A Queen Named Victory

Chapter Thirteen

My cotton skirt brushed against my legs as I paced in my room. Its beaded tassels swished from my abrupt swivels. I halted in front of the large mirror, gaping at myself. I bore the traditional Dimikyrian style for married women that left my belly untouched by fabric.

It was a modest madder dress, unlike my wedding attire, with a simple textile design. I adorned a stunning silver chain cover over my breasts that had been a staple of the most ruthless woman in Montverian history, Queen Therizin, who Dimikyrians knew for wreaking havoc on the battlefield. The strongest warriors screamed at the sight of the Queen with talons sharper than swords for fingers. My long veil was the finishing touch to my outfit. Charcoal remnants that the weavers used to stain the fabric made my nose itch. I carefully avoided the snapdragon seed pods dangling at the fabric's edge to cover scratch my nose with my knuckle.

"His Majesty arrives," my attendant announced, bowing.

"I don't see why we have to act like this right now?" I drawled as we walked together with interlocked arms.

"Practice makes for perfection," Grendel relished a bit too enthusiastically.

He took slow strides to ensure I did not trip over my long skirt. We waited moments in front of the massive stone doors. He pressed his right hand over mine, murmuring, "You'll be fine."

"Pfft. You speak as if this scares me."

"HIS MAJESTY, GRENDEL OF HEBBE, AND HER MAJESTY, SIGRID OF YLVA; REIGNING MONARCHS OF MONTVER. THE HOLY MOTHER BLESSES US," servants at all corners of the hall announced in unison to an eerily quiet audience.

At once, all members of our audience bowed so low their foreheads touched the stone floor. Grendel waited for me to sit upon the throne first before he sat.

"At ease," he commanded.

I sat in silence while Grendel issued the basic details of our plan. He began with the expansion into Geriset. My grandmother confirmed the theory of fertile soil with stories from her grandparents. Translators rushed to follow her dramatic storytelling in Dimikyrian. The most loyal court officials seemed pleased with our plan. It made it easier for us to pluck out Deinoth's weeds.

The most notable was his niece, Elluis. She was as cruel with her tongue as she was beautiful. Her tiny stature enticed men and women alike, but she wanted Ekidnas more than any other Montverian. They closed their discussion on agricultural plans and opened the floor for marriage requests.

"Sire, I say this with the utmost respect; Can her majesty handle those responsibilities? I fear the difference in language will be a significant problem."

"You should ask her yourself. Well, my wife, are you fine with these new tasks?"

I nodded without speaking, partially due to my nerves. Two noblewomen stepped forward with their requests, and I approved. Hopefully, my approval opened a pathway to a useful acquaintanceship. Elluis was the last to rise with her offer.

"I decline," I asserted with pleasure before she finished speaking.

"B-but Her Majesty," she bleated, unsure how to take the sudden rejection.

She realized I spoke without my husband to translate, then balled up her skirt between her fists then tried again, "I have done nothing but welcome you into our courts. I join you for mid-day meals." I raised a hand, silencing her. Elluis had to marry into Grendel's court soon, or else she would return to her home country empty-handed.

That is one less bitch in Montver.

"Return to your seat, Elluis of Travor."

Elluis bowed stiffly. I heard her breathy mutter about her uncle finding out before she stomped back to her seats. Nobody else heard her, so I left the issue alone for the courts' sake. The servants announced the sudden arrival of another person. Their voices boomed over Elluis's sobs.