The Arete - Princess-Consort Ch. 01

"Your call, Your Highness. However you want to waste the palace budget is not my business, but I don't have enough work for the two servants I already have, let alone a fake valet," I laughed with her, seating myself in front of my glass, "You do also realize I've no knowledge of my upper house to share with a spy?"

"I realize. Aren't you at all worried that I'm actually sending an assassin disguised as a valet instead of a spy disguised as a valet?" She smiled conspiratorially behind her glass.

"Not especially. Seems like an unnecessary level of effort when you could just poison my food or wine," I took a large drink. "Or have a guardswomen's arrow go astray in the training yard. Or throw me off your balcony. Really, it wouldn't matter how I actually died. No one would gainsay whatever story you gave."

"Sounds plausible and bleak." She took a drink of her wine. "Why are you so sure it won't happen?"

"I'm not sure, per se. But I couldn't reasonably be expected to stop my assassination under these circumstances. Even should I foil an attempt, more would simply follow until one succeeded."

"Yet, you don't believe any such attempts are in motion, do you? Why?"

"Instigated by you personally or your house in general?"

"Me personally," she shrugged, as though the distinction didn't matter.

"No motive. I'm no rival to you. Also, intuitively, you don't seem the type to unnecessarily socialize with someone you want dead."

"That's true. But you could be a distant rival. You haven't considered how close in line you'll be to the throne?"

I chuckled. "At least a dozen back, I'd guess. Even if I survived whatever plague might bring me to the head of the line, surely a scion of one of the great houses would be chosen instead? I'm not trained to rule and doubt I'd have the aptitude even if born to the throne."

"Is that why you don't fear my family in general?"

"No. I'm not afraid because I'd be a very odd choice for betrothal if intended to be murdered," I held up my hands, "Don't get me wrong. I know I'm among the least of my house, and an orphan to boot. I'm also pretty sure Laerdya would let any of her family - except maybe her own daughters and close nieces - be flayed alive for an extra tract of land in the dowry. So long as it was a closed casket."

Yonjax agreed, "She is a cold one, your cousin."

"Among her vices is not wastefulness however, and there's honor in having an elite cataphract officer numbered among us. Not enough to keep me from being killed with impunity, but why throw away a productive member of the family? And, with such a hurry to conclude the alliance, why wait for a campaigning officer with inutile candidates readily available to be betrothed and killed?" I gestured dispassionately with my rhetoric. "Were you looking for one of us to be married and murdered, Laerdya would have offered up a de trop unmarried mesne lord within a week's ride. Probably reclaim the land too."

"Likely she would," Yonjax snorted and swirled her wine."So why do you think you were selected?"

"Up until today, I assumed that your sister was grossly malformed - either mentally or physically - in such a way that she would be an undesirable bride and need specialized care here at the palace. I'm a loyal soldier without matrimony and land ownership in my future otherwise, so I'd dutifully enter matrimonium politicus and promptly return to the field."

"And now that you've met Caeli?"

"She seems... extremely agreeably disposed in both appearance and manner." Oddly, I'd no trouble in merely acknowledging her indisputable beauty, but explaining that I felt so much more than physical lust after only a few words exchanged was embarrassing and ridiculous. "I don't understand my luck. A political reason must exist beyond my ken."

"Maybe. Certainly the alliance itself is purely political, a double marriage with the dowries heavily favoring your house to buy continued fealty. My marriage was the other half, conducted as planned about six months ago to one of Laerdya's grandnieces."

"I didn't know you were married?"

"Oh yes. Your cousin, Poumi, is wholly suitable to my house and wholly ornamental to me. She has her own rooms where I seldom visit beyond occasional carnal interactions and we meet in public only on ceremonial occasions or joint duties." Yonjax finished her wine. A servant bent to refill it before the empty glass touched the table. "I'll honor my vow to her, of course. And, provided she doesn't publicize my cuckold's horns, I will continue to publically ignore her personal 'harpist' who never plucks a string. Just as she publicly ignores the steady stream of strumpets with whom I engage."

"That's... considerate of you." I couldn't fault her. Or my cousin. I'd have accepted a similar arrangement for my own forced union, until I met Caeli.

"Civility is a low bar when we've both anticipated an involuntary marriage from birth. Caeli has too, but her rearing was much more conservatively traditional. You'll find that she's never been given access to a 'harpist' for example."

