withered rose-petals

Konu listened carefully to her description, wondering what he might be gleaning from her words. He wasn’t successfully gleaning anything, but he try his best to remember what she said and perhaps figure something out in the future based on what she said. She was, after all, going to be around for an awfully long time, if things went well. As they spoke, he guided her toward the shore, more by his own movements than by touch or words. Eventually, they reached a sort of stone path near the sand, which would be easier to walk on without dirtying her clothes. He didn’t know if she cared about that sort of thing; certainly, she was always impeccably well put-together whenever he saw her. But perhaps she was still concerned with impressions.

Catoria. He whispered the name under his breath, hoping to commit it to memory, or at least to be able to pronounce it right. It sounded nice enough, though his first instinct was to ask if the castle was haunted. Cayb holds similarly old places–forts in the eastern part of the country that predated the Eastern palace–and there were always rumors of ghosts and the like. The thought made him smile.

Her question, however, squashed that smile slightly. He didn’t want her to feel a burden, but he didn’t particularly want to lie either. “I grew up east of here.” His words came out slowly, more to buy him time to find the right ones than for her benefit. “It’s farther from the coast; no beaches at all, really.” It was hard to say how she would take the last part, but in the end, the desire for transparency won out. “I chose to meet you here because I thought it might be easier. It’s not an island but…” He’d been watching her while they were speaking, trying to pay attention to what she was saying, but now he turned out, toward the waves. “Those are goshawks.” He pointed to one of the birds, not wanting to linger on a topic that made him uncomfortable. The birds were large, loud things soaring over the water. “They’re mean and aggressive, and not at all afraid of humans.”

Gysella nodded her head at his simple explanation. It was not a very good answer to her question, and she wondered if it was because she’d either not asked her question the right way or hadn’t properly understood him. There was of course the third option: that he was happier in the place where he grew up, which was not where they were now. To Gysella, who was still very much a foreigner in these lands, the notion of east meant very little to her. She did not know what the land would look like, or what the weather would be like, or if there were changes to the dialect of a language she was still struggling to learn. She knew only what he’d explained: that there were no beaches at all, and apparently very much inland.  “Strange,” she replied. “Everywhere has coasts where I come from.” There was no island within the archipelago of her father’s kingdom that was large enough to truly be removed from the waters which surrounded the land. The capital city where her father dwelled was situated on one of the region’s largest islands, and the fine castle she had been born in had views of the ocean most would be envious of. It was hard for Gysella to picture a place totally removed from the scent of saltwater in the air. 

Normally, Konu was actually decent at schooling his first instinct. The many cases where he’d failed to do so around Gysella notwithstanding, he actually felt prepared in matters of diplomacy within his own borders. He knew the danger of letting one’s gut response slip into one’s responses, especially around more hotheaded people than himself. So perhaps it was a combination of his own frustration and, frankly, comfort around Gysella, that despite himself, he let his next thought slip from his lips. “The man is a fool regardless.” The moment he said it, he searched for some way of correcting himself. Some explanation or change in phrasing that would make the statement softer. None came to him. “I apologize,” he said instead. “I can’t say I’ve ever been fond of him. It is my hope that…” That he be tossed out on his ear, but that was a bridge too far, he thought. “That perhaps he can find employ elsewhere when the title is yours.”

Her honest feelings brought both surprise and relief. “I am fond of you too,” he replied, taking her free hand in his. “And I would not be opposed to learning from you. I think perhaps your suggestion–that we be more like husband and wife–I think this would be a wise choice. For, er, for us.” For their strength as sovereign heads, yes, but also for them as people. As a couple, to be so bold. Konu was beginning to wonder if they had focused altogether too much on being sovereign heads and not enough on trying to be a strong couple first.

A grin appeared on Gysella’s lips at Konu’s poor estimation of the astrologer. When he began to search for an apology, she shook her head. “Do not offer apologies on behalf of that fool,” she asserted. “Call him what he is. He is dithering over stars when it is in his best interest to push forward with this marriage, and to cater to you,” she said. There were some aspects of the Cayvish culture which evaded her — among them being the fine details on how her life as Queen here would differ from how a consort lived in the Golden Isles. 

