Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 4, 2017 13:56:10 GMT 10
Title: An Equal and Opposite Reaction
Summary: The banquet in Malven sparks a series of actions and reactions in the Conte family. Set during Squire.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: References to treason, the death penalty, ritual suicide, and canon character death.
An Equal and Opposite Reaction
“I’ve drawn up a schedule for Your Highnesses to review of the upcoming banquets in your honor in fiefs Eldorne, Sinthya, Tirragen, and Malven.” Lady Cythera handed a sheaf of parchment with dates, locations, and times written in her elegant script across the low willow table to Roald and Shinko. The three of them were in Shinko’s tent, kneeling on silk cushions as they discussed the next part of the Progress by flickering candlelight.
Shinko kept her face politely empty of emotion as she studied the list of banquets she would be expected to attend with her betrothed. She knew from comments Lady Cythera had made in the past that the hosts were being punished through the power of the purse by being invited—truly ordered—to put on elaborate and expensive festivities in honor of their monarchs.
All the families in question were being punished for the worst crime nobles could commit: treason. The penalties these nobles faced for a family member’s treachery were lenient compared to what would be levied against the extended families of those who betrayed the Emperor in the Yamani Islands. The Emperor wouldn’t hesitate to behead an entire line for one member’s disloyalty. When Shinko’s father had displeased the Emperor, she and her brother had considered themselves smiled upon by Yama for being allowed to live after their parents had been all but commanded to commit ritual suicide—her father by his sword and her mother by poison.
King Jonathan, she thought, was being as merciful as a king could be without condoning treason, but, glancing sideways at her betrothed, she saw that the heir to the throne didn’t appear to agree with her assessment if the faint furrows in his forehead were any indication. Hiding her own confused frown at her prince’s reaction, she supposed it must be a cultural gap she had fallen into where what was acceptable to a Yamani’s collective view of justice was anathema to the more individualized concept of it that prevailed in Tortall. She would defer to her future husband’s understanding of the politics of his own country.
“I will be happy to discuss the schedule with Your Highnesses in greater detail and answer any questions Your Highnesses might have regarding it.” Judging by her words, Lady Cythera might have noticed the disquieted lines on Roald’s face.
Shinko expected Roald to take the opportunity to speak but he seemed to be mulling over what he wished to say or if he wished to speak at all. To buy him more time to contemplate his options and select a strategy, Shinko asked smoothly, “Will you be providing me a list of my seating partners and recommended conversation topics for them as you usually do, my lady?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Lady Cythera assured her, and Shinko felt a surge of appreciation for the social secretary Queen Thayet had assigned her upon her arrival in Tortall. Lady Cythera was smart, sweet, and able to explain in courteous, clever terms anything a stranger might need to know as she made a foreign land her home. “I will provide you with the seating arrangements as soon as Master Oakbridge creates them along with my own notes on suggested conversation topics.”
“Thank you.” Shinko inclined her head graciously. “I appreciate all your efforts on my behalf, Lady Cythera.”
A gentle squeeze on her wrist from Roald told her that she didn’t have to stall Lady Cythera any further, and, an instant later, Roald was arching an eyebrow at Lady Cythera. “May I ask, my lady, why fief Malven is included on this list?”
“Fief Malven has been invited to have the honor of hosting their monarchs to a banquet and has, of course, accepted.” Lady Cythera’s melodic voice was determinedly light and pleasant though her blue eyes were cloudy skies.
“I understand that, Lady Cythera,” replied Roald levelly. “What I’m asking is why Malven was invited to host such a banquet.”
“I just draw up the schedules, Your Highness,” Lady Cythera pointed out. “I don’t send out the invitations.”
“Your husband is Prime Minister.” Roald rolled up his parchment as if he couldn’t bear seeing it any longer. “The invitations wouldn’t have been delivered without his knowledge, my lady, and whatever he is aware of, you are.”
“Speaking in confidence with the understanding that nothing I say goes beyond the three of us”—Lady Cythera waited for Shinko and Roald to nod their assent to this condition before continuing—“I will state that my husband advised Their Majesties against sending this invitation to Malven, but the king was adamant that Malven be made an example.”