I frowned. Caeli was young, but not that young. (20, I learned later.) "That must be lonely."

"Yes, but very much only in that one area. Caeli is everyone's favorite." Yonjax smiled and shook her head, "She blithely enters the throne room with the Queen in her darkest moods and cheers her up more often than not. Despite the stick up Heoldax's ass, Caeli gets her to be silly on occasion, like when my austere eldest sister performed the very solemn knighting of Caeli's cat, Ser Whiskers, when Caeli was little."

I smiled too at the thought of the stern and serious heir apparent agreeing to such a ludicrous ceremony.

Yonjax wistfully waxed nostalgic, "On my worst day of training as a squire, I'd taken at least a dozen falls and more blows than I could count, but nothing was more bruised than my teen pride. I returned to my rooms and bawled like a baby. Caeli found me there and hugged me until I could smile again."

Soldiers cry, especially young soldiers. Homesickness, failure-to-promote, and heartbreak are common causes, but the most common is frustration with poor performance. Despite the universal affliction of uncontrollable tears, every effort is made to cry in private and conversely every effort is made to afford that privacy to a crying comrade. Neither the cryer nor the witness can avoid embarrassment at the shame of breaking into tears, because it is universal, but a universal weakness in which any indulgence is over-indulgence.

I'd be more welcomed and more likely to talk to a soldier in the middle of defecating, fucking, or dueling than one overcome by emotion. For Yonjax to be comforted by someone finding and touching her in that state bespoke an extraordinarily deep bond and a truly beloved supporter.

"Beyond being a favorite on her own merit, Caeli is the spitting image and youngest born of our mother, the Queen's greatly beloved late second wife. The Queen took several years to bring herself to remarry, so Caeli was the baby for nearly a decade before Rarciv came along, which I'm sure contributed to the focus and consensus of her popularity."

Yonjax gestured. An eating knife and a plate of fresh venison, white bread, salted butter, grilled carrots, raw radishes, fried mushrooms, and red grapes were set before each of us. I have the good sense to eat when fed, so I tucked in.

My future sister-in-law toyed with her grapes, deliberately stabbing and eating a single grape at a time with the sharp knife. "So just imagine our response when Laerdya's daughter and presumed heir, your cousin Trogox, held Caeli's hands so tightly at their betrothal that my little sister whimpered and knelt. All the while that cruel brute looked at my sweet little sister the way a savage wolf looks at a hobbled horse."

I exhaled a low whistle.

"The Queen did not confirm the betrothal. Instead, all present were dismissed due to an emergent threat and "necessary" war council. I - already married myself at that point to Poumi - whisked Caeli back to her rooms and stood half the royal guard outside her door."

"Caw," I answered, on the edge of my seat. Any fool could guess an "emergency" at that moment was fake, but affected for plausible deniability. Not returning to the betrothal or setting a date to do so immediately could be seen only as a slight, an extremely dangerous course of action given the wedding itself was to strengthen weakened bonds of fealty.

"Caw's right. I thought the whole contingent from your house might come for her. Instead, the Queen and Laerdya struck a new bargain. Your cousin Trogox would recant her betrothal oath on the respectable grounds that the fake emergency required focused military leadership. She'd be appointed a lieutenant generalship beneath my second oldest sister Jelvix, a position which would be tied to your house for no less than a decade. A rather massive increase in dowry, also to the house itself and not to the betrothed, further sweetened the pot. In exchange, we could pick any potential suitor from her house - subject to Laerdya's veto - and the new couple would reside at the palace."

"So I was chosen for Laerdya's approval because I'd live quietly at the palace and not demand a portionant amount of the dowry?"

"Yes. And no. Or not so simply," Yonjax further explained, "We faced an immediate difficulty in choice on our end too. The surviving upper rungs of your house - where we should rightly have looked for a Princess-Consort - are known to survive each other through exceeding viciousness, and not all are so blatantly unsubtle in their cruelty as Trogox. How could we know which unmarried viper would refuse to strike her own wife behind closed doors?"

"I don't know. Ask former lovers?"

"Certainly we considered that first. But whores are paid to fake affection and a mistreated mistress would either leave out of self-respect or hush out of self-interest. It was Heoldax who thought of reviewing company officers, since you lot do keep such detailed and unbiased records of how fairly and kindly you treat people entrusted to you. Additionally, because any noble who'd shed blood in the Queen's name would be an honorable match for any wife, Caeli wouldn't be shamed by marrying beneath her."

