Cornerstone (2 page)

“
Have you had word of Father?” she asked. Unsure if she should move in and take a place at the table, she hovered near the door.

It occurred to her that she'd forgotten her courtesies, so she turned, averted her eyes demurely, and made a slight nod and curtsy to the men still standing around the table. While most in Eltar didn't observe the old customs in casual passing any longer, they were still used on formal occasions. Raising her eyes, she shared an embarrassed smile. The tension in the room dissipated a little, freeing her to turn her attention back to Reeve as the others took their seats.

Reeve shook his head. “Not of father, no. But we have had news.”

Disappointment pressed hard on Emariya's shoulders as Reeve continued, “Thandrel's Fjord has fallen. What’s worse: word from the traders is that several ships have set out from Sheas Harbor. Not one, sister—several.”

Emariya didn't understand what he was trying to imply. She decided her best course of action was to appear knowledgeable while knowing nothing. “Yes, My Lord.” There, that would do to prompt him further without making either of them look like fools in front of the other Councilors.

With the tone one would use when instructing a child, he explained, “Now that they have taken the fjord, they have a relatively secure position from which to advance. Not only does that close off a large section of the Borderlands to us, it means that they can come up through the forest. They can also utilize the river to advance either on us or on Thalmas. Or they can come at us straight-on. It furthermore deprives us of a good vantage point to monitor their ships. Without that knowledge, we won't know how reinforced they are.”

Emariya had listened closely, although his condescending tone begged her to ignore him. “How can their ships land at the fjord? I thought the Feltons held our only passable port?” Leland Felton, who was sitting at the Council table, nodded, his bearded smile of approval intensifying the wrinkles under his eyes. Her question seemed to please him. The waters around the coastal regions of Eltar and Thalmas were rough and rocky, making passage a dangerous gamble. Such a gamble, in fact, that neither land maintained a fleet. Even before The Split, the trade ships from Sheas had rarely come so far up the coast, except the occasional late summer voyage before the waters churned with the wrath of winter. Still, the Feltons maintained the old port near their estate to ensure that the seagoing land of Sheas didn't make an unwelcome call.

“
There is a small dock there. From before…when we used to trade openly with Sheas. Thandrel's Fjord is low enough on the coast to be protected from the winds that make most of our coast so treacherous.” Reeve's impatience seeped through his forced indulgence in her effort to understand. He likely hadn't counted on Emariya's questions and wanted to get right to his point.

“
Before Mother died, you mean.” Emariya bit her lip as thoughts of her mother surfaced. Emariya would give anything to be able to remember her mother.

“
You are the living image of her, child,” Lord Felton said from his seat at the table. “I remember that day like yesterday, when she stood in this same hall and pleaded her case to this Council for peace.”

The Roths had commanded Sheas for many years. During a time when the fishing was less plentiful and the people were hungry, the Roth's daughter, Valencia, secretly tried to broker an alliance of Sheas and Eltar. She reached Eltar and pleaded her case before the Great Council. Sitting at the head of the Council, Oren Warren was taken by her bravery and her beauty and fell madly in love with her almost immediately. They married that spring, and the Great Council of Eltar and the Roths of Sheas declared each other neutral. Though they were not quite allies, they agreed to stop all sanctioned attacks against each other and peaceably share the hunting in the Borderlands. The shaky peace between the two lands was shattered when Valencia was found with a dagger in her heart.

Emariya brought her attention back to her brother, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of taking offense at his haughty tone.

Reeve was still explaining how Sheas might make use of the fjord. “They will have to land one vessel at a time, but they can land there. And if they do, the fjord may not be the only part of Eltar to fall.”

“
How much time do we have?” No amount of time would be enough.

“
Not enough,” Reeve echoed her thoughts. “But we may have an option.” The Councilors were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. They weren't the only ones who were uncomfortable.

