It had happened. Without Kendra saying so, I looked at her calm face, trying to understand what was going on in her mind. Anna and Emma remained as silent as Flier, all sensing something important was happening. My sister had changed in the last twenty days; I knew that. I didn’t know how much.
CHAPTER TEN
Princess Elizabeth
Will had insisted I must become a bitch of a princess. He wanted me to change my interaction with all those around me as a quick way to enforce my stance and bargaining power. To demand respect, as he said. Like Avery did. He was my example. While it was not in my nature, I saw Will’s point. I was not yet twenty years old. I would have experienced ambassadors sitting across a bargaining table working out the minute details of a treaty. They would think I was barely more than a spoiled child they could mold a treaty around, and they would be right. With my mild personality, they would never take me seriously, and the points in the treaty would be all in their favor.
When reaching Dagger and facing them at a negotiating table, supposing I ever managed to sail there past the storm, I wouldn’t have a staff of people at hand to help negotiate the finer points of a treaty—or to fight for those things that were important. The negotiators for Kondor would see me exactly as Will suggested—and take advantage of the little girl who pretended to be a grown woman. They would not see a competent emissary of Dire sent by her king. They would see me as a coddled princess sent to do a negotiator’s function without any real power.
Will was right. I needed to “age” myself, present myself as a stronger woman with a tougher attitude. That would help, but I also needed to intimately know the details of the proposed treaty—and consider the other information I was sent to learn.
After thinking over what Will said, there was more than just being firm. Being a bitch was not what he’d meant. He had just wanted to draw my attention to the traits I lacked. I needed to be direct and decisive. I also required to know what to demand of Kondor, what to relinquish as offers, and when.
Making a few veiled threats might also help. My staff would need to provide me with that information. But first, I needed to convince them to give me what I needed, and they also needed to understand they were not in charge of the details of the treaty. I was. My staff needed to change their way of thinking about me.
“I think I understand,” I muttered. “At least, I’m beginning to see the problem.”
Will sipped wine and gave me a sly wink; the same kind people give to children who perform their numbers or print their letters correctly for their tutors. It made me feel about ten. And that pissed me off.
I said in a heated voice, “From this point on, you will act and speak to me with the respect my position requires. Do you understand?”
He smiled wanly. “Your temper tantrum does not impress me. Respect is earned not asked for. It just makes me want to turn you over my knee and spank you, which is exactly what the Council of Nine is going to do to you if you don’t make changes.”
I was really angry and started to hit back by shouting and telling him again I was a princess, and he had to treat me better. The truth was, he didn’t have to. But something, some small kernel of what he was saying penetrated and took hold. I drew in a deep breath before speaking. “What should I be doing?”
He smiled again. “Act imperial at all times. Look down your nose. Keep your chin high. You are better than any of them. You will call their best wine, swill. You will spurn the finest gifts they offer. You’ll demand quarters suitable to a princess and will not settle for less. If they are not seated at the negotiating table before you arrive, you will depart because it is not your place to wait for anyone. You are above them in every aspect. Complain about everything.”
I listened, but in my mind, I rejected nearly all he said. It wasn’t like me to act like that.
He continued, “Let me be more direct. How many times has Avery used those tactics in your presence to get his way? In reality, he is only a servant of the next king. He acts like he is the next king or a member of the royal family. Avery has convinced everybody of his power and position repeatedly, and with the increased power that will be coming to him with the death of your father. He has intimidated you and nearly everyone else at Crestfallen.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“To all. Even the other servants. They laugh at how he manipulates you. Only Damon earns respect in that manner because he fights back, but all agree Avery is far better at the game. Damon makes his points, but Avery always wins. You must become Avery. Think of him and how he would act or react in a given situation and you will have a guideline. Exaggerate it, and you may bring home the treaty your father wants.”
“How did you get to be so smart in the last few days?” I asked.
He chuckled and stood. On his way past my chair, his hand brushed across my shoulder, his fingers seeming to linger for a scant moment as if to encourage me to be strong. The action filled me with energy and resolve.
And gave me plenty to think about. He was right. Instead of thinking of myself as a royal princess that was owed respect, I needed to become a leader who demanded it. I normally wore my hair down and loose. Pulling it back and tying it would provide a sterner look. As a rule, I wore little jewelry, but instead of my normal simple clothing, I should at least wear a scarf until we reached port and I could purchase better.
The things Lady Grace had brought for me sprang to mind. Earrings. And broaches. The gold stored in the carved box in my cabin would dress me as well as any royal—and there were gold coins to buy more if I had a place to spend it. Perhaps she had also brought a selection of formal clothing.
But the persona I needed to project didn’t only depend on jewels and clothing. It was the person inside. I tried to stand taller as I rose from the table, attempting to add height and squaring my body by shifting my shoulders back. As Will suggested, I raised my chin. Another passenger, a wealthy man who had nodded my way more than once, reached for the door and pushed it open as quickly as any servant.
Instead of lingering and allowing him to pass first, I wore a haughty expression and stepped ahead as if that was my right—and his place was to allow me to. Somewhat to my surprise, he relented and stood aside, accepting my position.
I felt like apologizing for my rudeness. Instead, I strode out onto the deck and angled my stride to walk directly at another passenger, a younger man who had a superior way of treating others. I held my chin high, as Will suggested, refused to make eye contact, and if he didn’t move aside, I was prepared to meet him chest to chest, nose to nose.
He moved aside with a muttered insincere sounding greeting. I grunted in return and continued walking and thinking. Rudeness was not the same as demanding respect, but there were aspects of it that were similar. People were willing to treat others as they demanded, much of which seemed to be physical as much as mental.
A strong leader didn’t have to identify himself or herself by a title or position. Avery often did it with a smirk. That twitch of his lips said he was superior in every way. No matter what mountain you’d climbed, what battle you’d been in, or how beautiful the girl you’d danced with, he had done more.
He seldom said it aloud. Avery didn’t brag. Instead, he raised his eyebrows, or smirked, or even smiled—but not in humor. It was as if he had called you a liar without words. I’d once baked peach pastries and proudly offered one to him. We were maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. He had said to me as he rolled his eyes as if I’d made a mistake, “I like cherry or apple. Not that this isn’t good, but cherry or apple is better.”