Interlude: Blue
“Mother, must you go?”
Duchess Arina Kapel looked down at her son, standing in the doorway with his nanny hovering just behind. She held a brave face behind the veil she’d taken to wearing. He’d seen already—of course she’d shown him. But right now, he needn’t see the conflict in her eyes. Certainty, surety—be strong, Arina.
“I must,” she replied in a well-practiced tone. Authoritative, but gentle enough to tell her son she wasn’t scolding him.
“I don’t think you should go, Mother.”
I don’t want you to go, Arina thought, but she knew he couldn’t say it like that.
“My presence is vital,” she replied evenly. Were any others to question her as such with no argument, she’d likely not deign to reply. Her son, however, had a right to know what was causing his mother to leave their estate so suddenly in the dead of an increasingly dangerous winter. “Should I send a representative, it would be seen as conciliatory at best. I will not allow the crown to force Gedon into war again.” She paused, then added, “the captain of the city guard will be with me—as will our knights.”
“That’s not it…”
She walked over to her son, leaned down, and pulled him into an embrace. “I’m sorry, dear, but I must do this.”
He responded by bursting into tears. She rarely left the estate; she’d come back changed amid rumors of her death, and now she was leaving again. “My poor child,” she whispered.
When her son eventually calmed down, she helped the nanny put him back to bed. And soon, with her bags packed behind her, the duchess found herself sitting in front of a mirror, with the early morning light just starting to peek through the drapes.
Skin of awful, bluish pallor faced her, along with small horns that pushed aside her well-coiffed hair. The physicians she’d spoken to—both of them, in fact—had argued against filing them down completely, citing risk of infection.
And so she was left thankful for winter fashion hats combined with dense theater powders and creams. She’d even been learning to apply them herself, should such a need arise. And right now her hand reached for the pot, but she stayed it.
In fact, she wasn’t even certain it would be best to try to hide in the king’s presence. Rumor had spread already she was harmed by demonic poison, and that had been the cause of an appearance change that greatly diminished her public appearances.
At the same time… she slipped familiar gloves on and sagged in relief. Without a mirror in the carriage, she could be reasonably certain she would not have to face her own appearance.
A duchess should use all means available to her for the gain of household and family.
An ancient lesson that had taken on a distinctly different meaning after her husband’s passing.
She packed the creams and powders anyway. Until a true solution could be found, perhaps one magical in nature, she would endure as she always had these past few years. Perhaps Zarenna could help her? At the very least, should she attend this summit, it would be one more ally the duchess could count on—and she’d need all those she could get.
King Carvalon would jump at the chance for full independence, perhaps heedless to the human cost. And with Duke Ludwig Reynard’s hatred for the Church, he would most likely side against them, perhaps forgoing his well-crafted reputation as a leader of the people to push for war.
The third ducal family was more of a wild card. They had an aging, ailing duke, and a younger brother ready to challenge the named heir. Being the furthest west amongst the Edathan duchies, on the mountains separating the kingdom from the dwarves of Daram, they had suffered least in the war. Perhaps she should side with the pretender, should he advocate against a war his brother was likely to champion.
Much to think about on a long ride south.
Bags packed and mind roaming, Duchess Arina Kapel left the warmth of her estate for the waiting carriage. Outside, breath misting the biting air, she bid Guard Captain Kerra a good morning and was soon off for Linthel.
By any means, she thought. I cannot let there be another war.