She understood enough to comprehend that she would never live like her own mother — competing amongst a harem of women picked at the leisure of her father for some scrap of power — but she still found it was difficult for her to fully take in what the scope of her rites would be once ascending to the Queenship in Cayb. She could not help but to presume that power would rest solely in Konu’s hands, with her at his side to guide his decisions. He would be the head of Cayb, but she might be its neck, and dictate where the head would turn. 

“My mistake,” he corrected immediately. “On both fronts.” He didn’t think it practical to keep a list of words she knew–after all, such list should expand to the size of the dictionary, no?–but his intent had been to recall at least somewhat which topics he knew she could cover. Such efforts had proven less fruitful than he’d hoped, as he seemed constantly to both over- and under-estimate her. How such a thing was possible, he couldn’t say. Only that it embarrassed him. Embarrassed them both, in all likelihood.

The topic of the sickness, again, gave him pause. He’d only heard it mentioned in the strategy talks vaguely, as their military size had always been smaller than Cayb’s anyway. It hadn’t seemed to signify much, in Konu’s limited understanding. The bigger issue had always seemed to be that their soldiers were richer: better funded, better fed, better morale. It was only now, in the face of her loss that it occurred to him the depth of pain this mysterious illness must have caused. Perhaps that was why marriage had always been such a useful tool for peace; the way it humanized the toll battles took on the other side. “I…” He searched for words but, again, none came. Konu had many experiences, but none which compared to hers in this respect. Perhaps, then, it was best to side-step the topic until he knew what to say. “I’m glad you were able to do as you liked.” And then, though perhaps it was cheeky of him, he added. “I can’t much imagine you are someone who is easily kept.”

Another way they were different, then, it seemed. He preferred his home inland. He wondered if she could learn to like the mountains east. Or–was that selfish? Should he, instead, simply give up his birds, his tower, his favorite home? She’d given up much, clearly. Was the solution compromise? The thought sat like a pit in his gut, and he willed himself to push it away. He would think on it later. Procrastinating problems had always been a skill of his. Since she didn’t seem opposed, he led her toward that beach, a comfort settling into his heart as he began to hear the faint calls of the hawks that favored the area. “Did you have any particular favorite spots?” he asked. “Places you returned to often? Or are you the sort of traveler who never repeats a trip?” He had been, so far. There was too much of Cayb to see. He’d not yet even seen it all.

Her dark gaze lingered on Konu as he began to speak, and she awaited a perfunctory expression of sympathy for her many losses. She had heard it often, and spoke it more often still to those islanders who wailed with grief as they had come to her father’s court. For Gysella, the worst of the mourning was well beyond her — greater injuries to her pride had been sustained in the wake of those losses, and it was that she contended with more often than the thought of her dead kin who had gone sick and suffering. She was privately relieved, then, when Konu offered no condolences for the losses that had befallen her and the others who hailed from the Golden Isles, and focused instead on her travels. A small smile returned to her face, which turned crooked with quiet amusement as he suggested that she was not a creature easily kept.

“I enjoy freedoms,” she replied, nodding her head in agreement with his estimation. “My father’s court is beautiful,” Gysella allowed, careful to enunciate her words as she discussed her father’s home, “but there is much beauty to be found outside of it.” Cayb was a not altogether unattractive region, she’d found. There was much of it she had yet to see: it was vast when compared to the compact and bustling cities of the Golden Islands, where much of nature had been torn down to give way to growing towns and villages. She did not know how keen Konu might have been on traveling, but she believed it important to see the lands that would be one day under their rule. 

Konu shook his head. “The wisest course is to try to–well, to see if we can find some way for the stars to align with us.” As fun as it might be to fantasize about torturing the astrologer–or, for that matter, bribing him to leave–it would be best to keep the relationship to the church peaceful. For now. “The Queen–or the position of Queen–holds significance to the church. I rather imagine, when you hold it, he will want your ear over mine.” Konu had found it difficult to make Gysella see what being Queen meant in Cayb. She seemed to grasp that his mother was a powerful figure, but not that she too could have that same power. Well, would have that same power, if everything went as it was supposed to.

