Chapter 3 - Queen

Dahlia paced back and forth in her chambers, dark green eyes flitting from side to side in their hapless search for answers to her mental ails. Her similar colored gown glided about, matching her movements, gold trims grazing a lushly carpeted floor. Out of habit, she began biting her nails —something she often did as a child when worried or anxious. A habit she had never grown out of. Dawn break sunlight pierced the room and reflected from half open silk drapes. Annoyed, Dahlia opened them fully, along with the window, and stepped outside onto the balcony. She breathed in the morning breeze as it whispered through her golden locks. The royal palace was perched atop a plateau, allowing for a scenic view of Xenaria's capital, Exaltyron. Some weighing pressure was relieved from her mind, thumbnail though still pinched between her teeth.

Arms slid around her waist and lips pressed against her neck. "Worried about the Empire's emissary?" a husked voice asked. Dahlia nodded. Tarmia was to send diplomats to negotiate a halt in their repeated aggressions and she had no clue as to how she should respond. Half of her court was split between wanting peace while the other half demanded war. Loss of resources were weighed against vengeance for lost lives. One wrong move and the ensuing ripples would return with the wrath of a landslide.

The man fingered the strings to Dahlia's gown. Strings he'd tied for her himself not a minute ago. "Maybe I could help alleviate some of those worries," he whispered.

She turned around and swatted his hand away. Her gaze briefly wandered down to the sharp lines of his torso. He smiled at her and she gave him a stern look. "What are you still doing here, Adrian? If word gets out that the First Chancellor spends the night in the queen's chambers, the court will be in an uproar. Everyone knows you're in favor of ending the constant border skirmishes."

"Then why not announce our marriage?"

"I can't do that yet," she said, chewing on an index finger nail now. "It could complicate things. And Emma wouldn't understand. I don't think she ever fully accepted her father's death. Speaking of, is she on her way back to the city? I want her present at the meeting. As my heir, she needs to learn how these matters are settled."

"I did send Sir Draumen about two cycles back. But Princess Emeria is as stubborn as they come. I'm sure she'll come around to our relationship eventually. She is only fourteen, right? And… Having spent so much time at Arcaeus Peak, I don't think it'd be appropriate for her to attend a diplomatic meeting. She's likely to share the same opinions as The Huntress, given how much she is treated like family there."

Dahlia shook her head. Sar'tara had been more than just an older sister. As much as Dahlia wanted to claim the duchess a bad influence, she could not. "Sar'tara is headstrong, much like Lord Serene. I'm truthfully quite jealous of her. She is carefree about courtly affairs. A true silver eagle, unbound by anything. Though, I fear the distinct unladylike manner in which she oft conducts herself could end up rubbing off on Emma. I want her back here. Her studies have been halted for far too long."

"I'm certain that a studious man like Lord Kalin has our esteemed First Princess studying at least some subjects of import."

"And why might you be so against bringing my daughter to the Capital, Adrian Rinz?" Dahlia asked, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

"So most of your spare time is focused on me and not her," he answered as he pressed his lips against hers. She didn't push him back until a long moment had passed.

"Enough of that now. Get dressed. It's well past dawn."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said, feigning a serious attitude.

She walked to the door of her chambers and poked her head out into the corridor, checking to see if the coast was clear as Adrian dressed. She closed it when certain no maids were yet stalking the halls. The chancellor wore a pendant with a three pointed flower around his neck. It seemed an odd ornament for a man to wear. "The pendant. Is it a memento of another woman?"

Adrian laughed. "I didn't take you to be the jealous type, Dahlia. No. This is a trillium flower. It is the mark of the Order of Trillia. Speaking of, have you given any consideration to adopting the faith? There are many benefits, including feelings of serenity and ascension. And you will truly come to understand the beauty of living in peace and harmony with your neighbors. It is the reason I am in favor of ending our conflict with the Empire."

Dahlia's thin brows furrowed. "This again? My answer is still no. I am content with following the Laws of the Eternal Flame." The Trillian faith had emerged a few decades before Dahlia's time, though only gaining prominence within Xenaria in the last decade or so. They had grown into quite a large faction of late. She did not mind as the religion helped bring stability on most streets of her cities. But she also had a hard time understanding the faith. A faith based on worshipping a Goddess that was said to have descended during the War of Ashes. A faith of peace that worshipped a supposed war hero.

