Chapter 31 Catty Courtesans
Fiona
The women’s parlor is smaller than the banquet hall back home. It’s warm, perfumed with pine oil. Heavy tapestries hang on the walls. They look ancient, like they have been there for ages and never retouched by another weaver. The colors are dulled, but I can make out the depictions of hunts and battles. They might have once looked grand.
I walk across the room with Liora and sweep my gaze across the women inside. None of them looks over or greets us. They chatter over each other in high, false voices, laughing at things that aren’t funny, and one of them looks like she’s presiding over the whole spectacle.
The woman with pale blonde hair and blue eyes like Lucian glances up at me and then at Liora with something mean gleaming in her eyes. When she turns that gaze on me, I cock an eyebrow. She’s making no effort to hide her hostility. She sets her jaw and looks me over, looking as though she’d like to claw my dress to pieces.
I almost wish she would. It’s been too long since I’ve been in a fight, but it looks like I could blow in her direction and she would fall over. We take a seat, me first, and then Liora. Whoever she is, she looks like she just sucked on a lemon when we do. The attendant in the room makes no move to serve us as if we’re unwelcome. I scan the others, noting the way they eye us both. There’s something snide in their glances at Liora and disapproving when they look at me.
Who do any of these wenches think they are?
“Not much to look at,” one of them says. “I was under the impression she’d be some great beauty.”
I glance at Liora. She’s quiet, her eyes are hard, and she looks on the verge of bursting into a rage.
“Come now, Liora,” the blonde purrs. “Always so dour, can’t you at least smile. This is meant to be a ladies’ tea.”
“Is she really much of a lady?”
They burst into laughter, and Liora says nothing, taking deep meditative breaths. I lean toward her, ignoring the rest as though they’re not even there.
“How long must we stay?” I ask. “My intellect is drying out by the moment.”
Her eyes widen as she looks at me. The chatter on the other side of the room ends.
“Alpha King Varek… didn’t say.”
I sigh. “So little by way of planning. Is he always so short-sighted?”
“You can’t speak of him that way,” the blonde hissed. “Alpha King Varek—”
“But I suppose day-to-day survival doesn’t lend itself to long-term thinking. Much too complicated for him, I imagine,” I say and shrug. “Let’s not speak of him. How about we pick up our conversation from before?”
Liora frowns. “What?”
“You said that Caldara doesn’t waste resources on vanity.” I gesture to the ladies on the other side. “That doesn’t seem exactly true. So what is it really? Do you not like embroidery all that much?”
She blinks at me. Her gaze darts to the other side of the room. “I… Well…”
“Style? Color?” I ask and scan her. “You don’t look armored now, but are you?”
She shakes her head. “I… don’t tend to.”
“Shame,” I say. “Back home, I have a set of armor, a cast chest plate and all, that I wore with my gowns for formal dinners. It’s customary that generals of certain skill wear armor for formal events. My father and his advisors hated it, but they couldn’t stop me. Given Caldara’s emphasis on warriors, I figure something like that may be more your style.”
A few of the women titter, exchanging glances, one of them drawling, “Armor at a banquet? It seems like His Majesty is going to have a much harder time marrying her off than he thinks.”
“Not so hard as her, I’m sure,” I say. Liora laughs, higher and lighter than I expect. She looks much younger, less severe. “But if not armor, and you say you don’t have anything, what do you wear for formal gatherings? Don’t you have banquets?”
Liora shrugs. “Not particularly. I wear whatever I have.”
I look around the room again. “Is that customary? From the way you and Varek interact, I thought you were a noble.”
One of them laughs nervously. “Liora doesn’t need it. She’s a warrior—”
“A warrior in Caldara is a defender and a provider, the way I see it,” I cut in sharply, and the laughter dies. “Without them, Caldara starves. It’s appalling to think that Caldara will waste resources on the vanity of some, but won’t spare a bolt of fabric for a warrior.”
Liora shakes her head. “It’s different. The king is my cousin. The courtesans have more… use for him.”
Someone sputters, but I don’t even glance over.
My eyes bulge in horror. “Your cousin?”
Liora nods. “It’s—”
“Your own cousin, your commander, puts the comforts of useless, hungry mouths over you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “All that talk about warriors in Caldara, and this is how he treats his own blood?” I scoff. “I’m beginning to wonder if my whole purpose here is to lure suitors for his courtesans.”
The silence is thick enough to choke on. The blonde opens her mouth to speak, but I don’t let her.
“So what is it?” I gesture to them. “Who sleeps with Varek the most frequently?” I look at the blonde. “Not you, the hem of your gown isn’t very well maintained…” I look at the brunette to her right, and I grimace. “Unlikely.” I scoff at the one sitting across from her. “Laughable.”
They look more and more appalled as I cast my gaze over them.
“I suppose his favorite is one he doesn’t bother to subject to your catty behavior. I wonder if she’s as ridiculous to be around.” I glance over at the attendant. “And is it customary for a servant to refuse to serve the relative of the king, or are you that comfortable with disrespecting Lady Liora?” I look at Liora. “Is your cousin that sort of man? No books? No dresses? No respect either? Are you his only cousin, or are you simply the last one standing?”
Liora’s lips twitch. “The latter.”
“Where are the others?”
“One other,” Liora says. “She left Caldara to live with her mate. She almost never visits.”
“With treatment like this, I can’t imagine why she would ever visit.”
Liora drops her gaze, and her expression softens with so much affection it makes my heart swell and my eyes burn with tears..
“She’s my younger sister.”
My heart aches as I think of my own sister and Mira as well. “I can imagine how hard the distance must be for you.”
Especially since Liora had only just recently left Caldara for the first time.
Liora shrugs. “It is what His Majesty commanded.”
I set my jaw. “It’s not a comfort to know that he is an asshole to even his own family… Do you write to her?”
She clenches her hands in her skirts, and I think back to an earlier conversation about books.
“Paper is a waste,” she says, clearing her throat. “And travel is tough.”
Liora keeps her gaze away from mine, her expression filled with a barely suppressed pain. Slowly, it drains from her face, leaving a placid calm behind. She looks unbothered, but her hands are white-knuckled in her lap.
My blood boils watching her suppress her feelings about the separation from her sister and what I can only assume is the inability to communicate with her outside of the infrequent returns. The noblewomen retreat into stilted chatter, not speaking to either of us. The silence stretches. I don’t even glance at the attendant. I’ll eat later, as I’m sure Liora will, too.
Instead, I take a deep breath of my own and almost laugh at how easy it is to let my anger flare back to life. These courtesans are all probably Varek’s playthings, or playthings of Ronan and Lucian, maybe even their relatives.
I turn my attention to the far wall and up to the small gap between the stones at the top and the ceiling. I can hear muffled voices from the next parlor. I focus, straining my hearing, letting this room drift away to try to hear what they’re talking about.
“…salt,” the king of Hyath says. “And a tithe of grain each year of their marriage. I’ll double it if she produces a son.”
I just bet he would double it after everything he’s done trying to secure a son. I wait, listening for Varek’s response. Is salt and some grain enough for him to sell me? It would tell me how desperate Caldara is if so.
“That’s a good start,” Varek says, his voice almost too soft to hear. He says something after that, but I can’t make it out.
“You mock me, boy.” The king of Hyath hisses. “You have no grounds to request such a thing.”
“You have mocked me, riding here before dawn and expecting me to simply take your offer. Do you think I’m that desperate?”