TO&FQ: Book 1 - Chapter 33 (RAW)

Chapter 33 - The Dowry

“As long as she is wise and good, a girl has sufficient dowry.”

- Plautus.

The warm, rose-scented water swirled around Seraphina as she sank deeper into the marble bath. Soft late afternoon light trickled down from the high window above across the ornate tiles depicting ancient legends, casting a golden glow that danced with the steam rising in delicate tendrils. The air was filled with the gentle aroma of lavender and chamomile, mingling with the rose to create a soothing sanctuary. Ivory columns trimmed with gold leaf adorned with intricate carvings framed the spacious room and a mosaic made from fine tiles adorned the floor.

Washing was taking quite a bit of time, even with Eloise helping to work the dried blood from her short, blonde hair. The girl's nimble fingers moved methodically, yet her excitement was palpable. Eloise bubbled over about the day's events as if they had been lifted straight from a fairy tale. Her laughter echoed softly against the high ceilings, blending with the trickling sound of water.

Eventually, Seraphina had to shoo her out for a bit so she could enjoy a moment of quiet. In her imagination, however, the metallic scent of iron still lingered—a stark reminder of the chaos that had recently unfolded.

As far as Seraphina was concerned, she had met the insult with a fitting punishment. She took satisfaction in her adept use of the laws to reprimand the Crown Prince and his entourage for their audacity. Not even the Royal Guard stood above the laws of the land. The Goddess of Justice, Avaria, would approve, she felt. She had even tempered her judgment with a touch of mercy in the end.

The key for successful people, she mused, was not to try to beat the system already in place. Rather, it was to beat people with the system. Like a club if necessary.

Would her recent actions incur the displeasure of King Elidion? Most assuredly; yet she surmised that much of his ire would be directed toward his son, Vellens, who had failed to secure her hand in marriage. The Royal Family required her—and more pointedly, her prospective heirs—far more than the de Sariens stood in need of them. Of this, she felt quite certain.

After all, her offspring would likely inherit both the Royal and de Sarien estates—a union that many among the nobility opposed. Furthermore, should she meet an untimely end, Vellens would stand to inherit her lands and titles. The prospect of a fatal fall from a window or the stealthy strike of an assassin's blade was hardly one she relished. All this presumed, of course, that her parents did not produce another heir—a possibility that, judging by the lively sounds resonating through the estate, they were earnestly pursuing.

These reflections stirred peculiar emotions within her, and she silently lamented the betrayals of her youthful form. Yet she could not deny the feelings that welled within her or blame them only on hormones. These were affections she might have experienced at any age.

In reflection, she might have elected the simpler course of assisting the Crown Prince, but such a path would have been insufferably dull. No, she preferred to lead the young man by the nose a while longer. Seraphina had discerned genuine desire in his eyes—the kind of passion that could, in a fit of jealousy, launch a thousand ships.

He would, of course, have another opportunity when she journeyed to the capital for her formal introduction to the court. Doubtless, he would seize upon it eagerly. It would be unfortunate for him, however, that by then other suitors would be vying for her favor. His recent missteps would only embolden others to seek her hand. After all, was she not the most eligible young lady in the entire kingdom—indeed, perhaps in all the continent?

The warm water with its performed scent soothed her as she closed her eyes and permitted herself a moment of indulgence. For an instant, she fancied what it might be like to share such a moment with Vellens—his strong arms encircling her, his damp hair falling over those striking grey eyes that held so much turmoil for one so young. Turmoil that she would love to add to. She smiled to herself; perhaps she could teach him a thing or two in more ways than one.

Seraphina shook her head, dispelling the fanciful notion. Rising abruptly, the water cascaded from her form—a silent summons to her maids. The young women, newly arrived from a neighboring village, hastened forward with soft, downy towels to envelop her.

After departing the bath chamber and dismissing the attendants, she encountered Eloise tending to her own long, dark hair. How did she manage to keep it so impeccably maintained, given its length? It was a marvel at times.