“An example of what, my lady?” demanded Roald eyes blazing like the hottest parts of a flame, and Shinko was scorched by the fervor in her always mild-mannered fiancé. “An example of how a noble family can do everything right—disowning a traitor long before he commits his crime and playing no part in his plotting against the Crown—and still be punished? The realm will find that royal vindictiveness edifying, to be sure.”
“Your Highness.” Lady Cythera exhaled gustily. “I know you think His Majesty is being harsh but sometimes kings must be harsh to discourage treason.”
“Yes, but sometimes kings can encourage treason by being too harsh on the wrong people—for instance, those who have no wrong but are punished by the purse.” Roald’s chin lifted, and Shinko could see the king—ruled by justice more than any other—he would be. “Lady Cythera, you admitted yourself that your husband counseled my father against inviting Malven to host a banquet. That means my father isn’t motivated by politics but by a personal vendetta that is interfering with politics.”
“I couldn’t say that, Your Highness.” Lady Cythera shook her head so forcefully that a wisp of blonde hair flew out of the braids twisted into a bun on top of her head. “Nor should you.”
Roald scowled, and Shinko laid a soothing palm on his arm. He took a deep breath, she could feel his temper cooling, and then spoke steadily, “Forgive my outburst, Lady Cythera. Kindly leave us and send in the princess’ ladies.”
As Lady Cythera curtsied and started to withdraw, Shinko added, “Thank you for the schedules, Lady Cythera.”
Lady Cythera curtsied again, and then Shinko and Roald were alone with only the guards stationed at the tent flap for a stolen moment before Yuki and Haname entered.
Taking advantage of every instant of privacy, Roald shot Shinko a sidelong glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m wrong, Shinko.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong, Roald.” Shinko struggled to articulate her feelings. “I just worry that you might be tilting against a windmill.”
“My father the windmill.” Roald’s lips quirked. “There’s a new title for him.”
“I thought we were having a serious conversation.” Shinko’s fingers tightened around the fan in her lap.
“We are.” Roald was all earnestness, and Shinko relented as he poured out all his disapproval of his father’s decision into her attentive ears. “What my father is doing is seriously wrong, Shinko, but he’ll never admit that. He’s not concerned with justice but vengeance. He’s being biased. His favorite Lady Maura of Dunlath goes unscathed though she is the sister of a traitor but the Malven family is targeted although they disowned their traitor before he committed his crime. Other nobles notice, and they whisper that the same rules don’t apply to all nobility, and that the king doesn’t abide by his own rules. His favoritism and vendettas prevent him from being the great king that he dreams of being, but he can’t see that forest for the trees he’s standing in.”
“That’s why you follow even the rules that inconvenience you.” Shinko slid open her fan to shield her mouth so only her betrothed could hear her next words as Yuki and Haname slipped into the tent on soft slippers. “You wouldn’t force Lady Maura to host such a banquet, though.”
“I wouldn’t force anyone to host such a banquet.” Roald reached around her fan to stroke her cheek. “Traitors should be punished but their innocent family members should be integrated into the realm as much as possible and made to feel invested in the country’s future. They will be more loyal to the Crown if they receive mercy, and they will be indebted to the Crown if they know that every good thing they have comes from the throne. Punishing generation after generation just sparks resentment that can fire into revolt. My father is at his best when he remembers that and at his worst when he forgets it.”
“Your father is worried about encouraging others to commit treason if he seems too compassionate to the families of those who have betrayed the kingdom in the past.” Shinko wasn’t contradicting her husband-to-be, just refining his ideas by gently challenging them.
“The penalty for treason is death.” Roald’s eyes were cold as ice, and Shinko didn’t shiver because she knew that Roald would have to be hard sometimes when he was king to keep the land from descending into chaos. “If their heads mean so little to them, let them lose them. On their own heads be it quite literally.”
“I support you.” Shinko folded her palm over Roald’s boarder hand as Lady Haname carried over a tray laden with a steaming pot of green tea, porcelain teacups, and a bowl of sugared almonds, a favorite treat of Roald’s that Shinko kept around her quarters just to watch him light up like a lantern at the simple pleasure. She and Roald thanked Lady Haname, who bowed in the Yamani style and retreated in a swish of kimono and a shuffle of slippers. Once Lady Haname had drifted away, Shinko finished delicately, “Even princes must obey their fathers, however. You must not publicly defy him.”