He did not want to think on the possibility that the astrologer himself wanted to continue the war. And he did not want the topic to distract from the other question Gysella had raised. As was often the case, he was beginning to think their disconnect here was again due to false assumptions. He’d read in history books that arranged couples were given briefs on one another prior to meeting. Because their countries had been at war, no such brief was given to him, even if such a practice were still alive. Perhaps all of their fights could have been avoided if they had. And if he’d read them. Konu recalled how he’d spent the weeks before her arrival avoiding any learning. A foolish mistake, but one he probably would’ve made even if they’d had her diaries in the library.

Still, honesty had gotten them this far, no? And though he would have to be honest about his own embarrassment and shame, at least he did not think it would shame her to hear of it. Quietly, and unable to meet her gaze despite her gesture of comfort, he spoke. “At first, I did not want to make you uncomfortable by bringing it up. We couldn’t even talk alone, so how could we–” He couldn’t find the right word, so he left a space there, allowing her to fill in the blank as she saw fit. With a moment to brace himself, he looked up at her. “I believe your experience is vaster than mine. I was–I am afraid that further dissatisfaction would cause another divide between us.” The specifics of why her experience differed from his hardly mattered here. In fact, the more they lingered on it, the more Konu felt that, perhaps, what they needed to do was try to close some of the gaps between them. If they worked more in tandem, the road to their wedding would be easier.

Gysella was not warmed by the notion Konu suggested. It felt very much to her that he was suggesting they be cowed into silence and submission, awaiting the moves made by the astrologer and the church. She had felt since shortly after her arrival in Cayb that the religious forces at work in the nation held too much sway. She perhaps cast a blind eye on the religious rituals and rites so firmly embedded in her own culture in making this judgment, but it was an easy judgment to make when they were not her gods in question. It was perhaps with some arrogance that she felt certain her gods supported what choices she made and what wants she possessed. 

 “He is a fool to think I will be taken in by whatever he may one day think to whisper into my ear,” she answered with a scoff. She was a proud woman, after all, given to resentment and grudges when she felt that she’d been wronged. “I will not forget this slight.” Konu had endeavored to explain this to her before — the relationship between church and Queen — but she had found it difficult to see past the arrangement as having been born out of the power his mother currently held. Surely, when the time came for Konu to ascend, he would be viewed as the more viable candidate for their pressures. Surely, she would be regarded as a foreign Queen with foreign gods. She did not begrudge this characterization. It would be only Konu’s ear that she would care to have. 

Of all the difficulties he’d encountered since arriving West to meet Gysella–and to be sure, there had been many difficulties–the one he’d found most taxing was being away from his birds. Oh, to be sure, they were well cared-for at the Eastern Palace. But he liked taking care of them, liked the routines they required. It was much the way people who enjoyed riding on horseback felt about their horses, or so he assumed. He was alright on a horse, but felt no attachment to them the way some people seemed to.

“It is. It’s very peaceful on the beach.” He paused, considering her vocabulary. They’d done so well so far, he didn’t want to seem patronizing by defining words she already knew. And yet. “Beach is–uh, near the water, with sand? I think you have a lot of beaches on the Islands.” He assumed from the maps, anyway.

Then again, he’d learned recently how lacking those maps are. Perhaps, it would be better just to ask. People liked answering questions about themselves. “Did you? Have a lot of beaches, that is. Or were you kept farther from the water?” He had heard talk of the capital city, where their king lived, but those had been military talks. Strategy and siege. Not only was he unsure how reliable they were, but it seemed ill-advised to bring up the war with Gysella, beyond what was necessary.

As they talked, he led her along the same road they’d ridden into town, through the main square and then veering just away from the town center. They were hardly far from the coast, only a few minutes walk, but if he got the sense on their short journey that she thought it was stupid, he’d take her somewhere else. He’d improvise something, if necessary.

There was a look of mild amusement on Gysella’s face as he offered her a more concise definition of beach, and she nodded her head. “I know ‘beach,’” she supplied, though she purposefully concealed that she had not recalled the word for peaceful, which he’d helpfully slipped into the conversation. She yearned for the day that she had a mastery of this foreign tongue, so she did not come across as infantile to him.  “I was not kept,” she replied, taking care to form her lips over the word in the way she’d seen him do. “I traveled much.” Her father had afforded her much liberty in her youth, when there had still been her brothers and their kin ahead of her in the line of succession. She had spent much of her time traveling by pleasure barge between the islands, receiving fine tutoring and engaging in the diversity of culture amongst islands. She had cultured herself in other ways, too, in that time — sowed her wild oats, as her father had liked to say. “It is why I was spared sickness.”

