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When the Medes were defeated, Eddis and Attolia had at least briefly been of one accord. It had been a shared victory, a shared triumph, and for a short period the smiles they offered each other were genuine.
But it did not last, it could not last through negotiations. There had been too much already said and done for that, too many deaths at both of their hands. Politically they both required peace, but on a personal level the smiles and laughter had faded quickly, replaced by sharp looks and sharper thoughts.
In public they were bound to be polite – if acidly so. These were peace negotiations as much as they were wedding negotiations, and so they were full of ministers and careful words, and things seemed to move forward at a rate of maybe an inch for every hour that passed.
Politeness and careful words, however, only bound what they said and how they behaved. They were both queens, Eddis and Attolia, and used to that. There was nothing to stop Eddis from looking at Attolia and seeing the woman who had coolly ordered the hand of her beloved younger cousin cut off. No doubt Attolia looked back and saw the woman who would, given the choice, have seen her entire country destroyed under her and damn the cost. Eddis hoped she did, hoped that the reminder of what Eddis was capable of would keep Gen safe within her court if nothing else did. Perhaps even after the negotiations were over with she would lie awake at night, dreading what would occur should Gen ever be unfortunate enough to fall to a mere accident. Things had surely gone far enough for her to remember that the moment Eddis heard of his death she would be there at the gate, even if both their countries were to fall as a result.
Queens shouldn’t be allowed such personal feelings. Queens should stifle them, think first of political wisdom and repercussions, and only then allow themselves personal reactions. But even queens were people, and given the choice Eddis would happily have seen the woman she was negotiating with dead before she ever allowed Gen near her again. If it weren’t for Sounis, and the Mede, threatening Eddis even as Eddis threatened Attolia….
But no, she corrected that thought quickly. If it weren’t for Gen -- Gen laughing and joking and never at all serious, until suddenly he was deadly serious and asking his queen’s permission to marry her deadly enemy – this would all have ended in ashes and smoke and destruction.
At last someone was merciful enough to call a break to the endless discussion.The room of advisors and ministers filtered out, and Eddis reflected that it would take very little for it to still end in ashes and smoke and destruction. It just might take slightly longer. Left alone, other than the guards – even a queen could not be trusted to resist an assassination attempt in person if the circumstances were right – the two queens avoided each other’s eyes. For several minutes, the silence stretched painfully.
“I don’t know why or how you are keeping him so set on this,” Eddis said finally, when it became clear that no-one was going to kindly reappear and give them an excuse to continue ignoring each other. “But there will be Eddisians in your court, and if I hear that there has been any kind of harm done to him – and I understand how frequently ‘accidents’ can happen when one has a mind to look away....”
For a moment the other woman looked startled before a practiced mask slid into place, covering that emotion quickly. “I assumed he had initiated the agreement under your orders,” she said coolly, the hint of bitterness in her voice not disguised quite well enough. “Certainly he seemed to have very little interest in giving me another option.”
Eddis restrained herself from an unqueenly snort. “Gen is not the type of person to listen to orders, even had I been so inclined,” she commented. “Which I was not.”
“I think I’m beginning to learn that.” Had it been a different person, a different situation, in front of her, Eddis might have laughed. If you were only learning how Gen operated just before you actually married him… well, that would certainly be an experience.
“Had I been inclined to give orders – had he been the type to listen to orders - the order I would have given would have been to stay as far away from your court as possible.”
“That… would seem wise,” Attolia agreed, the same carefully neutral tone in her voice that had persisted throughout the negotiations.
“I try not to sacrifice family members on a whim,” she said, watching Attolia’s face now for any flicker of emotion. “And I take it very personally when they are harmed.”
“I’ve noticed,” Attolia said flatly, and Eddis thought – hoped – she remembered flooded fields, starving people and raiding parties. “Though if you wish them to remain unharmed, you might do better than to send them to spy on other people’s courts.”