“I won’t.” Roald threaded his fingers through hers. “I’ll be publicly obedient even if I disagree privately.”
The next morning Shinko and Roald breakfasted with King Jonathan, Queen Thayet, Princess Lianne, and Princess Vania in the king and queen’s tent. Princess Lianne chattered excitedly to a rather bored-looking Princess Vania about the gowns she would wear to the upcoming banquets. Princess Vania, who was in the habit of expressing every stray notion and errant emotion, didn’t make any snide remarks about not caring whether Princess Lianne showed up naked, and Shinko hoped that they might be in for a peaceful morning meal. Her betrothed had different ideas.
“Sire.” Roald’s stiff, formal address expressed his disapproval quite effectively, Shinko thought. “Lady Cythera gave me a list of the planned banquets. Why is Malven hosting one?”
“The same reason anyone else is, son.” King Jonathan paused in spreading jam on his toast to arch his eyebrows at his heir, and Shinko saw from where her betrothed had inherited that particular mannerism.
“Ralon of Malven was disowned before he committed his treason, Your Majesty.” Roald’s fork stabbed at the fruit in his bowl with more force than was strictly necessary.
“The fact that you refer to him as being from Malven says everything, Roald,” countered King Jonathan crisply. “He’s associated with Malven. Therefore, Malven must be punished.”
“The Malven family did everything right by disowning their traitor before said treason even took place and not entangling themselves in his plots.” Roald’s fork was trembling, and he must have noticed it along with Shinko since he rested it along the rim of his bowl, where it stopped shaking once it was out of his hand. “Yet they’re still being punished, which begs the question of who are you really punishing, sire? Not Ralon. He’s dead as a doornail.”
“He’s dead as a doornail, but his family is still alive to pay for his treason.” King Jonathan’s frigid tone frosted Shinko’s spine but Roald seemed undaunted.
“You mean his family’s peasants are still alive to pay for his treason.” Roald’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Shinko’s ached in sympathy. “That’s who will be footing the bill for the banquet, Your Majesty, but Ralon must have been insufferable as a page, so it’s all justice.”
“This is not up for debate, Roald,” snapped King Jonathan, slamming his fist against the table, and Shinko concealed her wince, thinking that she had never heard the king raise his voice to his children before. “You’ll attend the banquet in Malven, and I won’t listen to another word of argument from you about it.”
Before Roald could have answered, King Jonathan stormed out of the tent, but then Shinko imagined that he wouldn’t have expected his soft-spoken son to defy him when he was in a towering temper.
Perhaps Queen Thayet thought differently because she said in a resolutely calm manner as if to inject some sanity back into the proceedings, “You’ll do as your father commands and attend the banquet, Roald.”
“Of course, Mama. It’d be a shame to waste the money of the peasants of Malven by not attending.” Roald massaged his temples as if his argument with his father had wearied him after all. Rising abruptly, he added, “Forgive me for ruining breakfast. Please excuse me.”
“You haven’t even finished your fruit.” Queen Thayet tilted her chin at Roald’s almost full bowl.
“Don’t worry, Mama.” Roald bent to kiss his mother on the cheek, and Shinko, feeling duty-bound to depart with her betrothed and having lost her appetite during the confrontation between Roald and his father, stood and murmured her farewells. “The fruit I had was very satisfying.”
As she and Roald left the tent with his arm supporting hers, Roald whispered in the shell of Shinko’s ear, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you by losing my temper.”
“You didn’t lose your temper.” Shinko shook her head and decided not to mention that she found it disconcerting to hear Roald, who was always so respectful of everyone, addressing his father in a way that the most insolent Yamani child would never have dreamed of for fear of a bamboo cane, but Tortallans tolerated far more independence in their offspring Shinko was learning. “And you never embarrass me, Roald.”
“Arguing with my father didn’t accomplish anything.” Roald bit his lip. “I didn’t even think it was going to, but what’s happening isn’t fair, and I had to say something just so he would know that I noticed the injustice.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Shinko trailed her fingers along Roald’s sleeve. “I understand that you had to tilt against your windmill.”