It was generally ill-advised to laugh at one’s wife, Konu assumed, and yet, he could not quite cover the sound that burst out of him at her suggestion. “You want to bribe the astronomer?” he asked. Truthfully, the idea was no worse than his own to threaten the man. It was simply less bloody, and costlier. Though, given the trunks of jewels she’d come with, perhaps cost was no issue to her. So that she did not think he was laughing at her expense, though, he felt the need to clarify. “Your imagination is kinder than mine. I’ve often dreamed of having Min’s men threaten him.”

He did his best to school his face to a serious one, worthy of her own tone, but her suggestion did nothing to help him. Again, he felt the tips of his ears pink. Here, then, was the heart of it. Their cultures differed so wildly in matters of intimacy, and he’d done his best to skirt the issue, unsure how to navigate it. That had been an error. He seemed to make all together too many errors when it came to her. But now she was clarifying what she wanted, in as plain a way as he could think of. Give her a child? “I see.” No, again, this response was too distant. He cleared his throat, mentally grasping for words.

“That is. I would–I would very much like…” Was that too forward? Too brash. He hadn’t intended to get her with child before the wedding. Such things went against propriety. But the act in question? It would be simply a lie to say he hadn’t considered that. “I would like to spend the time with you,” he said, shocked that the words came out as smoothly as they did. “And to share in, uh, that is–” He looked away. The proper answer was not written on the walls of the building, nor the horses at their carriage, much to his disappointment. “I would like that.” The course-correction felt like giving up, but he simply could not find the words to answer her.

As had happened earlier this very day, Konu was struck by the thought that she would have made a good ruler in her own land. Now that she had told him that she had once been in line for the throne, he could see it clearly–she would be a strong leader; she had the hunger for such things. He did not, which had never seemed to matter before. He’d been crowned as a mere child, only barely old enough to understand that he did not want it. What did it matter if he lacked the ambition for a job that was already his, despite his wishes?

It was a relief, perhaps, that she would rather discuss another topic. He did not want to return to the question of his qualities. Her words still echoed in his head as it was. A king should be like a lover. “Yes,” he said, in agreement to nothing in particular. The owner came to clear the table, his only comment a sort of coughing sound. “Thank you,” Konu said softly. He fished coins from his coat–more than the meal was worth, but times had been hard in the last season, and people would not start flocking to the Western capital until closer to the coronation.

He rose, considering her question as he led her back to the street outside. There was a true answer, and an impressive answer. Perhaps, if they had been with their entire retinue, he would have tried to impress. Instead, with a small sigh, he opted for the truth. “I like–I like to watch the birds by the beach,” he told her. If he had been the religious sort, this would be a good time to send a prayer to The One. May she not think me simple for this. “We can walk there and you will be able to see the countryside, too.” Perhaps the opportunity to see more of Cayb would make the idea less bland-sounding.

Gysella was surprised to see Konu pay for his meal when the owner had returned. In the Golden Isles, an innkeeper would have refused money from a member of the royal family — it would have been a blessing merely to host them as guests, and a sign of good fortune to come. She thought that this gesture made the difference in status between Konu and the owner weaken, but perhaps that was by design. She found herself slightly miffed at the stranger’s lack of courtesy towards her, but nonetheless dipped her head in a gesture of a bow and rattled off a well-practiced thank you. 

Konu nodded. Her suggestion was perfectly reasonable–that they each talk to their respective sides and see if they can calm things down. “I would like to speak to them.” Konu was under no illusion that he was some great politician, but he wanted to make a good impression on his future in-laws. In order for the truce to hold beyond the honeymoon period, he would need for them to either like or respect him. Either would suffice, but he did need one of them.