“
Thalmas has started to press us in the Uplands. Bands of raiders have been pillaging the more northern estates and the individual homesteads there for their food stores. If we were able to divert attention from the skirmishes in the north, we might have a chance to take back the fjord or at least keep Sheas from advancing. Especially if we were reinforced with weapons from Thalmas,” he added. Unlike its neighbors, Thalmas was starved for food. Its harsh, rocky landscape grew almost nothing. While rich in minerals and iron, which sold for a premium, its citizens were almost completely dependent upon what could be hunted and scavenged from the Borderlands, plus a few species of rock-hardy animals, like wild boars, for food.

Reeve took a deep breath, glancing behind him at the members of the Council before continuing, “I've had a letter from Prince Ahlen.”

Unlike the Council based rule of Eltar, Thalmas was ruled by a royal family. King Dellas Ahlen's family had ruled with a firm hand for many generations.

Surprised, Emariya looked at her brother curiously. She couldn't figure out why his blue eyes were silently pleading with her. “I thought we didn't allow any envoys from Thalmas or Sheas?”

“
This came by pigeon. We are surely not at risk of assassination by paper cut, are we, dear sister?” Reeve smiled. Behind him, the Councilors chuckled.

A tiny smile slipped onto Emariya's lips. Reeve had always been able to tease her like no one else. “I suppose not,” she conceded.

As if he had suddenly noticed she was still standing near the door, he took her by the hand. Against her better judgment, Emariya allowed him to herd her further into the room. Moving casually, he shut the door behind her before taking his place at the head of the table, leaving her to stand alone before the eyes of all the Council.

“
Emariya, the prince has requested your hand in marriage.”

CHAPTER TWO

If Wishes Were Realities No Man Would Want

“
Has it been agreed?” Jaryl asked him.

He placed the letter on the desk, adding it to the ever-growing pile. He shook his head. “I've not yet heard.”

Jaryl made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. His dark hair parted over his oily forehead like the forked tongue of a snake poised to attack. “The wedding must take place if there is to be any chance of you succeeding, Milord.” He folded his gnarled limbs in front of his chest as he leaned against the desk.

“
Don't you think I know that!” His chair scraped in protest as he shoved it backwards. He rose from the chair and crossed the room to peer out of the tiny window in his study. Without this crucial union, the rest of his plan was lost. Everything indicated it would take all three bloodlines. And she was the only one capable of adding the final piece. When he had first learned of the lore of the Stones, he'd known that it would hinge on her. For so long he had been holding onto his hate, dreaming of what it would be like to show them that he was no longer a powerless little boy. He would crush all those who had doubted him, all those who had caused not only him, but also his people, to suffer.

He peered at the other man thoughtfully. He wondered if Jaryl realized how idiotic he looked when he grinned for seemingly no reason, showing his numerous missing teeth. Jaryl was a former prisoner. Luckily for Jaryl, he had been brought before him with another prisoner who aspired to much higher ambitions. Jaryl's companion had offered up information he knew would secure his pardon. He had been right. Together, the three of them had been plotting for months. It just went to show that nearly anyone could be useful, if one were willing to look beyond what was expected and see the potential. Those who were used to being cast aside as useless were exceptionally moldable. And loyal. And now, finally, the plan was about to move forward. If only it didn't all hinge on one headstrong girl! “Perhaps you should call me 'Your Grace'. After all, soon I will be King of The Three Corners.”

Jaryl snorted. “Not even King of one, and now claiming King of all three? Well, none ever said you weren't ambitious.”

“
We all know who has led since my father became...unavailable, regardless of titles, now don't we?” He said darkly. “All I need is to bind the lines, and the power of the Stones will be mine.”

“
Of course.” Jaryl paused, and then added, “Your Grace.”

“
The Council has already agreed, so now we just need the cooperation of our little soon-to-be Princess.”