That need to tilt against his windmill was why Shinko wasn’t surprised a week later at the banquet in Malven when, after the feast finally ended and the dancing began, Roald only guided her through two songs before steering her toward the open doors that led into the gardens. In his understated way, Roald was defying his father by slipping out of the banquet as soon as propriety would permit.
“Your father will be furious,” warned Shinko as they set off down a cobbled pathway between hedges carved into knights and ladies from the courtly love poems popular in Tortall. Roald had chosen to make their escape when King Jonathan was entrenched in conversation with the Prime Minister, but Lady Haname was already a shadow at their heels, chaperoning them, so Shinko realized that it would only be a question of time before their absence was more widely observed.
“We’re just taking a nighttime stroll in the moonlit gardens to get some fresh air.” Roald was the embodiment of wide-eyed innocence. “What could possibly offend him about that?”
“Is that what you plan to tell him?” Shinko elbowed Roald but was grateful for the darkness hiding the hint of a grin on her lips.
“No.” Roald tapped her nose. “I plan to tell him that I was busy falling in love with the woman he bade me marry, so I remain ever his obedient son.”
Before Shinko could devise a witty rejoinder, Lady Haname, curtsying because she was wearing an Eastern style gown, called out, “Well-met, Your Majesty.”
Recognizing this for the alert that it was Shinko and Roald—if his resigned face was any measure—were not shocked when King Jonathan fell into step beside them a moment later.
“What are you doing out here, son?” King Jonathan spoke tersely, but he hadn’t shouted, so Shinko chose to interpret that as an auspicious omen.
“Falling in love. Getting fresh air.” Roald waved. hand at the shrubbery outlining the path. “Watching the plants grow. Take your pick, Papa.”
“I’m not looking for an argument, Roald.” King Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You never are. I never am.” Shinko could hear the tension in her betrothed’s voice and her heart hurt for him. “Why do we ever disagree then, Papa?”
“You’re young. I remember being your age and thinking as you do. You have your own ideas about how things ought to be. You believe you could do a better job running the kingdom than your father.” King Jonathan sighed. “You think you know everything.”
Shinko thought the king might have been describing his younger self but not Roald. Roald was never so arrogant as to believe he knew everything.
“I don’t think I know everything, Papa.” Roald shook his head.
“Good.” King Jonathan clapped Roald on the shoulder. “Because you don’t know everything, son.”
Shinko could feel Roald bristling beside her, and the king, with his hand still on his son’s shoulder must have sensed the same defensive posture forming, because he continued before Roald could protest, “That’s not an insult. It’s just a fact. It’s also a fact that I don’t know everything either. One thing I do know, though, is that there is a hall full of people expecting to dance and mingle with you and Princess Shinkokami tonight.”
“If you’re ordering me back to the banquet, I’ll go, Papa.” Roald would do just that, Shinko knew. He would never defy a direct order from either of his parents even if he might find a way to follow the words while violating the spirt of the command. He could be stubborn but he never flaunted his obstinance.
“I’m not ordering you back, Roald.” The king’s response stunned Shinko, and, if his gaping mouth was any hint, her prince was equally astonished. “Mithros knows, I dread to see what clever way you’d find to resist me if I force you to come back. I’ll allow you to make your own decision but when you do understand that I’m far from the only one with expectations of how you will conduct yourself tonight. You’ve made your discontent clear to me, but you’ll be disappointing more people than just me if you don’t behave properly tonight.”
Roald shot Shinko a look that said more than words ever could have, and she nodded her approval. Once he had her consent, Roald returned his focus to his father, promising him, “We’ll be back in five minutes. We just want a little more air.”
“I look forward to seeing you and Princess Shinkokami again soon.” With a pat on his son’s back and a polite nod to Shinko, King Jonathan disappeared before Shinko could curtsy.
“That wasn’t as bad as I predicted it would be.” Roald emitted a ragged breath as his father left them. “Granted, I was anticipating a classic Conte family fiasco because craziness runs in both sides of my line, so you truly are the only hope any of our future children might have for a sliver of sanity, darling.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Shinko pulled out her fan to cover the laughter in her gaze. “I’m not amused by dramatics.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re marrying into the wrong family, dear.” Roald kissed Shinko’s fingers, and she knew, no matter how he teased her on the contrary, that she was marrying into the right family despite the quirks and the quarrels.
