“And I’ve a challenge of my own. For if I must prove myself worthy to wed the Narcheska Elliania, who has no prospects of being queen of anything, save that she give her hand to me, then I think she must first prove herself worthy of being a Queen of the Six Duchies.”
Now it was Peottre’s turn to start and then grow pale, for the words were scarcely out of the Prince’s mouth before Elliania replied, “Call me this challenge, then!”
“I shall!” The Prince took a breath. The eyes of the two youngsters were locked. They might have stood in the midst of a desert for all the care they took for the rest of us. The glance between them was not fixed, but alive, as if for the first time they saw one another as they clinched in this battle of wills. “My father, as you may know, was ‘only’ the King-in-Waiting when he embarked on a quest to save the Six Duchies. With little more than his own courage to guide him, he set forth to find the Elderlings that would rise to our aid and end the war your people had forced upon us.” The Prince paused, almost, I think, to see if his words had struck home. Elliania remained icily silent in her stern contemplation of him. He cut on. “When months passed, and no word was heard from him, my mother, who by then was the besieged but rightful Queen of the Six Duchies, set out after him. With but a handful of companions, she sought and found my father, and aided him in waking the dragons of the Six Duchies.” Again, that pause. Again, Elliania refused to put words in it.
“It seems fitting to me, that as she proved herself by joining my father’s quest to wake the dragons, so you should play a similar role in my quest to slay your country’s dragon. Go with me, Narcheska Elliania. Share the hardship and witness the deed you have laid upon me. And if, in truth, there be no dragon to slay, witness that.” Dutiful spun suddenly to the room and shouted, “Let no man here ever say it was the will of the Six Duchies alone that slew Icefyre. Let your narcheska who has commanded this deed see it through beside me.” He turned back to her and his voice dropped to a sugary whisper. “If she dares.”
Her lip curled in disdain. “I dare.”
If she had said more, the words would have gone unheard, for the hall erupted in noise. Peottre stood as pale and still as if he had been turned to ice, but every other Outislander, including Elliania’s father, was pounding on the table. A sudden rhythmic chant in their own tongue burst from them, a song of determination and blood lust more fit to the rowers on a raiding ship than to treaty negotiators in a foreign hall. The lords and ladies of the Six Duchies shouted as they attempted to be heard. The comments seemed to run the gamut from the Narcheska deserving the Prince’s scornful challenge to the view that she had responded bravely and perhaps there was a worthy queen inside the Outislander girl.
Amidst it all, my queen stood still and tall, silently regarding her son. I saw Chade’s mouth move as if he offered some quiet bit of counsel to her. She only sighed. I suspected I knew what he had said. Too late to change it; the Six Duchies must follow through on the Prince’s thrust. To one side of them, Peottre was struggling to mask his deep dismay. And before them, the Prince and the Narcheska still stood, their eyes locked in duel.
The Queen spoke, her voice low, the first words intended only to quell the sound in the hall. “My guests and my lords and ladies. Hear me, please.”
The uproar died slowly, ending with the thumping at the Outislander table that gradually slowed and ceased. Kettricken took a deep breath and I saw resolve firm her features. She turned, not to Arkon Bloodblade and his table, but to where she knew the true power resided now. She looked toward the Narcheska, but I knew her focus was actually on Peottre Blackwater. “It seems we now have a firm agreement. Prince Dutiful is hereby affianced to the Narcheska Elliania Blackwater of the God’s Runes. Providing that Prince Dutiful can bring to her the head of the black dragon Icefyre. And providing that Narcheska Elliania accompany him to witness the doing of this task.”
“BE IT SO!” roared out Arkon Bloodblade, unaware that the decision had never been his to make.
Peottre nodded twice, grave and silent. And to my queen, the Narcheska Elliania turned and lifted her chin. “Be it so,” she agreed quietly, and the deed was done.
“Bring in the food and wine!” the Queen commanded suddenly. It was not at all the proper way the meal should have been commanded, but I suspected she needed to sit down, and that a glass of wine to fortify her would be welcome. I was trembling myself, not just in fear of what must eventually come of this but from the thundering pain that Dutiful had inflicted on me in the course of severing my power over him. The minstrels struck up suddenly at a signal from Chade as the serving folk flooded into the hall. All resumed their seats, even Starling the Minstrel, stepping gracefully from the tabletop into her husband’s waiting arms. He swung her to the floor, infected with the court’s heady elation. It seemed whatever their quarrel had been, it was mended now.