"I still cannot believe we saved the Prince!" exclaimed Eloise, her eyes alight with unabated joy. She beamed at Seraphina, a veritable fountain of good cheer. "And that Sir Gallant—was he not dashingly handsome!" she gushed, closing her eyes and shaking her head in delight. "Did you observe how deftly he wielded his sword? So swift and graceful! And that black stallion he rode—like a hero from legend!"

Seraphina decided to indulge her, adopting a wry expression. "Oh, indeed! He certainly knows how to handle a sword. He was not half bad, was he? Much better than that dolt, Vellens!" she giggled. "I mean, Sir Gallant's eyes are like sapphires, his hair so dark and smooth. And those cheekbones!"

Eloise's expression clouded momentarily, like a shadow passing over the sun. "You know, I once held a great fondness for Vellens... but now I find my heart drawn to another so swiftly. Does that make me fickle? Am I so easily swayed?" she asked, her tone tinged with melancholy.

For a moment, Seraphina felt a genuine pang of sympathy for her. She gently patted Eloise's head before lifting her chin to meet her gaze. "You should feel no guilt for liking or loving someone. Such feelings are natural and ought not to bring shame. Is it so wrong for maidens like us to be swept off our feet by a handsome smile?"

The dark-haired girl beamed. "Of course not... and it is good to have options! Besides, Vellens is so... well, he is quite pleasing to the eye. But the way Sir Gallant strode forth to protect me! It was like something from the old tales. And Sir Gallant is just so mysterious and brave. Did you see how he charged to the rescue against those bandits? Striking left and right as if the very god of war Amanos himself!"

"Precisely my thoughts!" Seraphina agreed, laughing. "And let us not forget, Vellens may be a prince, but he still seems a boy. Sir Gallant, however, appears so mature and strong."

This was promising. Very promising indeed. If Eloise was infatuated with someone else, it was most fortuitous. She needed to cultivate this.

Eloise giggled. "And his horse! That magnificent black stallion. Did you see it? I saw one perhaps like it at an auction once... you could buy an entire town for its price!"

Seraphina nearly sighed but maintained her amiable expression. Of course, Eloise, with her humble origins, would be acquainted with attending such events as horse auctions.

"Indeed! Vellens could take a lesson or two from Sir Gallant on making an entrance," Seraphina added with a wink.

They continued to chatter thus, comparing the two men in exaggerated and whimsical terms. Their laughter filled the room, light and carefree. In these unguarded moments, Seraphina felt as though she were truly a young teenage girl again, unencumbered by the burdens of near-constant worry.

*****

The estate had been in an uproar since her return, and she expected a thorough tongue-lashing. The fact that it had not happened yet hung ominously above her like the blade of a guillotine.

And now it was time for dinner.

She waited for the servant to pull out her ornate high-backed chair. Carved from dark wood, it had a plush red velvet seat that was a joy to sit on. The silverware was equally opulent, simple but exquisitely made, and a statement of wealth. Likewise, the crystalware, glasses seemingly as thin as spiderwebs and so clear they appeared almost invisible until filled with fine wine.

At the end of the table, Seraphina's father looked like a storm cloud about to burst. In contrast, her mother resembled a placid sea of calm.

"I hear you girls have had a bit of fun, not to mention you missed Kellan’s training. The man was rather put out about it. That stray you took in took the brunt of his anger. If you wanted a pet, Seraphina, I could have simply gotten you one," her father began gruffly. 

"We went out for a ride," Seraphina answered flatly. "Didn't we, Eloise?"

The doll-like girl suddenly looked nervous as all eyes turned upon her. "Yes, we..." she started to explain.

Thankfully, she was saved. Desmond the butler coughed and Eloise gave him a grateful smile. "The first course is served—crème de poisson as the Lord Duke likes it, minus, of course, the peppers." Somehow, the servant was able to voice his disapproval without crossing the lines of propriety. Her father gave him a forced, thin-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Desmond," her mother said softly, her gaze shifting between Seraphina and her father.