Summary: The banquet in Malven sparks a series of actions and reactions in the Conte family. Set during Squire.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: References to treason, the death penalty, ritual suicide, and canon character death.
An Equal and Opposite Reaction
“I’ve drawn up a schedule for Your Highnesses to review of the upcoming banquets in your honor in fiefs Eldorne, Sinthya, Tirragen, and Malven.” Lady Cythera handed a sheaf of parchment with dates, locations, and times written in her elegant script across the low willow table to Roald and Shinko. The three of them were in Shinko’s tent, kneeling on silk cushions as they discussed the next part of the Progress by flickering candlelight.
Shinko kept her face politely empty of emotion as she studied the list of banquets she would be expected to attend with her betrothed. She knew from comments Lady Cythera had made in the past that the hosts were being punished through the power of the purse by being invited—truly ordered—to put on elaborate and expensive festivities in honor of their monarchs.
All the families in question were being punished for the worst crime nobles could commit: treason. The penalties these nobles faced for a family member’s treachery were lenient compared to what would be levied against the extended families of those who betrayed the Emperor in the Yamani Islands. The Emperor wouldn’t hesitate to behead an entire line for one member’s disloyalty. When Shinko’s father had displeased the Emperor, she and her brother had considered themselves smiled upon by Yama for being allowed to live after their parents had been all but commanded to commit ritual suicide—her father by his sword and her mother by poison.
King Jonathan, she thought, was being as merciful as a king could be without condoning treason, but, glancing sideways at her betrothed, she saw that the heir to the throne didn’t appear to agree with her assessment if the faint furrows in his forehead were any indication. Hiding her own confused frown at her prince’s reaction, she supposed it must be a cultural gap she had fallen into where what was acceptable to a Yamani’s collective view of justice was anathema to the more individualized concept of it that prevailed in Tortall. She would defer to her future husband’s understanding of the politics of his own country.
“I will be happy to discuss the schedule with Your Highnesses in greater detail and answer any questions Your Highnesses might have regarding it.” Judging by her words, Lady Cythera might have noticed the disquieted lines on Roald’s face.
Shinko expected Roald to take the opportunity to speak but he seemed to be mulling over what he wished to say or if he wished to speak at all. To buy him more time to contemplate his options and select a strategy, Shinko asked smoothly, “Will you be providing me a list of my seating partners and recommended conversation topics for them as you usually do, my lady?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Lady Cythera assured her, and Shinko felt a surge of appreciation for the social secretary Queen Thayet had assigned her upon her arrival in Tortall. Lady Cythera was smart, sweet, and able to explain in courteous, clever terms anything a stranger might need to know as she made a foreign land her home. “I will provide you with the seating arrangements as soon as Master Oakbridge creates them along with my own notes on suggested conversation topics.”
“Thank you.” Shinko inclined her head graciously. “I appreciate all your efforts on my behalf, Lady Cythera.”
A gentle squeeze on her wrist from Roald told her that she didn’t have to stall Lady Cythera any further, and, an instant later, Roald was arching an eyebrow at Lady Cythera. “May I ask, my lady, why fief Malven is included on this list?”
“Fief Malven has been invited to have the honor of hosting their monarchs to a banquet and has, of course, accepted.” Lady Cythera’s melodic voice was determinedly light and pleasant though her blue eyes were cloudy skies.
“I understand that, Lady Cythera,” replied Roald levelly. “What I’m asking is why Malven was invited to host such a banquet.”
“I just draw up the schedules, Your Highness,” Lady Cythera pointed out. “I don’t send out the invitations.”
“Your husband is Prime Minister.” Roald rolled up his parchment as if he couldn’t bear seeing it any longer. “The invitations wouldn’t have been delivered without his knowledge, my lady, and whatever he is aware of, you are.”
“Speaking in confidence with the understanding that nothing I say goes beyond the three of us”—Lady Cythera waited for Shinko and Roald to nod their assent to this condition before continuing—“I will state that my husband advised Their Majesties against sending this invitation to Malven, but the king was adamant that Malven be made an example.”