“I will speak with them both.” There had been a few times where Konu had fantasized about threatening the astrologer. Or, more likely, sending someone to threaten him. The whole operation would not suit him, but a man could dream, could he not? “I can’t say I know exactly how the stars work, but I do know most creatures can be reasoned with. Surely there is something that can be done.” Maybe if he explained that the stars were about to start another war, that would encourage them to move to the correct position or whatever. 

Her hope, or determination (he wasn’t sure which), was certainly inspiring. “I would like to mend.” Konu didn’t see himself as some great savior or hero-king, but he did want to do a good job. He wanted to take care of Cayb. “And, perhaps, since we are able to see the mistakes they made, we will be able to solve them.” He hadn’t considered it, but this was probably hard for her. Coming from her wealthy home to fix a war between her nation and an unfamiliar one would be scary. 

He squeezed her hand, a sincerely relieved that they had made it passed this difficult moment in their relationship. “I would like that,” he assured her. Then, after a moment, despite his embarrassment at having to admit it, he had to ask: “What, uh, what exactly does that entail, treating one another like husband and wife?” Konu was not a particularly imaginative person, but even he knew that there was quite a variety in how husbands and wives were around each other.

“Believe me, they will want to speak with you.” Or throttle him, in the case of her uncle. Even her mother, as she knew well, could put forth a rather threatening image when it appealed to her to do so. She’d navigated her father’s court and women with it, after all. “It is in your best interest to wait until I’ve placated them some. They will be impossible to reason with before then.” It was difficult for her to know if his mother would be at all the same. She had always been kind enough to Gysella, but it was clear now that there was much she did not know. Perhaps behind closed doors she despised her, but simply would never say anything. 

None of it would matter, she reasoned, once she and Konu were married. Their political position would be secure, their inheritance of power secure, and it would merely be a waiting game. In that case, she could be patient. 

“Perhaps the astrologer can be persuaded with coin,” she suggested mildly. Gysella did not know if such a suggestion would be taken as offensive — there were many who would place their greed above faith, and she would be open to supplying a hearty payment of gold if it meant that he might see the stars in a different alignment. Of course, to enter into such a relationship would create a precarious situation should the information ever come to light. She did not want her reputation to suffer for it. 

“Our families were wise when they suggested this union.” It was a sentiment she never would have imagined herself to say aloud — it was a far cry from the attitude she’d had months prior when she’d arrived on that boat with her trunks of gold, feeling thoroughly abandoned by anyone she’d ever thought had loved her. “They’ve since become foolish. We will have to take over for them, pick back up where their sense has abandoned them.”

“As I said, it’s just as well that I don’t need to share it.” He popped a bite into his mouth, trying not to look curious as she tried the next thing. He’d been in charge of their menus when they weren’t dining with his parents, and while she’d always insisted that she wanted to try the foods of Cayb, he often wondered what things she actually liked or didn’t like. It was Konu’s experience, after all, that the right foods could ease the path to friendliness. 

It was a relief to see that she liked the sweeter dish, and he made mental note of that. She liked sweets. Cayb didn’t have a unified cuisine so much as many regional ones, and some of those were rather sweeter in palate than others. Thus, it would be in line with her request to give her some of the foods from those regions, wouldn’t it? He certainly thought so. 

It probably should not have surprised him, her interest in The Church. They had clear sway over his mother, after all, and as Queen, she was the most powerful person in the court. Surely, Gysella knew how important the Church was. And even if she hadn’t, Konu himself had just admitted that they held great power, despite his wishing otherwise. Still, it discomforted him. First of all, that power imbalance was something he hoped he could change as king, not something he wanted Gysella to see as fixed. And second of all, he knew she was a spiritual woman, with faith in some god or gods from her people. He was no such thing. Wouldn’t that bother her? It was practically the opposite of finding a food she liked–showing a side of himself that he suspected she might not. 

“Followers are encouraged to pay to the Church leaders, but I’ve never heard of a devotee who doesn’t pay. It’s simply expected that they do, and they do.” He didn’t even really know what the penalty of not paying would be. It simply never came up, for better or for worse. “You, of course, would not be expected to, unless you should, err, convert, I suppose.”

