Orthallen moved on to some dispute between the Guilds of the Mercers and the Weavers while Selenay’s thoughts were elsewhere. She quickly brought her own attention to bear on the situation; it would not be a good idea to undo all of Orthallen’s work by seeming to be lost in other thoughts. She did notice that several of the Councilors actually waited to hear her opinion before voicing theirs, which was a pleasant change. The rest of the meeting proceeded in the same atmosphere, and if she felt a momentary resentment that she’d had to get Orthallen’s “approval” before being granted the respect she was due, at least now she had that respect. And though it might be temporary, having gotten it once, it would be easier to regain it.
But once the meeting was over, as she and she and her escort of Guards and ladies wound their way back to her quarters, she allowed her thoughts to tend in other directions. Orthallen’s comment about foreign princes—that struck a chord, and told her that that was what had been nagging at her all this time, since the Councilor had first voiced that idea over dinner.
What foreign princes? Certainly there had been no hints of such a possibility before now. No envoys had presented themselves, no inquiries had been voiced via ambassadors.
But perhaps they had all been waiting until her year of mourning was over. That would only be appropriate, really.
Assuming there are such mythical creatures, she told herself, as she entered the door to her suite, and the Guards took up their stations outside.
But they might not be mythical—
Surely, though, if there were such young men wandering about unpartnered, she would be aware of them. Granted, her knowledge of highborn families outside of Valdemar was sketchy to say the least, but the only royal that she knew of was the King of Hardorn, and he had married an allegedly lissome young creature out of his own Court a little more than a year ago.
But would Orthallen have mentioned the possibility twice if it didn’t exist?
So just what foreign princes were there, out there? She dismissed her ladies, and selected a gown to be worn at dinner while her maids drew a hot bath.
Did the Shin’a’in have princes? She couldn’t remember anything of the sort. :Caryo, is there such a thing as a Shin’a’in prince?:
:I’ve never heard of one.: Caryo sounded surprised. :I think they don’t have things like Kings and Princes. I think they are an alliance of Clans.:
That tallied with the little that Selenay recalled, but perhaps some of the Clans were big enough that their Chiefs would qualify as princes. There were a great many Shin’a’in after all. It was an—interesting possibility.
She stepped into the bath that had been prepared for her, and chased the maids away while she soaked. As she relaxed in the hot lavender-scented water, she had a silly little vision of a strong, wild warrior, raven hair down to his waist, riding into Haven dressed in black furs and leathers, astride—bareback, of course—a horse as black as his hair. And wouldn’t that make a pretty picture, the two of them riding together, she all in Whites on Caryo, he on his midnight steed. . . .
She gave herself a mental shake. Ridiculous, of course; what Shin’a’in nomad would ever leave the Plains, much less do so with the intention of marrying a foreign, civilized queen? Besides, even if he came here looking for her, he wouldn’t stay. The Shin’a’in never stayed away from the Plains for long, and she could scarcely leave Valdemar. What would the Shin’a’in get out of such a marriage, anyway? Valdemar was too far from the Plains for there to be any advantage in an alliance at all. No, no, no—too easy to burst that particular bubble of illusion.
But who else did that leave? Rethwellan? Were there unmarried princes in Rethwellan? If there were, well, they at least shared a border with Valdemar, and it would be an advantage to them to have such an alliance, if only for trade advantages. Menmellith? Menmellith was a principality of Rethwellan, but she couldn’t really recall anything at all about their ruling family. Not Karse, of course—
Could there be interest as far away as Jkatha or Ceejay, which were just names on a map to her? Surely not; Valdemar didn’t even trade directly that far away, so why would any stray princeling come wandering up here?
But there might be places she had never heard of. To the North—well, Iftel was out of the question; no one ever came past their borders except a few favored traders who were remarkably close-mouthed about the place.
The bath was cooling; time to finish and get out, before someone came in here to scrub her. Stupid; she’d bathed herself for the last fourteen years and more, so what was it about being a Queen that rendered her incapable of bathing herself now?
But the splashing as she emerged from the bath seemed to be some sort of signal that caused maids to swarm around her with towels and robes and scents and lotions. And for once, involved in her own thoughts, she let them fuss over her.
Once she was properly clothed in a lounging robe, they messed about with her hair while she continued her ruminations. North, other than Iftel, were the barbarians above the Forest of Sorrows. Surely not. Surely not. The idea of a greasy, violent, fur-clad brute was even more repulsive than some of the octogenarians the Council had suggested.
Were there little secretive kingdoms out in the West, in the Pelagiris Forest or past it? It was possible. There were certainly people out there, and not just the half-mythical Hawkbrothers. There were entire villages that looked to the Hawkbrothers for protection, so maybe there were Kingdoms in the West. But still—what possible advantage could they have in an alliance with Valdemar? Nothing that she could imagine.
Or were there men in other Kingdoms who were like the Great Dukes of Valdemar, who held enough power that they qualified as princes? There might well be; she hadn’t had time to study such things. In such a case, for a younger son, there would be a great deal of prestige and advantage in marrying a Queen, even if it left the young man as nothing more than a Consort without ruling powers. His children would rule, if they were Chosen, and that might be enough. Separate trade agreements could be made with the family, and that might be enough. There was a great deal of difference between royal marrying royal, and royal stooping to wed a rank below hers. In that case, the advantages to be gained were almost all on the side of the lower rank.
:Surely there’s something in the archives of letters from ambassadors and trade envoys,: Caryo said helpfully. :Or Seneschal’s Herald Kyril will know where to look. I should think that someone would know if we might expect a spate of foreign suitors.:
A foreign prince—or more than one—the idea gave her a kind of fluttery feeling of excitement inside. Oh, they might well all be as impossible or even repulsive as the candidates she’d been presented with so far, but—at least they would be someone different.
And surely one would be older than an adolescent and younger than a graybeard. Maybe even handsome—though she wouldn’t necessarily care, as long as he wasn’t a monster. Someone she didn’t know, that she couldn’t predict, someone with entirely new ways and manners—Even if she didn’t want to marry him, it would be interesting to have him in her Court.