dense mana from the rift at the Tomb of Celris. But even he will not last forever, Livara, and he has been growing frail for many years. I think he would like to meet you, before he passes from the world. My older sister was meant to be his heir, and he loved her very much. You look so much like her - I think it would be a comfort to him.”

“Maybe we could visit?” Liv suggested.

“It is very far north,” her father said. “But we have time before you go to Coral Bay. I believe we could make that happen, yes.”

By the time they reached the front of the house, Master Grenfell was waiting with a carriage and two guards on horseback. In Whitehill, they’d never needed guards just to move about in town, but now Liv found that she didn’t think only two men would be enough. She kept her staff close to hand for the entire ride, but with everything that had happened, she still couldn’t feel safe. However, the carriage made its way across the city of Freeport without incident, to the same neighborhood where the mages’ guild hall was located.

“Are all the guildhalls together?” Liv asked.

“They are, and it took some doing to find a lot for sale when we were granted our royal charter,” Grenfell explained. “The difficulties of coming along late, I suppose. Here we are.”

The guildhall of the Most Noble Bankers Guild was fronted by columns of white marble, and Liv saw a steady stream of people both coming and going through the massive double doors. There were guards there, though they seemed to do little but watch those who passed. Liv’s father led the way inside, and before long they’d been ushered into a quiet office where they were served tea, as well as slices of a very moist cake made with cinnamon from Lendh ka Dakruim.

“It is always a pleasure to welcome a member of the House of Syvä,” a woman in the plain gray dress of a merchant said, after Liv’s father had put his hand to a plate of enchanted metal and given his name. Liv was amazed at how painted the banker’s face was: she didn’t think she could see a single sliver of natural skin beneath the powder, rouge, and kohl.

“I wish to grant my daughter access to the house account,” Valtteri declared, while Liv spread fresh butter on her piece of cinnamon cake. She could tell there was no mana in it, but the treat smelled wonderfully all the same.

“Of course,” the banker said. How did she manage to keep that broad smile, even while she was talking? “Your name, dear?” The woman pushed the enchanted metal plate across the table to Liv.

“Mmm.” Liv swallowed her bite of cake, then set her palm down on the metal. “Livara Tär Valtteri Kaen Syvä,” she said. “What would happen if I was lying?”

“The sigils would light red,” the banker told her. “Would you like to set a limit on your daughter’s ability to withdraw funds, Lord Valtteri?”

“Call it five crowns in a month,” Liv's father decided, after a moment. “That should be enough to get you out of trouble, if you ever need it. This is for emergencies, mind you.”

Liv coughed, spraying crumbs everywhere. “I can’t even imagine how I would spend that much money,” she admitted.

“You haven’t asked Lady Julianne how much she’s paid for all those new dresses, have you?” Master Grenfell asked, with a smile.

“Make certain that your people in Whitehill and Coral Bay have her added as quickly as possible,” Valtteri instructed. “Oh, and Al'Fenthia. Everywhere else is less urgent.”

“Of course, my lord,” the banker said. “Is there anything else we can help you with, today?”

Liv’s father thought for a moment. “When you contact the Whitehill hall, inform them that I may be purchasing property there in the near future, and I would appreciate it if they were prepared.”

When they left the bankers’ guild, Liv’s pocket was five gold crowns heavier, at her father’s insistence. “Better to have it, in case you need it,” he told her, and then they piled back into the carriage.

By the time they’d arrived back at Acton House, Lady Julianne and Baron Henry had returned, and the entire building was a mad-house with all the packing. Liv gathered that there’d been no further surprises at the council, and the plan to leave in the morning was unchanged. That left her with only one thing to do.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she told her father, giving him a quick hug. Valtteri would be staying the night at the embassy. In the morning, he would collect the few things he’d brought to Freeport, and meet them for the trip across Freeport to the waystone.

Liv slipped through the house and out to the garden, avoiding all the commotion, and from there down the stairs to the beach, with one of the guards posted at the garden gate trailing behind her.

She turned left and walked along the strand, keeping high enough up the beach so that her shoes didn’t get wet in the surf. She walked until she recognized the lower bluffs, and turned up the trail that led to the Talbots’ menagerie and practice yard. Liv walked between the cages, then straight up to the back door, where she raised her hand and knocked.