Of course she wanted to meet them. Konu was sometimes surprised that Gysella didn’t come to meet him dressed for battle. However, her assurance of his power–their power–was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps she would not be so bothered at his lack of faith as he had feared. He knew, instantly, that there was a political answer he could give. The Church, after all, was popular. And yet, he found himself giving an honest answer instead. “I would like to think so, yes.” 

Her brows furrowed as she put together his words, and she shook her head at the word convert. “I would like to be a good wife and good Queen,” she said carefully, “but I cannot turn my back on my faith.” It wasn’t to say that she believed the faith of Cayb to be false. On the contrary, her belief in a pantheon of deities suggested to her that certainly there could be more that existed outside of her knowledge — only, she didn’t think that the Cayvish would look on her Gods with the same open-mindedness. Their belief in “The One” was, to her, somehow both foolish and arrogant.

Gysella did not find herself to be overtly pious, but she believed unquestioningly in the reality of the Gods she prayed to, and was wary of bringing forth their wrath. It wasn’t to say that she did not believe she had free will — she thought she could do most anything, only sometimes it felt necessary to pray or offer sacrifice in order to maintain good standing with the Gods. It would be some time in her education before she would feel confident enough to have any sort of intelligent debate or conversation with Konu on the subject, but her inclination was that he was not so reverent as she. As he said himself, he believed the country had thrived when the Church had not been so all-powerful. She was not bothered by this so much as curious: he did not seem to have any natural desire for power, and yet he opposed the power which threatened him. She wondered if something might be done with that, to inspire a firmer desire to rule. Gysella did not seek a power-hungry tyrant for husband, but someone powerful enough to hold his own was of importance to her. She did not want to be the wife of a weak man. 

“It is good for people to have faith and be united,” she mused, pausing to eat more from the dish before her. She did so more to spare some extra time to find her words, rather than out of any true hunger. “But they can be just as well united as countrymen, rather than in faith.” She smiled at Konu, and added: “people should pay their tax to their King before their priest, you know?”

It was, perhaps, best that this whole affair had occurred in the Western Capital, where he’d been since slightly before her arrival. Had he been in the Eastern Capital–his preferred home–he would have spent his time after arguing with his mother in his falconry tower, avoiding either his mother or Gysella, which he could see now would not have helped. Well, it would have helped him, as his birds were generally agreeable, but it would not have helped Gysella. Leaving her to fend for herself would hardly be fair.

Even as it was, she was bearing the brunt of her family, who seemed as bad as his, at least. He could understand her frustration. That was probably why he offered what he offered next: “If it would help, I can join you. I will even write my words so I can have them translated beforehand.” Her efforts to learn Cayvish, after all, had gone far better than his to learn her language. Though he managed rudimentary phrases, he was still not eloquent, or even truthfully passable.

She, on the other hand, could boil down an intensely complicated situation into a handful of words, almost poetic in their own right. The more she spoke, the more impressive she became. “They have,” he responded, smiling and exhaling as if he’d been holding his breath. Perhaps he had. “And I fear that we will have little help in fixing what they have broken.”

He didn’t just mean the war-torn nations themselves–though that weighed on his mind. Cayb had been weakened by the war, more than even he had admitted to her. Likely, more than the King or Queen had admitted to him. It would take an incredible ruler to restore her to her glory, and he did not believe himself to be that ruler, much as he wanted to be.

Despite his own insecurities, though, her demand, as it were, appealed to him. Konu did not feel himself to be the perfect choice for king; but he did not feel his parents to have been perfect rulers either. Especially as the years wore on and his mother became more erratic–the offer of freedom from that was a good one. He knew he should probably stipulate something for Cayb itself, as he knew being king meant putting country first, and yet, he didn’t really care. “Of course,” he promised. “And–” he paused. Sometimes, his awkward, stilted speech was not the fault of the language barrier, but his own inability to find the correct words. “And I hope to start that commitment sooner. Before we’re wed. Now, even, as much as I can.”

