The War of Queens

Chapter 30

Sybil

 The silk of Sybil’s engagement dress was no ordinary silk. It was spun from some of the rarest, most exquisite caterpillars somewhere far across the Warm Sea, in lands where the waters of rivers was crystal clear and plums and peaches hung heavy from elegant trees. It was soft and light, and its pale pink color was so rich, even if it was only a blush away from white. The bodice was threaded with silver the same shade as the ribbons that tied together her sleeves, and silver rose patterns adorned the skirt.

 “You look beautiful,” Isabella said, from her chair beside their sister, Anne, in the corner of the chamber. She was growing beautiful as well; a plain sort of beauty, with a soft face and dark lips and eyes.

 “Indeed she does,” the Queen said from a far more ornate chair, placed closer to Sybil. She stood up with a smile and approached her. “The color suits you,” she complimented with a smile that made Sybil trust her words to be true.

 “Thank you, Your Grace.” Sybil did a small curtsey. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anne roll her eyes.

 Adrianne lifted Sybil’s hand and took a closer look at the work of the seamstress. “I told you it would be pretty,” she continued.

 “Is that why you insisted upon that color?” Anne asked from the corner. Sybil wanted to tell her to stop, to not cause a scene, but that would only make the act of defiance much more obvious. Not that Adrianne had not already sensed it.

 But Adrianne was not one to make a scene. “Don’t you think it’s pretty?” she asked instead.

 Anne nodded, not even looking at the dress. “Yes. But why did you insist on that color? Sybil is to be a Queen, and you give her blushing pink and silver - not even any gold.”

 The Queen sighed. “The common people may be common, but they are not stupid. They can look around them and see the possibilities of war. What they want is not a bold queen who will seek out battles in search of glory. What they want is a queen they can understand, and who can understand them. A tender, peace-breeding queen, who is content with blushing pink and silver rather than rich purple and gold, if only there is peace.”

 Anne tilted her head in a wordless gesture of defiance, but Adrianne ignored it, turning to Sybil once more. “I have to go now. But you do look breathtaking.”

 Anne managed to sit still until the Queen had left, but as soon as the door fell shut, she was on her feet, pacing the room. Sometimes she reminded Sybil a lot of Caterina. “You do know what she’s doing, right?” she hissed. “You do know that you’re not wearing that dress for the sake of the people.”

 Sybil sighed and turned to the seamstress. “Leave us.”

 “Yes, this color is tender, and it’s not very war-inspiring,” she continued, “but Adrianne is lying about her reasons for picking it. She does not want to calm down the people by posing you as a peaceful queen. She does not even want to pose you as a queen.” Anne’s nostrils flared with anger as she twirled around and faced Sybil. “She wants you to be a princess. Princesses wear sweet pastels that can’t harm anyone, not the bold colors of a queen. She wants you to stay passive, to stay a princess, a Queen-to-be, so that she can stay the Queen of Etheron.”

 “Don’t speak nonsense,” Sybil said. “Adrianne was the Queen until her husband died. Now she is the Queen Regent, and will stay so until her son is crowned. Then, she will be the Dowager Queen. No one can deny that. Those are the laws of succession.”

 “Sure, those are the laws of succession,” Anne drawled. “But no one follows those laws, not in practice. If the people listens to her, then she is the Queen, and that is it. And she may not always be the regent, but she will always be the Queen of Hearts.”