Chapter II

II

Talia paused at that, mouth open slightly. She closed it with a snap as she spluttered. “I... uh, no, I mean...”

Another step as regimented as Talia’s marched down the stairs outside the room’s heavy oaken door, which then creaked opened a fraction. A voice whispered in Talia’s ear. It was low, and I only caught, “... carriage is ready...”

Talia nodded. “Thank you, Richmond.” At that, the military step retreated.

“We’re to proceed to the lower house of Parliament,” Talia said, collecting herself. “There, we will be confirmed as a Duke and Duchess. This is the primary reason you are here. I cannot be confirmed as a Duke whilst remaining unmarried.”

So, she’s rich enough to have a personal servant. I cocked my eyebrow at her. “Damn. You really got me excited for a second there. Well, whatever you say, dearest.”

Talia coughed at that. She pivoted on her walking stick and pulled open the door for me. The smells and sounds of the city clothed my ears as we proceeded up the steps to the street level, the mist from a light drizzle cloaking the rest of me immediately.

It was night. Far above, the twin auras of the two moons of Melodia, silver and violet, painted the clouds to the east in a cold glow. I always thought seeing both moons close together was an ominous sight. Expectant, like an indrawn breath. I stretched a little as my simple black dress began to moistly cling to my new, fresh skin. Echoing calls from a newsboy mingled with the clop and ricket of horsedrawn carriages moving up and down the thoroughfare. Orange pinpricks of oil flame beat back the darkness, and…

Hold on. There had to be dozens of flickering oil lamps on this street alone—which for all appearances was a public avenue. How rich was this city?

Damn. A century was a long time away from the world.

At that point, I was pricked with the feeling of standing alone—well, no, Talia was perhaps three paces behind me. Her slightly uneven step caught up with me. Her walking stick was no mere prop, apparently; the woman moved with a small limp. She wordlessly guided me—her ‘newlywed wife’—into a waiting carriage.

In moments, we joined the river of humanity rolling through the streets of the city.

“Welcome to the city of Cavaline, the Black Harbor,” Talia said after settling herself across from me. She laid her walking stick across her knees. “Are you familiar with this place?”

I shook my head. “No. Most of my contracts summoned me north, on the continent. Honestly, I’m much more at home in Revain. I’ve never been to the Isles. Black Harbor is the largest city here?”

I dimly remembered, from my last time under the sun, a mention of some hullabaloo about the Pallian royals struggling to quell an uprising, but I rarely paid politics much mind. From what little I’d seen of the city so far, things had simmered down a bit over the last century.

“Yes.” Talia nodded, and she launched into an explanation of the city and country that I swiftly began to tune out, for the most part. Instead, I took the time to feel out the garments created during the ritual that now clothed me. They weren’t much. A simple black dress that did absolutely nothing for my figure.

And before I knew it, we had arrived.

The footman held open the door for Talia and for me, her new, blushing ‘bride’. I remembered to look properly demure. Yes, I can look demure when needed! It’s not difficult.

We emerged before a marble-pillared building I assumed was the Royal Palace. It certainly looked imposing enough. A few noble types congregated beneath the outside façade in front of the great doors. I walked up the steps slowly enough for Talia to keep pace.

“So, what does this ceremony involve, exactly?”

Talia took my arm in her own. Her presence was not unpleasant; she was a head taller, after all. “You are to be confirmed as the wife of my body before Parliament, and then put under oath to uphold the nobility of the ancient House to which you are being raised. I’ll be making similar vows.”

Parliament. Interesting. Had the royals instituted that in the time I was away? I turned this over in the back of my mind as I asked the obvious next question. “And which house are we to be raised into?”

For the first time, I heard Talia laugh: a clipped, though not unmusical, chuckle. “A newly formed House, in truth. ‘Ancient’ in spirit, if not in technical fact. I’m being raised to the nobility for services rendered to the Commonwealth.”

“And that requires you to marry?” I shook my head. “This country already sounds uptight as fuck.” I left the rest unspoken: that Talia had not, apparently, contrived to find a suitable bride among the living.

We ducked as we passed through the oaken doors into the Palace—or was it the House of Parliament? That was more likely.

“You’re certainly not far off the mark,” Talia said, trailing off as the darkness of the interior retreated from our sight, revealing a few figures standing in the high ceilinged foyer.

I immediately sensed anew the fire rising behind Talia’s eyes. On the ride here, her emotional resonance had been muted, controlled. But now, the heat of her anger burned like an unquenched blade, her fury sharp and emanating waves of hateful ire.

Honestly, being human was always a curiosity to me; not being able to sense the emotions of those around me would leave me groping blind. The dark fire of hatred, the frozen steel of fear, the radiant sunlight of happiness: I can’t imagine how humanity survives without eyes to see these things!

