Doing her best to hold her emotions in check, Odelia inclined her head. “Your patience is most kind, Your Grace.” She looked to Arietta, always careful not to usurp her mistress’s role as hostess. “Will you be needing anything, my lady?”
Arietta looked at her mother. “May I offer you something?” she asked. Her tone was sweet, but she was seething inside-her mother’s remark to Odelia had not been innocent. “Some pear cider, perhaps, or apple wine?”
The cider had gone bad, and Elira hated apple anything.
Elira replied with a shrewd smile. “I am afraid we haven’t the time.” She waited until Odelia had withdrawn, then finally deigned to comment on her daughter’s attire. “Arietta, really. It’s not as though your father is lacking for guards. Won’t you find that armor rather hot aboard the Wave Wyvern?”
“How nice of you to be concerned,” Arietta replied. “But it won’t be a problem, since I won’t be aboard.”
Elira rolled her eyes. “I thought we had finished that conversation.”
“We did,” Arietta replied. “You made it clear that you and Father intend to flee the realm in its time of need. I intend to defend it. There is nothing more to discuss.”
Elira sighed and looked to the ceiling. “I could have sworn that Chauntea sent me a daughter.”
“She sent you a Seasilver,” Arietta retorted. “And with that name comes a duty to the realm.”
“A duty that is your father’s to observe,” Elira said, narrowing her gaze. “And he is doing precisely that.”
“By fleeing the war?” Arietta scoffed. “I think not.”
“Then we agree-you don’t think,” Elira said. “Because if you did, you would remember that your father is in line to the throne.”
“Twelfth in line!” Arietta pointed out. “He won’t be ascending anytime soon.”
“Be that as it may,” Elira said, “he must survive. He owes it to the king.”
“He owes it to the king to flee the war?”
“Just so,” Elira said. “Arietta, you must consider the larger picture. Your half-uncle Erzoured is undoubtedly scheming with the Shadovar, while anyone with the Obarskyr name is obliged to stay in Cormyr to fight. We must make certain that a legitimate heir remains to claim the throne. And that duty falls to your father.”
Arietta was surprised to see the wisdom of her mother’s argument. She began to wonder if she had judged her father unfairly. “And the king has asked this of him?”
Elira flashed a condescending smile. “The king didn’t need to ask, my dear. Your father understands what is required.”
“He understands …” Arietta could only shake her head, too accustomed to her father’s self-serving rationalizations to be shocked. “Has Father at least thought to send word, informing the king of his plans?”
Elira waved a hand dismissively. “The king has other things to worry about. He does not need to concern himself with the safety of your father’s sea-crossing.”
“Of course not,” Arietta said. “And I doubt that he would. In fact, if the Wyvern were to go down at sea, it would probably be a great relief to His Majesty. There would be one less craven grand-nephew in his line of succession.”
“That is most uncalled for,” Elira snapped. She glanced toward both doors to make certain no servants were eavesdropping, then leaned closer and spoke quietly. “Your father is merely looking toward the future. After Cormyr falls-and it will-the people will need a king in exile to keep their hopes alive.”
“And do you actually expect the people to find hope in a coward?” Elira glared. “If I were you,” she warned, “I’d be mindful of that tongue of yours. It’s the reason you are still unmarried at four-and-twenty-and it’s why Aubrin has refused to honor your secret understanding.”
“Mother, there is no understanding-secret or otherwise,” Arietta said. “I wish you would stop telling people that. He said four words to me, and not one of them implied love.”
“Love? Pshaw.” If Elira had noticed the catch in her daughter’s voice, she betrayed no sign of it. “Love is for people who don’t matter. You, my daughter, are a Seasilver.”
“Which is why I would never swear a false vow,” Arietta said, “or accept one from anyone else.”
“Vows? Pshaw!” Elira threw up her hands in exasperation. “This foolishness has gone on long enough. I’ll see you aboard the Wyvern, Arietta.” She rose and started for the door. “We set sail within the half hour.”
“Thank you for the update,” Arietta said, also rising. “But I have decided to stay.”
Elira waved a hand over her shoulder dismissively. “Your father is not giving you that choice.” Upon reaching the anteroom, Elira stopped and turned, cocking her head as if a thought had just occurred to her. Her voice softened. “He says you have enough space in your cabin for ten trunks.” She gave a little smile. “How would he know if one of those trunks held Odelia?”
Arietta’s stomach grew cold. “I know what you’re doing, Mother.” Elira’s suggestion was, of course, a manipulative ploy. If Arietta agreed to come along nicely, her mother would look the other way and allow her to smuggle Odelia aboard. If not … well, then Odelia’s abandonment would be on Arietta’s shoulders. “It won’t work.”
Elira shrugged. “The girl’s future is yours to decide,” she said. “But tell me, Daughter, have you forgotten the teachings of Siamorphe?”
“You know that I have not.”
“And doesn’t she teach us that it is the duty of all vassals to obey the commands of their liege?”
Arietta began to feel ill. “Of course.”
“Well, there you have it. Farnig is your liege as well as your father. To disobey him is to disobey your goddess.”
“But my liege has duties, too,” Arietta objected. “Father should be leading the fight, not running from it with every bauble he owns.”
“What good would it do for him to throw away his life and his treasure? That would only bolster the enemy further. You mustn’t defy your father, Arietta, not in this. He always says that you are his greatest treasure-and he won’t lose you to the Shadovar, either.”
Arietta met her mother’s gaze. “It would be better if he treasured the people of Marsember.”
“Better for the Shadovar, I think,” Elira countered. “Thirty minutes, Arietta. I’ll send someone to fetch your trunks.”
Elira strode across the anteroom and struck the door with the heel of her hand, causing a surprisingly loud boom for such a thin woman. Again, the lock clacked open. The two guards slowly opened the door and peered inside, as though they feared Arietta might be waiting to attack or bolt past her mother.
Arietta shook her head in exasperation. Her father had been keeping her a near prisoner for almost a month now, ever since the sergeant of his guards had discovered her in a tavern one night, disguised as a common minstrel and singing onstage. Arietta had tried to bribe the man to keep her secret, but he had pocketed her coin and used it to prove the truth of his story when he told her father. As a reward, her father had tripled the payment.
With the door locked again behind her, Arietta turned and found Odelia holding a seldom-worn gown in her arms. From her hopeful expression, it was obvious she had been eavesdropping. Elira’s plan to make her a stowaway was the girl’s best hope of survival.
“So, you’ve heard?” Arietta asked, knowing that Odelia would never be so bold as to bring up the subject herself. “My father says we have room for ten trunks.”
“Then … you may have some difficult choices to make,” Odelia said carefully. “I have already packed fifteen.”