WeaverWitch

Chapter 8- Denial

Safi curled her fingers around the armrests of her wooden chair, nails digging into the hardwood. They ached from being bitten until they bled. On the outside, her face was molded into a stiff sculpture. But her cheeks bleeding from being torn at with her teeth in an effort to keep her mouth shut. To distract her from the knowledge that her threadsister was lying unconscious in the infirmary, half delirious, as Safi sat and listened to her future Emperor husband drone on and on to his court. She wanted nothing more than to leap out of her seat and demand that he listen to her, that he punish the pheasants that stabbed Iseult, but he was "working". Such trivial matters as one of Safi and Leopold's honored guests almost being killed came second to hearing noblemen wallow about getting their rations diminished slightly. As in, instead of getting one stick of butter for the week, they only got two sticks of butter for three weeks. Oh, the suffering! I have to get out of here.

Clenching her teeth, she fixed her gaze on the huge, toadlike man sitting in the large throne in front of her. He looked like he was enjoying himself. Enjoying himself, even as the reports turned from petty complaints to desperate begs for food and protection from the ever-growing armies of the Raider King.

Every time, he would wave his hand and say contemptuously "We are not at war with the Raiders, I can do nothing. Waging war over a tiny village would be idealistic." They were then ushered away by soldiers as he turned to the next starving family.

Finally, he seemed to tire of sentencing his subjects to certain death and sat up, waving away the remaining people. "Any specialized cases?"

Safi stood up so quickly that her dress practically tore from her shoulders and a sprig of hair broke loose from her intricate hairstyle. Ignoring this, she cleared her throat and spoke quickly.

"Yes, a very special case, your Highness. I believe I mentioned it to you earlier-"

Henrik raised his meticulously plucked and painted eyebrows at Safi. "Ah yes. My... future empress. Have a seat, please." He looked at her like she was a puppy that jumped on a stranger, annoyed but patient- like she was poorly trained. Like she was a pet that ought to know better.

Safi looked around at the fixed glares and astounded gazes of the nobles in their bleachers, gawking and whispering at her unladylike outburst, and reluctantly sat down.

"Ahem. Anyway, your Highness, one of my guests was assaulted by a group of petitioners. They stabbed her in the shoulder and she is currently unconscious in the infirmary. I would like to call for punishment, at least dungeon hours-"

Henrik interrupted again. "Were they provoked?"

Safi ground her teeth and shook her head. "No."

"Then why did they attack her? Surely there was some reason."

Safi shifted her feet. "Well... some people are offended by her... ethnic background, which I see as irrational and uncalled for."

He nodded slowly, looking bored. "Ah yes, the Matsi. Well, I cannot keep my subjects from prejudice seeing as it is the Matsi folk who have been terrorizing their villages."

Oh, now he called it terrorizing. She hated how he said "Matsi" like it was their proper name, not a rude slang word. Her voice began to spiral out of her control. "With all due respect, your Highness, there are just as many Dalmotti and Marstoki soldiers in the Raider armies as Nomatsi. And she was not only my guest but Prince Leopold's- Leopold?" She looked around for the prince, finding him in the royal box, a few feet behind the Emperor. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but stayed silent. The court was now amused, whispering and laughing. The Emperor was holding back a smile as he opened his mouth to speak.

Safi cut him off. "Fine. Well, since you will obviously not consider my case, I must go and visit my guest. Goodbye." She walked out with her future husband red in the face behind her and the court open-mouthed and staring as she made her way to the infirmary, dress trailing on the marble floor.