“An example of what, my lady?” demanded Roald eyes blazing like the hottest parts of a flame, and Shinko was scorched by the fervor in her always mild-mannered fiancé. “An example of how a noble family can do everything right—disowning a traitor long before he commits his crime and playing no part in his plotting against the Crown—and still be punished? The realm will find that royal vindictiveness edifying, to be sure.”
“Your Highness.” Lady Cythera exhaled gustily. “I know you think His Majesty is being harsh but sometimes kings must be harsh to discourage treason.”
“Yes, but sometimes kings can encourage treason by being too harsh on the wrong people—for instance, those who have no wrong but are punished by the purse.” Roald’s chin lifted, and Shinko could see the king—ruled by justice more than any other—he would be. “Lady Cythera, you admitted yourself that your husband counseled my father against inviting Malven to host a banquet. That means my father isn’t motivated by politics but by a personal vendetta that is interfering with politics.”
“I couldn’t say that, Your Highness.” Lady Cythera shook her head so forcefully that a wisp of blonde hair flew out of the braids twisted into a bun on top of her head. “Nor should you.”
Roald scowled, and Shinko laid a soothing palm on his arm. He took a deep breath, she could feel his temper cooling, and then spoke steadily, “Forgive my outburst, Lady Cythera. Kindly leave us and send in the princess’ ladies.”
As Lady Cythera curtsied and started to withdraw, Shinko added, “Thank you for the schedules, Lady Cythera.”
Lady Cythera curtsied again, and then Shinko and Roald were alone with only the guards stationed at the tent flap for a stolen moment before Yuki and Haname entered.
Taking advantage of every instant of privacy, Roald shot Shinko a sidelong glance. “I hope you don’t think I’m wrong, Shinko.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong, Roald.” Shinko struggled to articulate her feelings. “I just worry that you might be tilting against a windmill.”
“My father the windmill.” Roald’s lips quirked. “There’s a new title for him.”
“I thought we were having a serious conversation.” Shinko’s fingers tightened around the fan in her lap.
“We are.” Roald was all earnestness, and Shinko relented as he poured out all his disapproval of his father’s decision into her attentive ears. “What my father is doing is seriously wrong, Shinko, but he’ll never admit that. He’s not concerned with justice but vengeance. He’s being biased. His favorite Lady Maura of Dunlath goes unscathed though she is the sister of a traitor but the Malven family is targeted although they disowned their traitor before he committed his crime. Other nobles notice, and they whisper that the same rules don’t apply to all nobility, and that the king doesn’t abide by his own rules. His favoritism and vendettas prevent him from being the great king that he dreams of being, but he can’t see that forest for the trees he’s standing in.”
“That’s why you follow even the rules that inconvenience you.” Shinko slid open her fan to shield her mouth so only her betrothed could hear her next words as Yuki and Haname slipped into the tent on soft slippers. “You wouldn’t force Lady Maura to host such a banquet, though.”
“I wouldn’t force anyone to host such a banquet.” Roald reached around her fan to stroke her cheek. “Traitors should be punished but their innocent family members should be integrated into the realm as much as possible and made to feel invested in the country’s future. They will be more loyal to the Crown if they receive mercy, and they will be indebted to the Crown if they know that every good thing they have comes from the throne. Punishing generation after generation just sparks resentment that can fire into revolt. My father is at his best when he remembers that and at his worst when he forgets it.”
“Your father is worried about encouraging others to commit treason if he seems too compassionate to the families of those who have betrayed the kingdom in the past.” Shinko wasn’t contradicting her husband-to-be, just refining his ideas by gently challenging them.
“The penalty for treason is death.” Roald’s eyes were cold as ice, and Shinko didn’t shiver because she knew that Roald would have to be hard sometimes when he was king to keep the land from descending into chaos. “If their heads mean so little to them, let them lose them. On their own heads be it quite literally.”
“I support you.” Shinko folded her palm over Roald’s boarder hand as Lady Haname carried over a tray laden with a steaming pot of green tea, porcelain teacups, and a bowl of sugared almonds, a favorite treat of Roald’s that Shinko kept around her quarters just to watch him light up like a lantern at the simple pleasure. She and Roald thanked Lady Haname, who bowed in the Yamani style and retreated in a swish of kimono and a shuffle of slippers. Once Lady Haname had drifted away, Shinko finished delicately, “Even princes must obey their fathers, however. You must not publicly defy him.”
