The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 2

Elizabeth

 The new Ambassador of Tibera was not at all Tiberan. He was born in Tibera, but his father had lived in the capital, and his father had been born in the small town of Padille just north of the capital. It was from that town that he had taken his last name.

 It was a new tradition amongst the Borghese to make last names out of their family’s place of origin. They were not royals, so they did not have Houses to give them last names, but they were also separated in wealth and intelligence from the rest of the commoners.

 Ambassador Alfred Padille was an integral part in the peace between the kingdom of Etheron and the kingdom of Tibera and, as such, was given liberties in whom he chose to bring with him. Amongst those in his household - not including servants and guards - was his sister, Cecily Padille, and his brother, Randall Padille, who brought with him his wife, Bianca.

 They all came to Elizabeth’s solar that day, to be formally greeted. The Ambassador was handsome, dressed in fitted, rich clothes. He was tall, broad-shouldered and his dark hair and pale, grayish green eyes complimented well. There was a certain presence about him that made everyone else fade away.

 He stepped forwards to kiss Elizabeth’s ring. “Your Grace,” he said in a rich, deep voice.

 Once he had stepped aside, his brother stepped forwards. Randall was a bit more slight, both in stature and presence, but his eyes were a cleaner green. He, too, kissed her ring, with an accompanying, “Your Grace.”

 Elizabeth had already turned her gaze to the third person. Randall’s wife seemed familiar; her darker skin and chestnut eyes and hair spoke of the south of Etheron - of the Branches, perhaps. Once she had kissed Elizabeth’s ring, Elizabeth said, “Do I know you?”

 Bianca kept her gaze lowered, but there was a not-so humble smirk playing on her lips. “No, Your Grace, but you may know my cousin. She is Lady Amalia of Eugene.”

 “Oh,” Elizabeth said, and added to herself, Of course.

 She gestured for the process to continue. Cecily Padille was a striking woman; tall and pale, with coal black hair and emerald green eyes. “Your Grace,” she whispered, almost breathily, as she curtseyed and kissed the ring.

 Elizabeth stood up once the round had finished. “Now, Ambassador, I would really like to speak to you in private.”

 He nodded while the rest of his household either curtseyed or bowed before leaving.

 "How is your lord?” Elizabeth asked, leading him to an adjacent room. Here, she sat on a couch and gestured for him to sit opposite of her.

 “His Grace is of good health,” Alfred said, sitting down. “We received word that Her Grace, his wife, has delivered him a healthy son.”

 Elizabeth’s mouth fell open and her fingers twitched towards her belly. She composed herself. “I’m glad to hear it. Be sure to include my good wishes for him and his family the next time you write him.”

 He nodded. She could tell that he had noticed her reaction to Sybil’s pregnancy. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

 “And the people?” Elizabeth asked, eager to move the conversation along. “Are they happy about the People’s Choice?”

 “I should think so, Your Grace,” Alfred replied.

 “Right.” Elizabeth smiled. “My lord, I had not heard much of you before your appointment, so I can only hope that you are capable of the duties that the position you are now in requires. It is a very vital position, after all, in achieving the peace between our two nations that we have been working for these past years. I therefore ask you to be… diplomatic in your correspondence with your master.”