Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
What he did not do was touch me, hold me, embrace me or sirens-damned kiss me.
Who ever heard of a courtship that didn’t include kisses?
Even holding hands.
Not me.
And I was finding I wasn’t fond of it.
But last night, he’d come to our rooms with tales that Cassius had instigated an unexpected, unintended bloodless coup at the diplomatic table of the King of Firenze, so they’d spent the entire afternoon and well into the evening negotiating this.
They’d even called in two Go’Doan, both of whom I’d met at the betrothal dinner (along with the one called G’Seph).
G’Jell and G’Liam were seasoned in the art of diplomacy, with Aramus sharing that the younger, Liam, was an adept negotiator. Though, he said it was True who seemed to be most capable of containing Gallienus’s kingly indignation.
But like all Go’Doan, Aramus did not trust Liam.
This was because he’d been getting appeals from the Go’Doan with irritating frequency to allow them into Mar-el in order for them to build temples (to the Go’Doan gods, of course), schools to teach our children and hospitals where they would practice, as well as instruct in their ways of advanced healing to our people.
But all knew they also worked to spread the faith in their gods and the Mar-el had staunch devotion to our gods and goddesses of the seas and the storms and they would not like this.
So Aramus had refused.
Now, he would spend the day, from but ten minutes from then until probably when I was abed again, dealing with a defiant, but beaten, King Gallienus, his new regent—a prince who had no wish to be that, or indeed be a king—and the future of Airen and how to prevent it from descending into civil war.
In the meantime, before we left Firenze, my husband would sign a proclamation (or six of them, one for each realm, as well as one to be chronicled in Go’Doan, to hold in order to hold him to his promise, not that he wouldn’t keep it) to decrease the number of years served for those in service from fifteen to five.
This was the part that made me joyous, for obvious reasons.
Of course, everyone knew not to sail Mar-el waters without Mar-el permission. They also knew, if you did, what might befall you.
However.
I was joyous (and this was also why I felt relief) because my husband made this concession at the diplomatic table and it was a grand one. A noble one. It was not only honorable, it showed forward thinking and the ability to compromise.
As well as, not least importantly, humanity.
And obviously, if he were to listen and act on the things that were important to me, he’d need all of this.
I was also concerned for I did not know how our people would respond to the change he intended to make.
Obviously, the bounden, and those who were not wealthy enough to keep them or were not pirates, and thus they looked down on this practice (quite vigorously), would condone it heartily.
However, the wealthy landowners and pirates, likely not.
That said, when his great-great grandfather had made even more sweeping changes, although there was a period of unrest, it was quickly quashed for the number of those who opposed bondage and how those in it were treated was high, and eventually the landowners saw the wisdom of not rousing them.
But also, many of the bounden continued to be in service to them, rather than sailing ships to home (albeit paid service, and there was a stricture from the king on what they could get paid, so it was fair and equitable for their toil).
Others had simply chosen to stay, enlist in service on ships, open businesses, taverns and restaurants, wed amongst themselves or the Mar-el, for Mar-el was a land of great beauty, the seas held great bounty, and for the most part we were a jovial, fun-loving, friendly people.
“We won’t file and herald the proclamation until we’re home,” Aramus was saying, dressing and wolfing down the breakfast that a servant boy had brought up. “Though I’m sending men. They’ll go to the ships. Take one. Sail home. Put pieces in place to control those landowners who might cause problems.”
“The King’s Will be done,” I intoned what every child learned, and what every adult practiced.
And the King’s Will was done, as proclaimed by Triton, our god of the sea, and Medusa, our goddess of the same, for legend told both of them had coronated our very first king and thus the king reigned at the will of the gods.
And no one did anything to anger Triton and Medusa.
“Yes, my queen. Do you think there will be issues with this?” he asked, and my head jerked at the question.
“Pardon?” I asked in return.
He stopped lifting a triangle of toast spread with marmalade to his mouth and looked at me.