Book 1: Chapter 3 - Strength [Part 2]
She was young—or young again, she reminded herself. Not that she was old in her previous life, of course. And with this newfound youth came both its advantages and its annoyances. For one, she had to endure this world’s version of education.
Seraphina moved gracefully across the length of the room, gliding with an almost otherworldly poise as she balanced three books on her head. Her deportment instructor gave her a grudging nod of approval, but her mother, the Duchess Anaselena, remained mostly impassive. Mostly, for there was a hint of pride in the green eyes that mirrored her own.
Seraphina casually removed the books from her head, placing them delicately on a large wooden table.
“Now that you have started your menses we can go ahead with the formal ceremony for your engagement to Velens,” the Duchess stated. “It seems that your practice is finally beginning to bear fruit. Now remind me Sera, how is our Kingdom of Aranthia governed?”
Seraphina straightened, her posture as flawless as the balance of the books she'd just set aside. The question was, no doubt, a test—a way for her mother to gauge her grasp of the knowledge required of a future duchess and potential queen. She studied her mother, a woman cut from the same cloth as herself. They shared the same eyes, skin, and hair, all in matching hues, with flawless features that would captivate any red-blooded man.
Anaselena was a vision of what Seraphina might become. The only differences lay in her mother’s slightly guarded gaze and the more generous proportions that age had bestowed upon her.
She cracked her fingers, drawing a few raised eyebrows, took a measured breath and began.
"Aranthia is governed through a layered feudal system," she explained, her voice steady. "At the top sits the royal family, with King Elidion ruling as sovereign and his son, Crown Prince Velens, next in line to the throne. Beneath the crown, noble houses hold power, each with responsibilities tied to their titles and lands. The strongest of these houses are the duchies—such as ours," she added, casting a quick glance at her mother.
"Our duchy," she continued, "holds strategic lands in the north, making Father not only a powerful noble in his own right but a critical ally to the crown. It’s a position of influence strengthened by his royal blood, which connects our house to the ruling family."
The Duchess gave a slight nod, fanning herself with a crimson fan before closing it and prompting her to go on.
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"Under the dukes are the marquesses, each responsible for border territories and charged with their defense, especially against the southern and eastern realms. Below them are the counts, who manage the smaller provinces and oversee trade routes and local economies. Then there are the viscounts and barons, who serve as local lords with limited military and administrative power."
Seraphina paused, gauging her mother’s reaction before continuing. "Each noble house has a duty to its liege lord, which in our case is the crown, and that duty is primarily military and economic support. In return, the king grants them autonomy over their lands and the people within them, as long as they uphold their obligations and show loyalty to the throne."
The Duchess's expression softened, if only slightly. "Correct, Sera. A true noble's power lies not only in wealth or military might, but in influence—both with the crown and among the other houses. That is why your engagement to Velens is so essential. It’s not just a marriage; it’s an alliance. Elidion instead of seeking a foreign princess for Velens, seeks to strengthen his position here in Aranthia. It is a unique opportunity for our family."
Seraphina inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Yes, Mother. I understand." Inwardly, Seraphina seethed. Though she wanted to have her hands on the reins of power, doing so while being sold like a heifer at market grated at her sensibilities.
She was determined to come into power on her own terms.
The Duchess Anaselena leaned forward, her tone shifting to one of quiet intensity. "Good. Remember that you carry the hopes of our house, and your actions reflect on us all. Prince Velens has his own ambitions, as do the other noble families. Power shifts as easily as sand in the desert wind, and the strongest must adapt—or be swept away."
Seraphina nodded solemnly, keeping up the facade of an obedient daughter. "I will do what is expected of me." She had played this game before and had come out the victor.
"Yes," the Duchess replied, a hint of pride glinting in her emerald eyes—eyes that saw much. "I believe you will."
The older woman stood, approaching Seraphina. Nearly a head taller than her daughter, she could cut an imposing figure. She drew Seraphina close to her soft bosom, whispering fiercely into her ear. The scent of lilacs, her mother’s perfume, filled Seraphina’s senses.
"You have inherited all my gifts… save for one. The Dreamsight. This is the only way for you to stay strong when they realize you can not pierce the future’s veil, my love."
Anaselena gently pushed her back to look deeply into her eyes, searching for something. "You must make Velens your own—heart and soul. I do believe that you have met him before, when he visited our estates. He was a good boy then. I believe that was when Anatoli and Elidion made their promise. You could not hope for a better match."
There was a hesitancy in her mother’s tone that was anything but reassuring.
A memory surfaced, dredged up from this body’s past—a time when she had beaten a sniveling boy her age with a stick in the garden. He had boasted about being the best swordsman in the land, and she had put him in his place. It had been one of the instances when Seraphina had cursed her own Strength.
The old Seraphina had been very unladylike that day.