"Dahlia, I know I've said this many times but the Laws of the Eternal Flame were written by House Zz'tai. Disciples of the Tortured Throne. Yes, they contain a moral code of sorts, but that was made to control people, not liberate them. And I'm certain most of the court will come around eventually. The Trillian faith is spreading fast. Your decision at the diplomatic meeting should be an easy one."

There'd been something in the chancellor's tone of voice, a hint of regretful restraint. "You struggled really hard not to label me a heretic right then, didn't you? If you wish to liberate people, then they should be given the opportunity to decide for themselves." She bit her lower lip, very briefly doubting Adrian's affection for her. "But I love you. And I won't lie to you. I simply will not accept your Goddess as mine because of the political implications it could have. The court is fragile as it is and allowing another party of power to join the scene would upset the balance," Dahlia said.

Very few people still followed the Laws of the Eternal Flame; a moral code followed by Xenarian royalty even after the demise of House Zz'tai. There were conflicting opinions regarding whether the High House had been corrupted or if they were as such from the beginning. Trillians believed the latter.

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So did my ancestors, but they were the ones to write history after taking the throne for themselves.

Regardless, Dahlia dared not visit a Shrine of Flames. There were none left in Illusterra that still stood in decent condition. But every single one still had a burning flame within. Fearing corruption, shrines were avoided like the plague. The immortal flames were thought to be a dark magic. Exaltyron's Impoverished District was the by-product of a shrine. Dauntless criminals took up residence in the ruined houses surrounding the place, their influence slowly spreading with the passage of time. A blistering headache to every queen since a few centuries back.

"I see… I hadn't thought of it like that," Adrian said, buttoning his burgundy colored coat. It paired well with his near to black wavy hair. Outlines of his chest became clear as he buttoned the tight fit to the base of his throat.

Dahlia looked down, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She pulled open the door again. "Good. Now quickly get out of my room before my maids arrive." The First Chancellor turned around just as he passed through the doorway, smiling, expecting a goodbye kiss. Dahlia smiled back and closed the door in his face, keeping him hanging. She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back, one hand still on the knob.

Over a year had passed since Adrian had begun subtle courting attempts. Dahlia had been wary at first, suspecting the man of trying to take advantage of her loneliness. She eventually gave in, seeing as how he always did his best for the Xenarian people and adhered to strict mannerisms when presenting himself in public. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind during meetings, even if they conflicted with her opinions, and she admired that.

Something of their secret relationship rekindled passions from her younger days. Memories of Madrivall's boundless charm. His straight forward nature. His dauntless back, always ready to shield her when needed. Back then, she would slip away into the quiet hours of the night and sneak in to the Queen's Guard quarters just to visit him. In comparison, Adrian was more daring, visiting the queen's chambers himself, somehow avoiding the many servants and guards standing watch. Dahlia didn't mind that. There was something exciting and juvenile about hiding from everyone. Though admittedly, there was a pang of guilt when thinking of how Emeria would react if she ever learned of her mother's illicit relations.

Dahlia glanced at a white wardrobe opposite her bed. Madrivall's sword —the heirloom of House Lakris— lay beneath a neatly folded pile of his clothes. A magical Artifact called Wind's Eye. It repelled any projectiles coming within two feet of the bearer. A fitting Artifact for royalty to aid in avoiding possible assassination attempts. It was Dahlia's wedding gift to Madrivall.

Don't lament. Live happily and watch over our Emeria.

She closed her eyes. Her heart throbbed, recalling his final words. "I am happy," she whispered. "I've found someone just like you. I know you won't hate me for it. I can only hope Emma thinks the same."

Vibrations rung along the length of Dahlia's back as someone knocked on the door. She looked to the shadows in her room. They'd barely shifted since Adrian had left. Her maids weren't supposed to arrive quite yet. She opened the door, expecting the First Chancellor to have returned. Instead, a white haired man barely a half inch taller than her stood in the doorway. His thick white mustache shifted as a slight frown settled on his face, deepening the already visible lines of old age upon it.

"Your Majesty, were you expecting someone?"