“I won’t.” Roald threaded his fingers through hers. “I’ll be publicly obedient even if I disagree privately.”
The next morning Shinko and Roald breakfasted with King Jonathan, Queen Thayet, Princess Lianne, and Princess Vania in the king and queen’s tent. Princess Lianne chattered excitedly to a rather bored-looking Princess Vania about the gowns she would wear to the upcoming banquets. Princess Vania, who was in the habit of expressing every stray notion and errant emotion, didn’t make any snide remarks about not caring whether Princess Lianne showed up naked, and Shinko hoped that they might be in for a peaceful morning meal. Her betrothed had different ideas.
“Sire.” Roald’s stiff, formal address expressed his disapproval quite effectively, Shinko thought. “Lady Cythera gave me a list of the planned banquets. Why is Malven hosting one?”
“The same reason anyone else is, son.” King Jonathan paused in spreading jam on his toast to arch his eyebrows at his heir, and Shinko saw from where her betrothed had inherited that particular mannerism.
“Ralon of Malven was disowned before he committed his treason, Your Majesty.” Roald’s fork stabbed at the fruit in his bowl with more force than was strictly necessary.
“The fact that you refer to him as being from Malven says everything, Roald,” countered King Jonathan crisply. “He’s associated with Malven. Therefore, Malven must be punished.”
“The Malven family did everything right by disowning their traitor before said treason even took place and not entangling themselves in his plots.” Roald’s fork was trembling, and he must have noticed it along with Shinko since he rested it along the rim of his bowl, where it stopped shaking once it was out of his hand. “Yet they’re still being punished, which begs the question of who are you really punishing, sire? Not Ralon. He’s dead as a doornail.”
“He’s dead as a doornail, but his family is still alive to pay for his treason.” King Jonathan’s frigid tone frosted Shinko’s spine but Roald seemed undaunted.
“You mean his family’s peasants are still alive to pay for his treason.” Roald’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Shinko’s ached in sympathy. “That’s who will be footing the bill for the banquet, Your Majesty, but Ralon must have been insufferable as a page, so it’s all justice.”
“This is not up for debate, Roald,” snapped King Jonathan, slamming his fist against the table, and Shinko concealed her wince, thinking that she had never heard the king raise his voice to his children before. “You’ll attend the banquet in Malven, and I won’t listen to another word of argument from you about it.”
Before Roald could have answered, King Jonathan stormed out of the tent, but then Shinko imagined that he wouldn’t have expected his soft-spoken son to defy him when he was in a towering temper.
Perhaps Queen Thayet thought differently because she said in a resolutely calm manner as if to inject some sanity back into the proceedings, “You’ll do as your father commands and attend the banquet, Roald.”
“Of course, Mama. It’d be a shame to waste the money of the peasants of Malven by not attending.” Roald massaged his temples as if his argument with his father had wearied him after all. Rising abruptly, he added, “Forgive me for ruining breakfast. Please excuse me.”
“You haven’t even finished your fruit.” Queen Thayet tilted her chin at Roald’s almost full bowl.
“Don’t worry, Mama.” Roald bent to kiss his mother on the cheek, and Shinko, feeling duty-bound to depart with her betrothed and having lost her appetite during the confrontation between Roald and his father, stood and murmured her farewells. “The fruit I had was very satisfying.”
As she and Roald left the tent with his arm supporting hers, Roald whispered in the shell of Shinko’s ear, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you by losing my temper.”
“You didn’t lose your temper.” Shinko shook her head and decided not to mention that she found it disconcerting to hear Roald, who was always so respectful of everyone, addressing his father in a way that the most insolent Yamani child would never have dreamed of for fear of a bamboo cane, but Tortallans tolerated far more independence in their offspring Shinko was learning. “And you never embarrass me, Roald.”
“Arguing with my father didn’t accomplish anything.” Roald bit his lip. “I didn’t even think it was going to, but what’s happening isn’t fair, and I had to say something just so he would know that I noticed the injustice.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Shinko trailed her fingers along Roald’s sleeve. “I understand that you had to tilt against your windmill.”