The servants moved with practiced precision, ladling the fragrant soup into bowls as an uneasy stillness descended over the dining hall. The tension was palpable, as though the air itself was holding its breath. Seraphina picked up her spoon, its silver surface reflecting her apprehensive expression. Her father’s stern gaze burned into her, but she focused on the delicate swirl of steam rising from her bowl, the nutty aroma of the broth a fleeting comfort.

"So, Seraphina," her father began, his tone measured, deliberate, "perhaps you can explain why you found it acceptable to miss your training today?"

Seraphina raised the spoon to her lips, savoring a sip of the exquisite soup before replying with calm detachment. "We took a longer ride than usual. The countryside is particularly captivating this time of year."

"Captivating enough to neglect Kellan’s instruction?" he countered, his voice a steady rumble of disapproval. “I believe it was at your insistence that he train you.”

At the far end of the table, Eloise fidgeted with her napkin, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was my suggestion, sir. I insisted Seraphina join me."

The Lord Duke turned his gaze toward Eloise, the sharpness of his expression softening ever so slightly. "Is that so?"

"Indeed," Seraphina added quickly. "Eloise wanted to inspect the condition of the roads. Her father, as you know, is quite proud of his…"

Her father’s eyebrows arched, his voice dropping into a sharper tone. "Oh, the roads, was it? And not, I suppose, to conveniently encounter that Vellens boy?"

Seraphina’s lips curved into a faint smile as she took another sip of soup. "Perhaps we did meet him. Quite by chance, of course."

The soup was as rich as the drama simmering in the room, a creamy blend that sang of the kitchen’s mastery. It would have won a Michelin star in her old world. The subtle blend of flavors momentarily distracted her from her father’s growing ire.

“You know there have been reports of bandits along the border,” he pressed, his voice rising. “With the Empire in chaos, desperate men are crossing over the border and turning to unsavory ways to survive. What if something had happened to you? You know mother’s Sight can’t see everything when she’s... otherwise engaged,” commented the Duke, his face coloring slightly.

Anaselena’s eyes narrowed like a dagger’s edge, her husband’s careless slip sparking a dangerous glint in her gaze. “That’s quite enough, dear,” she said sweetly, her smile razor-sharp as she delivered a well-aimed kick under the table. To his credit, the Duke didn’t even flinch.

“We’d dearly like an explanation, girls,” her mother continued, her tone glacial despite her glowing smile. “If you would be so kind.”

Eloise seized the opportunity, launching into an animated recounting of their day. “It was wonderful! There was this knight—Sir Gallant! And Seraphina was so brave—”

As Eloise prattled on, Seraphina continued to eat, her movements slow and deliberate. Her father’s façade of anger wavered, pride flickering in his eyes despite his attempts to maintain his stern demeanor.

Her mother, however, remained impassive, interrupting only to correct minor details with a cool detachment. Seraphina wasn’t surprised; her mother rarely was.

“That’s all well and good,” Anaselena concluded, her tone light but firm, “and it’s fortunate you’ve begun mastering your Element. It will serve you well at the Academy.”

“The Academy?” Eloise gasped, springing to her feet before sitting back down hastily. “I mean—why?”

“Of course,” her mother said smoothly, “Seraphina will attend. As the future Queen of Aranthia, she must have the finest education. And you, as her lady-in-waiting, will accompany her.”

The Academy. Seraphina suppressed a groan. The venerable institution was lauded as a beacon of learning and refinement, shaping the Kingdom’s future leaders. Politics, economics, history, and mathematics—mundane subjects cloaked in grandeur. It was also, as Seraphina knew all too well, a cesspool of adolescent drama, veiled rivalries, and unspoken rules.

The original Seraphina had struggled within the Academy’s rigid walls. She had not taken well to the learning there. The original had to resort to cheating to save face, leading to humiliation at the hands of the protagonist. But this Seraphina was different. 

