Vallerian smirked as he eyed the startled Khazimi priest. Well, Khazimi knight now it seemed. What an odd thought that. As the ceremony came to an end, curious lords and ladies descended upon their small group like hungry wolves, and Vallerian took the moment to slip away to the edge of the room. Today he was not interested in playing the part of prey. His childhood had seen him play that game far too often in his measure.

Still, leaning on one of those gaudy gold inlaid pillars, Vallerian watched as Gardinal fielded a dozen curious courtiers. The first Khazimi in Terminian history to be given a title, albeit a lowly knight, but still a rather momentous event. Though unlike Gardinal, Vallerian had no illusions as to why the king had bestowed such generous gifts. A brilliantly tactical move, exactly what one should expect from a king.

As for Vallerian’s own gift, well after nearly dying perhaps some time riding among the plains of Northshore would be quite pleasant. He just hoped the property he was given was nowhere near that of his father. Growing up visiting that cold North Shore estate in the summers, its proximity to Southshore had always seemed funny to Vallerian. A humorous thought that the place of respite for the lords and ladies of the city was a short boat ride across that filth stain of a river from the city’s hated slum. Growing up though, none of the other nobles had seemed to see the humor in it. Nor did the commoners he had spoken with in the past months for that matter. Both could be so uptight at times he found.

Stifling a chuckle, Vallerian scanned over the crowds. He had spotted some Theremya in the crowd when he first entered, which of course meant his mother-in-law was in attendance. He’d rather avoid speaking to her for now. Even surrounded by hundreds, Vallerian was not confident she wouldn’t stab him if he said the wrong thing. Besides that, he had spotted his brother as well. Somehow running into that pompous monster seemed even worse.

Spotting a flash of ruby eyes in the crowd, looking straight at him no less, Vallerian pushed off from his pillar and lost himself in the throng once more. If he was among the crowd, it would be harder to find him. Slipping through small groups with remarks of how long it had been since anyone had seen him, Vallerian never dallied long in one spot. Better to keep moving if he didn’t wish to be trapped like a fox on a hunt.

Pushing between an old Fereni lord, a viscount if Vallerian remembered correctly, and a young serving woman the lord was pressing himself upon, Vallerian came to a stop at a familiar voice nearby.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness, but I fear I must decline.” Kriss spoke, a bit stilted but his words seemed honest. The boy was always that, honest to a fault. “I have just taken on a role at the temple you see. Er, the new temple of course. I fear it would be improper for me to abandon my post so quickly.”

Vallerian sidled up closer to the pair, not letting himself be seen, though a quick glance proved him speaking with the king’s brother, Prince Therisant.

“Are you sure?” The prince asked casually. “From what I heard, the Royal Guard could truly use a man of your talent. Seratos knows there aren’t enough talented men these days to fill the ranks.”

“I am truly honored Your Royal Highness.”

“Please boy, my lord is just fine.” The prince chuckled, and Vallerian could almost hear Kriss blush. Kriss really did have no idea about court protocol, poor boy, Vallerian would have to school him a bit on that. “We offer a handsome salary, alongside room and board on the palace grounds of course. You’d never see an empty belly again, I assure you.”

“My lord,” Kriss said patiently. “I really am honored by your offer, truly. But I…” Kriss trailed off, and with a glance Vallerian saw him staring out over the crowd to Celeste. “I have a promise I must keep.”

The prince cocked a brow then nodded as he followed the boys stare. “I think I might understand. Though if you ever change your mind the invitation is open. I hate to see talent go to waste, regardless of the status of one’s birth.”

“Thank you, Your… my lord.” Kriss corrected only a moment before making the same mistake.

“Though while I have you, I have a question about…”

“Eaves dropping, are we?” A crisp, venomous whisper into his ear stole Vallerian’s attention in a heartbeat.

Spinning, Vallerian came face to face with the last person he wanted to see today. Or, well, perhaps the second last if his brother really was here.

“My Lady.” Vallerian quickly forced a smile on his face, following up with a flourish of a bow. He hoped the bow was enough to hide the panic that had surely crossed his face. What could she possibly want now? “Of course, I would never debase myself as to…”

“Please, I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.” She proffered a white gloved hand, and Vallerian kissed the back of it politely. “Come.” She commanded and prowled off before Vallerian could even respond. Her stride flowed with the long silky black gown she wore, and he had to hustle to keep up with her.

Crysilla came to a stop, not bothering to look back, in one of the many small alcoves indented into the walls, each filled with various groups of couples chattering. These alcoves were places for lords and ladies to come speak quietly, conspiratorially, or perhaps scandalously. Quiet and conspiratorial seemed on the menu for Vallerian today.

“How I might I serve my ladyship.” Vallerian kept that smile of his right where it was, casual, charming, not showing a thing. Not revealing the tightness in his throat.

“How do you think Vallerian?” She studied him with those serpentine ruby eyes of hers.

“The girl?” Vallerian shook his head. “I thought I sent you that information. My meeting with our… friend, proved as we had initially thought. Kin is kin as it were.”

She cocked an unimpressed brow. “I did know that already, Theremya messengers never fail.” Her tone impressed that she was not in the mood for games today. “My concern is this ‘kneeling’ habit the peasants seem to be so fond of around her. It has certainly caused some changes in our plans. If not for that, I doubt His Majesty would have arranged this whole charade.”

Vallerian thought on those words for a long moment. The marchioness was obviously interested in Celeste, but he was still far from puzzling out the Theremya matriarch’s endgame. “The people of Southshore love her. They risked their lives for her during the battle, and I think they would do so against the…” Vallerian trailed off, even aside from the crowds as they were, one could never be too careful in the court. “…against whoever she might oppose.”

“That is what my other agents believe as well.” Crysilla mused, more to herself than to him. “I will admit, until now the girl was more of a contingency should some of my more elaborate plans not bear fruit. But with this…” She bit her lip, a habit that Vallerian noticed her daughter copying more than once to a certain effect. “The least impressive sprout might grow into the greatest oak as it were.”

Vallerian looked past Crysilla, looked to Celeste, then to the throne so nearby.

“If said oak wishes to grow so high.”

“It will need a proper gardener then, won’t it?” She tisked, a wide smile forming on her full lips. “I have some unfortunate business that needs my direct hand back in the Shaded Lands, and I do not believe I will return here until the autumn.”

At least I get a timeline this time. He thought snidely.

“I need the child prepared by the time I return.” Crysilla explained. “Do whatever must be done to see it so.”

Vallerian shook his head. “And what if she is resistant?”

Crysilla moved to leave the alcove, turning to look back at him for just a moment with a grin on her face. “Then perhaps, my handsome son-in-law, I will not have need for a gardener, and a woodsmen will be required to chop down the oak in the way of my view.”

Vallerian swallowed and watched as she walked off into the crowd once more. Shaking his head, Vallerian looked out over the masses, eyeing the girl, and sighed. I’m sorry Celeste, he thought honestly, but it looks like I must make a queen of you.

Whatever it takes, it would be necessary.