She sucked in a quick breath, realizing that she'd opened her door too quickly. Finral Luçen, her grand chamberlain, was sharper than his looks would suggest. She glanced over his appearance without changing her plain expression, looking for any hints that would suggest Finral had seen Adrian on his way to her room. There was nothing of the sort. But the man's dark green attire was fitted with wrinkles, suggesting that he'd hurried to see her. Dahlia pushed back against an inflating headache. There were very few reasons as to why her chamberlain would rush to meet her so early in the morning.

"And you're already dressed too," Finral noted.

You're already dressed without the aid of your maids is what that statement implied. Nothing passed over him. If she turned, he would notice the crude knots that Adrian had made when tying her dress. Knots that delicate female hands would never make.

"But your hair is still rather unruly." Curious eyes looked past her, trying to find a person they suspected to be hidden within.

"I woke up early is all," Dahlia quickly said. "A bit anxious regarding the Empire's emissaries. I dressed myself to pass the time. Turned out to be quite a struggle."

"Ah, understandable. Even this many years into your reign, nerves still affect you."

"Had anyone else said those words, I'd take them to be an insult," Dahlia frowned, causing the old man to chuckle. "What are you here for, Finral? Something bothersome, I assume?"

"Just here to deliver what arrived by message birds this morning. The Empire's emissaries are a still a number of days out. You needn't worry about that. Yet." He paused, seeing if she would scowl further, smiling when she did. "Jasim Galadin will be arriving at the city as expected. His iron supplies Duke Serene's armory after all. We can expect him to be present at the meeting with the emissaries."

"His voice will be useless," Dahlia said, biting her thumb nail. "He's in favor of a continued war. It allows him to continue selling iron. What of the other High Houses?"

"About that… Lord Coraine has… declined. The admiral's response contained a very simple 'Sorry,' and 'Theodore Coraine' signed at the bottom."

An expected response, but enraging nonetheless. Theodore was a man of unpredictable character. "Kalin and Sar'tara won't come. They've lost many good men to the Empire's aggressions. We can consider them favored towards a war or at least expecting large amounts in compensation or blood money. What of the Caranels?" House Caranel's opinions would be one of the most valuable. They lorded over northern Xenaria, detached from most of the nation's on goings. But their lands produced over a third of Xenaria's grains. Any matter related to war would impact them directly. "Who leads the Caranels again?"

"Mm. That would be the dessert of the messages I received. A bitter dessert though," Finral said, tugging at the ends of his curled mustache. "Another Caranel has turned up dead. The Lady Noreen Caranel this time. She was the current House Lord, I believe, after a string of assassinations. Given her personality, I thought her to be behind everything. All that remains is her ten year old son and his uncle, Agrienne Caranel. He is a bastard, but given the situation, he has assumed lordship since he is the only one old enough to do so. They won't be attending due to the fragile state of their House. Doubtful they'd have ever made it in time anyway. Same with Lord Coraine. They responded rather late to your request for attendance."

"Agrienne…" A terribly handsome man with an equally terrible personality. Dahlia had lost count of the times he'd tried courting her whilst also making moves on other women, maids and courtesans included. "He had always seemed the aloof and careless type. Ignorant even. I didn't take him as the scheming kind."

"Quite the surprise. He was the only Caranel who tended to venture out of northern Xenaria. One would consider him distanced from family politics. There is always the possibility that Lady Noreen died of natural causes. But…"

"A strange circumstance. And strange circumstances require imaginative doubts," Dahlia said, repeating Finral's mantra that he'd taught her when she was a child.

The old man smiled. "Indeed. After all, imagination is a weapon. Fail to use it and you'll soon find yourself in peril. I have nothing further to report. I'll send the maids up to fix your hair and dress knots."

Dahlia nodded. She watched the old man walk down the hall with his hands behind his back. Finral had an overly fond disposition toward philosophy. One that annoyed Dahlia often, though she sometimes found herself pondering on his words. She shut the door after he'd rounded a corner. What was it he'd once said? Those who write history oft do so at the behest of murderers.

Dahlia sighed, focusing instead on what he'd just reported. Her eyebrows drew closer to each other. Did he say dress knots? Does he…? No. I'm just imagining things.