I shivered at the sensation of Talia’s rage. Her eyes were sharpened on the whetstone of a deep, juicy hatred—as a figure, clearly the target of her fury, approached us.

“Marchesa Forteza,” Talia managed politely. I saw the other woman bow fractionally, and I, not knowing the custom well, followed suit.

“Ah, the privateer captain,” the Marchesa simpered. She wore a rich coat of some exotic pelt, and her neck and hands were fringed with gleaming jewelry, mostly golden. She put a finger against her own cheek, narrowed her eyes, then said, “We’ve wondered what name you will choose for your little House. Won’t you tell?”

Talia had sheathed the fiery blade behind her eyes, and adopted a flat stare. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you,” she said as she moved to walk past.

Forteza reached out and snatched at my shoulder, her grip swift and powerful—I felt for a moment like a doll sold at market. Forteza’s eyes passed over me, assessing, calculating. I couldn’t suppress a shudder. Within the Marchesa, a dim curiosity simmered amid a mist of self-satisfied possessiveness.

“Oh, poor thing. No need to fear me,” Forteza said. I pulled away from her—no, she let me escape her grasping hand—and with a click of her tongue she let us pass.

Whispers followed me and Talia as we made our way deeper into the building, but no one else approached us, the noble newlyweds, before we arrived at the door I suspected led into Parliamentary chambers. A figure stood beside the door, clipboard in hand. They peered over their glasses at our approach.

“Ah, not a moment too soon,” they said, and they opened the door to usher us inside.

Talia nodded to the figure and swept me into a high ceilinged, circular stone room. Our footsteps echoed as we approached a central plinth, facing a gathered congregation of what I took to be the ministers of Parliament. Not every seat was filled in the assembly—far from it, in fact. Perhaps a third of them were. The whispered conversation flitting between the marble pillars and velvet cushions quieted as Talia took the stand. I stood beside her, casting my eyes down as I played the demure wife.

The rap of the gavel came from across the room, killing those whispered conversations completely. “Gathered quorum, the Prime Minister recognizes Privateer Captain Talia.”

Once the speaker’s echo died down, Talia responded carefully. “I am so recognized.”

“Let the record show. Captain Talia, for services rendered to the Commonwealth above and beyond the line of your national duty, you are to be formally raised to the Nobility and given an Estate for the establishment of your House. Do you accept the weight of this asecension?”

Talia did.

All through the proceeding I could hear the Capitalized Words from the portly speaker. He enunciated beyond all propriety. From his comportment, he must have been the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth—or perhaps his spokesman. You never could tell with these bureaucratic types. He certainly looked the part of a Prime Minister, as he rattled on for another minute or two, so I felt the assumption was safe to make.

To the few questions posed by the Prime Minister, Talia gave short, one or two word answers.

Then, with no warning, the chamber’s attention turned to me.

“And now, in recognition of the need for a Noble House to perform its duties to the Commonwealth in perpetuity, the Prime Minister recognizes,” and here he consulted his notes, “Lucia of the Eldami Protectorates. Are you recognized as the spouse of this Talia, so named before?”

The silence that followed was an instant too long before I realized the chamber awaited my answer. “Y-yes. Um. I am so recognized.”

“Very well. Do you accept the weight of this ascension, to be named the Duchess of her House?”

Duchess? Nice. I blinked a few times, parsing the language. “Yes. I mean, I do.”

That was, apparently, sufficient.

The Prime Minister continued in a tone that suggested things were wrapping up. Behind him, appearing through a far doorway opening above the many, largely empty seats, a large military figure stepped into the room. They observed the proceedings with an almost distracted air.

I jumped as I felt a flare of hatred wash over me like a heatwave. I immediately recognized it emanated from Talia, whose eyes fixed for half a second on the figure before she jerked her head away.

I looked from my soon-to-be-Duke, to the near-silhouette in the archway opposite, and back again.

There was something here that continued to pull at my interest. Something deep, and painful, and powerful festered within Talia. A half-formed suspicion began forming within my mind, but I tucked it away for now.

“And, to the final matter to which you’ve doubtless given much thought. Duke Talia, under what name should your House be known, now and in perpetuity?”

The question hung in the air between the Prime Minister and the new Duke.

Talia fixed the Prime Minister with a look that seemed to promise steel. “I will be known as the Duke of Fallmire.”

And, at that last word, a silence descended upon the gathered assembly. Eyes that had moved distractedly through the entire proceeding now fixed themselves upon Talia. Shock filled those frozen expressions, and the Prime Minister’s mouth hung open. The only one that seemed unaffected by this was the figure at the far door, the one who had aroused such hatred in my new ‘wife’.

His eyes were also fixed on Talia, and into the silence he slid a low, cruel laugh.

To this, Talia, Duke of the House of Fallmire, answered nothing.