Jaryl scoffed. “Pfft, these women, with their notions o’ 'right' and 'love'. Don't matter whether they be serving wench, harlot, or Queen; they can all be taught t’ obey if you're o' mind to teach ‘em. An' besides, they're like dogs. Happiest when they knows who their master is. Then they don't have t’ trouble themselves over foolish notions o' wants and wishes and are content with what is. Kinda a kindness, if one thinks about it.” He smacked his hands together in illustration of his point and grinned that same idiotic grin.

Turning from the window, he regarded the Jaryl quietly for a moment. “You might be right. Perhaps she does need a little motivation.” Sitting back at his desk and taking up his quill, he dismissed Jaryl with a simple, “Leave me.”
It’s not just women who are like dogs
, he thought.

***

A timid knock tapped at the door to her chamber. Hastily trying to clear the tears from her eyes, Emariya crossed the room and slid the iron bolt to the side. Pulling the heavy door inward, she ushered Jessa inside. The door slammed shut with a resounding
thud
, shutting out the rest of the estate once more. Emariya shoved the bolt back into place. She was tempted to see how long she could manage to hide in here, away from the realities of what her brother had proposed.

“
Oh, Riya,” Jessa said, putting her arms around Emariya. “It will all work out; it must.”

“
Did you hear? Did you hear what that…that bastard expects me to do?!” Even Emariya herself was a bit surprised by the vehemence in her voice. “‘Marry him,’ he says, as if it were nothing at all. ‘Marry him.’ Marry him? I don't even know him!” She'd managed to keep her calm earlier in front of the Council. She had enough practice from accompanying her father on Council business to manage to keep her face dignified, if not quite impassive.

After her brother's surprising announcement, Lord Felton had risen from the Council table. “My dear, I wish your father could see the young woman you have blossomed into. I know he would be proud. And if he were here, he would give you his blessing. We know this is a lot to ask, and if we could see any other way, we wouldn't suggest this. Making an ally of Thalmas, who for so long has been our enemy—it's quite distasteful,” he had said, wrinkling his nose beneath his spectacles. It wasn't lost on Emariya that he found the alliance more distasteful than asking a seventeen year old girl to marry someone she had never so much as met, or sending said seventeen year old girl to live in the land he so abhorred. Distasteful indeed.

Next, Old Man Bosch had turned to the Councilor seated beside him and said in an exaggerated whisper, “Does she realize that Torian is the Prince? Why, when Dellas dies, she'll be Queen.” Old Man Bosch was nearing seventy, and at that moment, he was showing every bit of his age. His simple statement, as if she weren't even there, was made even more amusing by the way his wiry white hair stuck straight out from his scalp, wiggling as he nodded his head, agreeing with himself. “Yes yes, to think, a queen!”

“
I heard. I think all of Warren's Rest has heard. It was all over the square when I went down to fetch the corn Mama wanted for supper.” Jessa told her.

Emariya sighed. “What are they saying?” One of the pitfalls of living so clustered together was that news spread fast.

Emariya let Jessa guide her to the gilded dressing table. She ran her fingers lightly over the familiar scrolled pattern that bordered the small drawer. In that drawer were the few things she had of her mother's. The first was a delicate oval locket, adorned with a little silver ship that her mother wore on her journey from Sheas. Inside the locket was a faded sketch of a woman with a familiar smile on her face. Her father once told her he believed that the woman in the picture was her grandmother.

Next to the locket sat a pewter hair comb. It was the most lavish thing Emariya had ever seen. The comb was inlaid with a breathtaking row of pearls, each one framed by diamonds, top and bottom. In the center sat a large sapphire as blue as the sea. She had always imagined herself wearing the comb on her wedding day.

The third and final thing in the drawer was a brush. Its ornate carved handle showcased a fish entwined around a fern. Emariya loved the soft boar’s hair bristles. Her father had carved it for her mother as a wedding present. Emariya tried to hold her head still as Jessa's skilled fingers deftly undid the plaits that held her hair in a sort of tidy mess. She started to relax a little, but only a little, as the brush glided soothingly through her hair, guided by Jessa's hand.