Two Months Prior
Aelfric waited patiently in the quiet study, his hands folded behind his back. Inevitably, his eyes were drawn to the portrait that hung prominently over the fireplace.
Conri, first king of Prystir.
I wonder, my old friend, what you would think of the state of things, he thought pensively as he looked at the painting. What we tried to do. What we failed to do. Has anything really changed? Is there any way out, at this late date?
But the first king was long dead, and silent.
He was still lost in thought when the door to the study opened with a soft sound.
A young lady crossed the threshold of the room on dainty, satin-slippered feet. She wore an exquisitely tailored dress with bell sleeves and a long cloak trimmed with ermine. The train of the cloak was embroidered with the crest of the royal family of Prystir, the rearing unicorn.
If her beautiful dress and finely trimmed cloak had not given away her rank, then the tiara she wore on her royal head would have certainly. Her corn-silk blonde hair was elaborately braided and studded with jeweled hairpins that had been fashioned to look like flowers. She had a regal bearing, and even at fourteen she was considered a great beauty: the pearl of Prystir.
She was followed closely by a retinue of guards, maids of honor, and inevitably, the prime minister.
The guards had opened the doors for her, but upon crossing into the room, she turned to those following her and said, “That will be all. We shall call you again when we have need of you.”
“Majesty—” began the prime minster in protest, his eyes flicking to where Aelfric still stood silently. “At least allow one of your maids—”
“We refuse,” the young lady said with some force. “We do not require a chaperone when speaking with the councillor. He is the most loyal subject that Prystir has. You are dismissed, minister. We will not require your services for the remainder of the day.”
“Majesty, there is a meeting of the privy council, a briefing about the state of the southern border with General Cross, and an evaluation of potential court appointments all scheduled for this afternoon—” the minister lectured sternly.
But the young lady was resolute.
“You are dismissed,” she declared, throwing out her arm.
The prime minister’s expression was grim, and he cast one final disapproving look at Aelfric to fully communicate his feelings on the matter, then bowed and backed away from the study door. The guards closed it, and then there was the soft sound of footsteps on the thick carpet of the hall as they retreated.
Once they were gone and the young lady was quite sure they were out of earshot, she promptly locked the door with a jeweled key from her person, and she launched herself at Aelfric.
Fortunately, he had enough experience with her to expect this, and caught her even as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rubbed her cheek against his middle.
“Ahhhh, now I can finally recharge my energy,” she said, her voice muffled by his clothing.
He made a nonverbal noise, a soft sigh of exasperation.
“Arcady, you shouldn’t antagonize Minister Morrow,” he pointed out. “We are not in a position where we can afford division in the court.”
Freawaru Brighid Rozenn Arcadiana I, the princess-king of Prystir, puffed out her cheeks in an inspired pout, and simply hugged Aelfric tighter.
“He doesn’t respect you like he ought to,” she complained, grumbling. “How dare he suggest that we require a chaperone just to speak to you! Dealing with the rules of the court is exhausting,” she complained. “One of your most important duties is healing our royal heart! And take off that mask so we can see your handsome face! We demand it!”
Aelfric made another nonverbal noise and unfastened the mask he wore in the palace during his role as the shadow councillor. He set it aside on the nearby desk. Only the reigning monarch was ever allowed to see his face.
That was, perhaps, why he often had difficult relationships with prime ministers. It was challenging for a person to put their trust in someone whose face they never saw. Still, the mask was necessary, and by this point, it had become almost theatrical, part of the traditional matter of Prystir, a symbol of the royal family and the reigning dynasty.
“You cannot simply abandon your duties and play all afternoon,” Aelfric pointed out to the young lady. “I am sorry that these responsibilities have fallen on your shoulders so early. I wish I could change that, but I cannot.”
The regret in his voice was honest, but he had allowed the young lady to hear it because he understood her personality, and knew it would have an effect.
“Ahhhh, it’s not your fault!” she hastily denied, squeezing him furiously. “I can do it! You can depend on me!” she insisted, slipping out of her formal way of speaking. “I promise to go do my work after this, just please, pat my head like you always do. Everything is just so hard.”
Arcady’s distress was real, but much the same as Aelfric had known how she would react when he expressed his regrets, she knew that showing her exhaustion to him would rouse his sympathy. This was how the two of them had engaged with one another from the time that she had been a very little princess, toddling around the palace.
Aelfric sighed again and patiently removed the ribbons and pins that kept her royal tiara on her head and set it carefully down on the desk behind him, next to the mask of the councillor.
And then he patted her head the way he always did.
Arcady’s soul animal was a small and lively golden blonde cocker spaniel, and when Aelfric petted her head, one could almost see the furiously wagging tail that indicated her absolute bliss. She also had the appeal of the pretty little pup, with large, soulful eyes that she had often used to get her way as a little girl.