It was an excuse, and it needled at her. “There are agreed ways to deal with spies,” she said sharply.
“I know.” Eddis had expected an argument, but Attolia just took that quietly without offering a defence. Perhaps she too had begun to regret her actions.
Still, Eddis couldn’t resist pushing it a little further. “You cut off his hand,” she said, and was glad of it. It broke all rules of politeness and etiquette, but Attolia needed to know that ishe was neither forgiven nor forgotten, and never would be.
“I know.” Attolia did not drop her head into her hands – too well-trained for that, thought Eddis – but her voice said she wanted to.
“He nearly lost his sight,” Eddis went on remorselessly. “And we almost lost him to a fever in those first few weeks. You had the right to hang him – we would have been able to raise no argument with you over that. But what you did—"
“What I did reminded my court – and Sounis’ – that I am not a mere woman inclined towards mercy and heldmy barons under control a little longer when I was already in danger of losing it,” Attolia said quietly. “You had overstepped. It had become too likely that Sounis would follow your precedent – and Sounis executes his own advisors for the most minor disagreements. A mere hanging would have done little towards dissuading him. Your reaction was… a by-product.”
“A dangerous by-product.”
“In retrospect, yes,” Attolia admitted. “But at the time, it seemed the safest of multiple bad choices.” She paused and raised her chin, meeting Eddis’ gaze without flinching. “And still he swears he wants to marry me.” It was a statement and not a question, but there was bewilderment edging it nonetheless.
“Yes,” Eddis agreed, and sighed. “But if you’re looking for the source of that eagerness, you’ll not find it here.”
“The boy is mad,” Attolia said, and that was heartfelt, more genuine than Eddis had thought the other queen capable of.
“The man,” Eddis stressed the correction, “is a Queen’s Thief. Often it comes to the same thing.”
“And you are here to agree intricacies and contracts, and to tell me with your eyes that should he come to harm in my court you would see me nailed upside down on my own walls.” It seemed that Attolia too could be blunt when the situation called for it.
“More or less,” Eddis admitted. “Do you intend to allow that he should be harmed?” Sometimes it was easier to ask directly.
“Any attack on the King would be viewed as an attack on my court and on myself,” Attolia said flatly. “I would see the perpetrator flayed and my court knows it.” She held up a hand in warning, perhaps feeling that reassurance went too far. “But... I cannot swear that every member of my court is loyal to me, and the Medes executed several who were. Unless and until he became a threat to me, he would be as safe as I could make him.” Which was no guarantee that he would be safe at all.
Her words could be viewed as more genuine than a thousand assurances that never a hair on Gen’s head should suffer harm, but still Eddis sighed. “Then you shall have to excuse me, but I shall continue to counsel him against marriage.”
“As shall I.” The two queens looked at each other, still not quite trusting each other but in agreement on this at least.
“The treaty can be arranged without a marriage to seal it,” Eddis said, with a firmness that she hoped would make it true. “To go ahead with this would be… madness.”
“Insanity,” Attolia agreed. “If for no other reason than that no-one could protect him forever. Sooner or later when he came to harm it would almost guarantee war.”
“And Gen is not good at avoiding coming to harm,” Eddis agreed, and paused. “Although,” she added thoughtfully, “he is very good at getting his own way when he’s decided that it’s important to him.”
“It’s not that important to him,” Attolia said, her voice cool, but this time when Eddis looked at her she turned her face away. “He’s a boy. Mooncalf love. Discourage him enough and he’ll find someone pretty his own age to adore.”
“No doubt.” Eddis thought of Agape, clearly a far more suitable wife for her young cousin, and yet still she could not imagine how she was going to suggest this to Gen. “I’ll talk him out of it,” she said aloud, with far more certainty than she felt. As the official break ended and advisors began to file back in, she found that she was unable to convince even herself that this wedding could be stopped – whatever Eddis and Attolia might think on the matter.