Rather an ingenious thought, really. Every company officer action of note is recorded with detail; punishments, advancements, retirements, expenditures, and transfers.

"You had no voluntary transfers and all retirees took their conveyance in your region. Nearly all offenses were paid by you with attached reasonable penalties. Your only four floggings each accompanied an involuntary transfer for 'gross cowardice.' Two broke ranks, one beat a horsegirl unprovoked, and one only beat a whore. I would like more detail on how they're all 'gross' cowardice?"

"Ghetun, Weltin, Vourex, and Flinix. The first two broke in their first battle, unable to handle the blood and death. I hated to have them flogged for essentially being constitutionally unfit for battle, but pusillanimity demands harsh punishment in the name of discipline. They're both campfollowers to our regiment now and seem happy. The other two I will not regret." I spat. "They were taken into light cavalry units after, but I hold that beating the defenseless is gross cowardice and I won't keep company with cowards."

"Not disputing that," Yonjax grinned, "In fact, you seemed too perfect by your first sergeant's records, so we inquired up, down, and across your regiment. The biggest problem we found was the wide belief that you might be frigid. Having spent some weeks with you, it kinda still is."

I bristled. Warnings to young pussyhound soldiers aside, we all knew we ought to be hot-blooded. "I'm not."

"But you don't fuck because...?"

"I do."

"Since leaving the Academy, you've had three flings with comrades and no whoring worth mentioning. Nor could we find any servants or townies here or at your aunt's house who'd been with you. Apparently you've shown well in the munera sexus, so it's not a lack of talent or technique. What is it? You 'honestly prefer reading to fucking' as most of your soldiers suggest? Your true love died in battle and you still grieve? You have some weird kink that most women can't handle? Or terrible genital scarring that makes you self-conscious?"

Glad I'd finished my dinner, I took my last sip of my first glass of wine and waved off the watchful servant. "Nothing so very dramatic," I tried to answer honestly, but it's hard to convey the subtleties of my reluctance to take lovers. "I find sex without love dissatisfying emotionally, and only rarely have an 'itch' strong enough to overcome that aversion."

"Now that's fucking adorable."

"And that reaction is why I let people think I prefer books to pussy."

"As a wingwoman, you'd be a nightmare. As a sister-in-law, a big wussy romantic isn't so bad," Yonjax smirked, "If you don't want my sister though or don't want a wife in general, you do have a chance now to claim your caste right and back out. We've agreed that you'd keep your life and your position as a company officer." She took another draught and added casually, "Were Caeli to have not liked you, we'd have forced you to claim your caste right and back out."

"I want her," I affirmed instantly, then puzzled aloud, "She likes me? She's barely met me."

"Yes, but that's no bar to infatuation. She enlisted stablehands tell her whenever you visit your warhorse and then watches you in the yard with a spyglass. Apparently, you're tall, and gallant, and striking, and muscly, and dreamy." Here Yonjax rolled her eyes, clearly not agreeing with her sister's calf-love assessment of me. "Caeli particularly enjoyed the 'masterful' training you gave tonight and seeing you in full armor."

"It gladdens me to learn my betrothed approves of me," I answered with as much formal detachment as I could feign as my heart leapt.

"You don't say?" Yonjax chuckled as I failed to conceal my own calf-love yet again. Her light sarcasm turned to serious menace quickly though, "We do like you personally, Taiglox, and we like you for Caeli. You should know that."

I nodded and remained silent, sure that the vague compliment foreran a darker sentiment.

I was quickly proven right. Her tone and volume never changed, yet ominousness flooded her words.

"Nonetheless, if you misuse her, the story we'll tell - the one that no one will gainsay - is that you died heroically trying to save doomed small children in a house afire," she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows equivically. "Whether we actually burn you after you've been tortured to death or while there's still life in you we'll play by ear, but your casket will be closed."

"I understand." Another death threat. There's something oddly comforting about a straightforward death threat though.

"Good. I'll start chaperoning you two tomorrow. You'll meet us at the East Gardens at 10 bells." Yonjax finished her wine and waved off the next glass as well. "For tonight, since I don't share your romantic inclinations, I believe I'll go have acrobatic loveless sex with a random whore," she smiled, already returned to her openly jovial nature.

I returned to my own rooms as Yonjax left for one of the finer cathouses near the palace.