That need to tilt against his windmill was why Shinko wasn’t surprised a week later at the banquet in Malven when, after the feast finally ended and the dancing began, Roald only guided her through two songs before steering her toward the open doors that led into the gardens. In his understated way, Roald was defying his father by slipping out of the banquet as soon as propriety would permit.
“Your father will be furious,” warned Shinko as they set off down a cobbled pathway between hedges carved into knights and ladies from the courtly love poems popular in Tortall. Roald had chosen to make their escape when King Jonathan was entrenched in conversation with the Prime Minister, but Lady Haname was already a shadow at their heels, chaperoning them, so Shinko realized that it would only be a question of time before their absence was more widely observed.
“We’re just taking a nighttime stroll in the moonlit gardens to get some fresh air.” Roald was the embodiment of wide-eyed innocence. “What could possibly offend him about that?”
“Is that what you plan to tell him?” Shinko elbowed Roald but was grateful for the darkness hiding the hint of a grin on her lips.
“No.” Roald tapped her nose. “I plan to tell him that I was busy falling in love with the woman he bade me marry, so I remain ever his obedient son.”
Before Shinko could devise a witty rejoinder, Lady Haname, curtsying because she was wearing an Eastern style gown, called out, “Well-met, Your Majesty.”
Recognizing this for the alert that it was Shinko and Roald—if his resigned face was any measure—were not shocked when King Jonathan fell into step beside them a moment later.
“What are you doing out here, son?” King Jonathan spoke tersely, but he hadn’t shouted, so Shinko chose to interpret that as an auspicious omen.
“Falling in love. Getting fresh air.” Roald waved. hand at the shrubbery outlining the path. “Watching the plants grow. Take your pick, Papa.”
“I’m not looking for an argument, Roald.” King Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You never are. I never am.” Shinko could hear the tension in her betrothed’s voice and her heart hurt for him. “Why do we ever disagree then, Papa?”
“You’re young. I remember being your age and thinking as you do. You have your own ideas about how things ought to be. You believe you could do a better job running the kingdom than your father.” King Jonathan sighed. “You think you know everything.”
Shinko thought the king might have been describing his younger self but not Roald. Roald was never so arrogant as to believe he knew everything.
“I don’t think I know everything, Papa.” Roald shook his head.
“Good.” King Jonathan clapped Roald on the shoulder. “Because you don’t know everything, son.”
Shinko could feel Roald bristling beside her, and the king, with his hand still on his son’s shoulder must have sensed the same defensive posture forming, because he continued before Roald could protest, “That’s not an insult. It’s just a fact. It’s also a fact that I don’t know everything either. One thing I do know, though, is that there is a hall full of people expecting to dance and mingle with you and Princess Shinkokami tonight.”
“If you’re ordering me back to the banquet, I’ll go, Papa.” Roald would do just that, Shinko knew. He would never defy a direct order from either of his parents even if he might find a way to follow the words while violating the spirt of the command. He could be stubborn but he never flaunted his obstinance.
“I’m not ordering you back, Roald.” The king’s response stunned Shinko, and, if his gaping mouth was any hint, her prince was equally astonished. “Mithros knows, I dread to see what clever way you’d find to resist me if I force you to come back. I’ll allow you to make your own decision but when you do understand that I’m far from the only one with expectations of how you will conduct yourself tonight. You’ve made your discontent clear to me, but you’ll be disappointing more people than just me if you don’t behave properly tonight.”
Roald shot Shinko a look that said more than words ever could have, and she nodded her approval. Once he had her consent, Roald returned his focus to his father, promising him, “We’ll be back in five minutes. We just want a little more air.”
“I look forward to seeing you and Princess Shinkokami again soon.” With a pat on his son’s back and a polite nod to Shinko, King Jonathan disappeared before Shinko could curtsy.
“That wasn’t as bad as I predicted it would be.” Roald emitted a ragged breath as his father left them. “Granted, I was anticipating a classic Conte family fiasco because craziness runs in both sides of my line, so you truly are the only hope any of our future children might have for a sliver of sanity, darling.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Shinko pulled out her fan to cover the laughter in her gaze. “I’m not amused by dramatics.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re marrying into the wrong family, dear.” Roald kissed Shinko’s fingers, and she knew, no matter how he teased her on the contrary, that she was marrying into the right family despite the quirks and the quarrels.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!