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LADY ILYNE OF FANOST

Lady Ilyne is shown into Prince Rafus’s private chambers by a page dressed in the Azurian colours of gold and green.

She sniffs to see the parlour. Although it is exactly what she expected. Azuria for all its wealth is so ugly, so gaudy. They say the Hevelikar were more refined. Ilyne has seen the Ivory Palace and it is rather beautiful, although sadly it is situated in the unpleasantly frigid climate of Ceruleum.

The considerably more vulgar Rose Palace was built from the ruins of the Rose Temple when Sarelik Darek razed it after taking power two hundred years ago. That fact alone — Ilyne thinks with a sniff — tells one all they ever need to know about the wretchedness of the Darek line. Razing a temple to build a palace. Quite the statement. Although, if one makes such a statement, one ought to take care what one is actually saying.

The parlour she steps into is dripping gilt, every flat surface embellished, every piece of fabric embroidered with birds and fruit in glittering colours. There is no place for the eye to rest, it is simply dreadful.

And, to make things worse, rising from one of the silken settles to greet her is not Prince Rafus, but a woman with short dark hair and a plain, shapeless gown of black wool.

Zai, preserve me.

“Princess Karo,” Ilyne says, dropping a deep curtsey with all the decorum that has been trained into her since birth.

Karo smiles. “Lady Ilyne. How delightful to finally get to meet you. Can I offer you something to drink? Peach wine perhaps. Fanosti wines are very popular at court now that they are available again.” She glances at the page who nods and leaves, presumably to get the wine.

“I was expecting to see Prince Rafus,” Ilyne says, glancing around the parlour. As if a man so exuberant would somehow be hidden behind a gilded screen.

“You will. I think.” Karo retakes her place on the settle, gesturing for Ilyne to sit on the matching one opposite.

Ilyne frowns, but does so. She has not met Karo before but she has heard that she is strange. “Is he here? I was promised an audience with him.” When Karo says nothing to this, Ilyne adds, “I am the daughter of the Duke of Fanost. I was betrothed to Emperor Markus.” As if Karo might somehow be lacking this well-known information.

“Oh, yes. I know. I’m sorry about what has happened.”

“And there was a betrothal agreement, signed by my father, so it's all very unfortunate.” As she speaks the page returns, setting down a tray holding a glass decanter of golden liquid and two small cups on the table between them. When he leaves, Ilyne says, voice lowered but tone still firm, “There is a need for compensations.”

“So is that why you are here,” Karo says smoothly, “to ask the Rose Court to compensate you?” She lifts the decanter in a pale hand and pours the peach wine into the cups. She wears no jewellery at all, not even a single ring.

As far as Ilyne knows Karo is an Azurian. The daughter of some small house on the Ismagaari borders. Betrothed to Rafus as a child as part of some treaty or other. Done when his status was far less important than it is now.

“By rights I ought to be wed to Emperor Selim before he ascends.” Ilyne speaks a little too sharply, betraying her tart thoughts, then checks herself. Hadn’t her father said not to get carried away? The law is on their side. She has every right to demand appeasement and every reason to expect to be appeased. The relationship between Azuria and Fanost is strained, still not recovered from Emperor Erond closing the roads between the two lands during the plague. Fanost is the bread basket of the Azurian Empire. Men in Attar still do not have enough to eat. The murderous riot during the Feast of Flames will not be the last if things do not improve. There should be no need to make demands and threats.

However this is the Azurian Empire. Fairness and justice are not something that should ever be expected from this den of snakes. And she is very clearly being insulted here having been given an audience with Karo and not Rafus. She does not know how diplomatic she can be. Azuria must make amends to Fanost. She takes up a cup and sips her wine. It’s as good as any peach wine she’s had in Naranda.

“The situation with Selim is delicate,” Karo says. As if Selim’s refusal to wed and bear children when he has taken his exiled brother’s throne was a simple matter. But Selim’s refusal is certainly advantageous for Karo. She is the wife of the Crown Prince and the heir presumptive. She will be Empress herself one day if Selim sires no children of his own. Strange to think Karo has such a position, when Ilyne, the daughter and only living child of the Duke of Fanost, now has none at all.

“I hear he is…” Ilyne stops. Dare she? She takes another sip of wine and says in a low tone, “insane.”

Karo betrays nothing. Is she shocked by this or amused? Ilyne cannot tell. “Where did you hear that?” she says coolly.

“I forget,” Ilyne says. “A scurrilous rumour I am sure. Of course he is simply devout. A great boon for the Empire to have an Emperor so pious.”

There is a pause. An unnerving pause during which Karo stares at Ilyne in a manner Ilyne considers rude and unpleasant. In Fanost many people consider Karo to be a witch. Of course, that’s just the type of lazy rumour that is started about any woman who looks as Karo does and acts as Karo does, but it is certainly true that Karo is barren. She has given Rafus no children. His legitimate son and daughter were both birthed by his second wife, Ullinor. Perhaps she is cursed. The parlour is very quiet until Karo says, “You did not come here for compensation. For a bag of gold and the promise of some high born lord as husband.” She shakes her head as if the very idea is amusing. “You came here to attempt to bed Selim. I hear you requested a private audience with him.”

Ilyne feels her jaw tighten. She swallows a sour taste in her mouth. “That would be against the Book of the Rules.”

“Yes. A great sin for you both. And according to the Book of the Rules that sin could only be atoned for by Selim taking you as bride. He would never agree to that under any other circumstances due to his vows to Zai, but if you could seduce him, he would have no other choice. It would solve your problem of a broken betrothal simply, however I’m sure you have discovered that it will not be possible to seduce him. Your request for an audience was refused. Selim will not have a private audience with a woman.” She smiles as if this is some secret knowledge she is imparting. “And when you were refused, you requested an audience with my husband instead. Perhaps your plan now is to seduce Rafus, bear his child and then insist that Doroth Zain should grant him leave to take a third wife so your child is not tainted by the stain of bastardy.” Karo looks at Ilyne across the table. Ilyne notices that although Karo poured out two cups of wine, she has not drunk a single golden drop herself.

Ilyne takes a breath and says, as lightly as she can, “You accuse me of quite a scheme. I assure you I simply wish to discuss the situation between Azuria and Fanost.”

“Really? With Rafus? Surely for the wranglings over your betrothal agreement you would want to talk with Chancellor Vindar, or even with Doroth Zain. Prince Rafus has no head for politics, I can assure you.”

“He is Crown Prince.”

“He is indeed. And he already has two wives and has acknowledged three bastard sons without marrying their mothers.”