Valdemar 06 - [Exile 02] - Exile’s Valor Read Free Page A

her Councilors were determined that she should not reign alone—and each and every one of them had a particular candidate to place in the running, sometimes more than one. All of them, of course, with the best interests of the Kingdom foremost in their minds, or so, at least, they would tell themselves. Of course, every candidate would have blood ties or ties of obligation to the Councilor who put him forward, but never mind that. They would put such things out of their minds, telling themselves that they were doing this for Valdemar, and not for any selfish reasons. There was no Heir! Selenay had been an only child, and the Crown now rested on her fragile head alone! She must marry, and produce children, quickly!
    Of course, if the chosen spouse happened to be helpful to friends and families, well. . . .
    Every one of them had given over whatever disputes they had to settle on that list of potential Consorts, arguing and trading without any consideration for what she wanted, until they had mutually agreed on enough men that if they couldn’t bully her into taking one, they could wear her down until she agreed out of exhaustion.
    When Talamir told her what the plans were, Selenay had gone straight to Herald-Chronicler-Second Myste, who was surely the only person in Haven who had the esoteric knowledge to help her out of the trap. And although she had not really expected a great deal of sympathy from Myste, the Herald had amazed her by reacting with indignation to the plans.
    â€œBy Keronos!” Myste had exclaimed, her eyes behind the thick lenses of her spectacles going narrow with speculation. “That’s obscene! You haven’t been Queen a year, girl! Shouldn’t they at least wait until you’ve settled, and gotten comfortable with your place?”
    â€œApparently not,” Selenay had replied, seething with anger. “And apparently none of them want to see a foreigner brought in as Consort either—or at least, they don’t seem to have taken much thought about that particular possibility. Insane, I’d call it. Not that I particularly want a foreign Consort, but Father used to have serious talks with me about the possibility of needing to cement a foreign alliance with a marriage.”
    â€œIdiots,” Myste had muttered under her breath, pushing her lenses up on her nose. “The hand of a Queen’s too damned valuable to waste. What if, as your father said, we need an alliance?”
    â€œWhat if we just need to keep five or six princes dangling on promises?” Selenay had countered. “And besides—”
    She didn’t add the “besides,” which was that she wanted to be able to love her husband, not merely tolerate being in the same room with him. Myste probably guessed it, for she’d given Selenay a shrewd look, but she hadn’t said anything, except: “Well, if they haven’t got the sense to see past their own interests, it’s up to some of the rest of us to see to it that they can’t meddle.”
    And Myste had outdone herself on the Queen’s behalf, spending every spare moment locked away with dusty law and record books going back generations. The result was the pile of neatly written papers under Selenay’s hand.
    Aside from the two exceptions of Talamir and Elcarth, there wasn’t a single person around the Council table that had the slightest inkling that they were about to see what Selenay could do when she was not in a mood of sweet cooperation. In point of fact, no matter who was brought up, the various candidates for potential spouse were going to be mown down like so many stands of ripened grain. . . .
    Myste had not even told Alberich; she had sworn herself to secrecy before Selenay had even asked. There was no tighter-lipped creature in Valdemar than Myste when she opted to take that particular path.
    It’s too bad Alberich isn’t here, Selenay thought, still tapping. He might enjoy