Did she not achieve one of the highest CSAT scores in the country? Not only was she already well-learned, she also knew very well how to learn. And learn quickly at that. She wouldn’t just survive the Academy—she’d dominate it.

They say the nail that sticks out gets hammered, she thought, her lips curling into a feral grin. This Seraphina had every intention of being the hammer.

Her mother’s mention of the Academy marked the start of the next arc in her story—a stage brimming with opportunity and peril. Seraphina’s mind raced with possibilities, a plan forming with ruthless clarity. She would destroy Este Liza by making her a friend. And then, when the moment was right, she would crush her completely. All with a smile.

"I trust your man gave this Sir Donahan a proper thrashing," Anatoli remarked as the second course was served.. "And this banditry is troubling. I’ll have to send men to scour the forests. Might have to go myself, of course." His tone was casual, but his eyes gleamed with the unmistakable fire of a man who relished the thought of action

The next dish, a delicate fish layered with a blend of herbs and spices, bathed in a butter and wine sauce, seemed to melt at the slightest touch. The flesh flaked from the bone with such eagerness it almost leapt onto the fork.

"He’s already dead, my dear," Anaselena corrected smoothly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Killed by that yob, Frest."

Anatoli coughed into his fist, recovering quickly. "Quite rightly too. Still, what of Vellens? That boy should have been the one to defend his fiancée. He should have put a stop to all of that. If he can’t manage that, what use is he? It doesn’t sit well with me at all."

"Indeed, dearest heart," Anaselena agreed, her voice carrying a razor-sharp edge. "And there’s the matter of the dowry. The messenger delivered the terms earlier today. They wish us to be generous. Generous to the point of insult."

"This is the first I’m hearing of it." Anatoli leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "How much?"

"It would be crude to discuss numbers at the table," Anaselena replied. Touching her husband's thigh, she leaned closer to whisper almost seductively in her husband’s ear.

Whatever figure she shared was enough to turn his face an alarming shade of red. With a roar, Anatoli slammed his fist onto the table, causing plates and goblets to rattle. Everyone jumped, save Anaselena, who sat back with composed serenity.

"That Japesnake! Elidion should be paying us for the honor of marrying his son to our beautiful daughter," Anatoli fumed, his voice a rumbling storm.

Seraphina kept her gaze demurely lowered, a picture of quiet submission, though her mind churned with indignant thoughts and possible replies to this new piece of information.

"Before any such arrangements," Anaselena interjected, "we must prepare to present you to the court. Once your father ensures the roads are safe, you will make your progress to the capital. The King’s slight cannot go unanswered."

"So soon?" Seraphina asked, keeping her voice light and casual. "Though I can’t say I mind the thought of visiting Aran."

"The capital!" Eloise exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. "This just keeps getting better!"

Anaselena silenced her with a pointed look, raising her wineglass for a delicate sip. "Yes, soon. We must act decisively. The King has made his move, and we cannot be seen as cowards—or worse, rebels. The dowry demand is an insult, an obvious ploy to weaken us. Vellens has failed to uphold his end of the bargain, so we will chart our own course."

Her voice dropped, each word deliberate, laced with cold fury. "No marriage contract has been presented, yet they dare treat us as if we were mere merchants bartering over cattle. I will not have my only daughter bargained for like a fine heifer at market. I will not stand for it. We will not stand for it, isn’t that right, darling?" She cast a sidelong glance at Anatoli, her gaze as sharp as any blade.

The Duke, still seething, nodded. "I have fought and bled Elidion’s throne. I’ll be damned if I let the King or any other scheming little rats treat us so." The Lord Duke’s ire was most certainly up.

Anaselena’s smile returned, as radiant and as dangerous as the dawn before battle. "Good. Let the King try his games. These are now febrile times. We will shift the rules in our favor. And if Elidion thinks he can play with fire, I will ensure he burns—king or not."

Eloise could only look at them all wide-eyed, her mind just starting to process the dangerous events that were unfolding.