A small smile appeared on Gysella’s lips as Konu offered to accompany her to speak with her mother and uncle, but she shook her head to decline. “Your offer is kind, but I think it would be best that I speak with them alone.” The conversation, she knew, would be unpleasant. She anticipated that her uncle would quickly become loud and boisterous — and potentially dismissive of what it was she had to say. Her goal would be to simply prevent him from acting impulsively in a way which might permanently damage any attempt at keeping the alliance afloat. Her mother, she expected, would be far more passive-aggressive with the issue. The superiority with which she carried herself about the Cayvish court was sure to worsen, which she hoped to prevent from becoming an offense to Konu’s mother. She did not need to provide the woman with any more reasons to delay the wedding. 

“Perhaps after I have spoken to them, we can arrange another meeting,” she suggested. “At that time, your words might be more appreciated by them. And I would appreciate if instead you spoke with your mother — maybe there is something that they are missing in the stars.” From what Konu had explained it sounded as though it would be a challenge for anyone outside of this astrologer to get through to his mother, but that did not mean it wasn’t worth the attempt. Gysella also wondered if it might be worth it to arrange a meeting between this astrologer and herself — though she did not voice the thought.

The smile on Gysella’s lips flattened when Konu suggested his belief that there was little hope to fix the mistakes of their families. “I do not believe that,” she replied, her tone suggesting her seriousness. “I cannot believe that — I left my life and family behind for this purpose. I will not allow their errors to plague this new life. They have bent and broken our countries with their squabbles, but we have the opportunity to mend and grow.” She could do precious little for promoting the prosperity of the Golden Isles, but she could make Cayb into a country worthy of what it was she had to offer. She needed only to convince the current powers to step aside and empower her to do so. 

Konu had not expected to learn much of anything from dining with Gysella. They had, after all, taken meals together regularly since her arrival. Almost every meal, truthfully, no matter how awkward and stilted conversation was at the beginning. However, it seemed there were still things to learn about her through sharing a meal. First, that she didn’t like this sort of savory dish. Given the way her face twisted up, and she immediately turned to something else, he could say comfortably that she preferred a sweeter taste. Second, that she had clearly been trained–as he had–to lie in such situations. Though he certainly hoped he was better at it than she. 

Then again, he couldn’t seem to hide his reaction to hers. A small bubble of laughter, really more of a chuckle, but one he did not successfully stifle. “You needn’t lie,” he told her. “I’d rather have the whole dish to myself anyway.” Carefully, he lifted the apparently offending plate, moving it directly in front of his own, and shifting something sweeter closer to her in its stead. “Try that one. It isn’t my favorite, but maybe we will be complementary in our choices.”

Konu wondered whether Gysella bristled at the carefully crafted answers that came out of him. He didn’t generally mean anything secretive in these answers. It was merely that he’d been expected to be king for so long, it was practically ingrained for him to speak this way. A practiced habit, no matter how little he felt it suited him. For her, that was probably strange. After all, it didn’t seem as though anyone could well expect to be king under her father, with his favor being the deciding factor. Unless everyone expected to be king, in which case everyone would be overly-careful in their words and no one was free to speak casually. What a frustrating position to be in.

“The Church is ever growing stronger, it seems. Even when I was a child, it did not carry the weight it has now. But it’s grown quite wealthy as its members pay tithe to it and, well, Cayb–” He paused on his words here. Surely, by now, she had noticed the importance her dowry had played in their match. “Cayb’s growth has not matched the Church’s.” There. That was true. 

Her other question was rather a more delicate one. It did not lend itself well to an easy answer. “You can meet them whenever you like, if you’re anxious,” he said, sidestepping the issue of their opinion while he gathered his thoughts on it. “But if you’re in no hurry, they will come at the next festival of theirs. I believe there’s one at the end of the month.” He believed, because he did not know, because he did not partake. He should, and it made him a worse king that he did not, but it was hard to stay when they spoke of things he simply didn’t have the faith for.

“They–as I said, their wealth has grown, and with it, their power. An alliance between our kingdoms ends the war, but it also means less money spent on a war, and–uh, well.” He took a long drink of his tea, searching for an answer. For all his flaws as a politician, he knew when to think before he spoke, at least. “The Golden Islands are quite wealthy, and so the marriage bolsters Cayb’s wealth, which Church leadership feared would lessen their own power. They did not oppose you, per se, but they were not happy about the alliance. I suspect that their loss of power was way.” He didn’t mention that he’d heard words thrown around like heretics or unholy. It did no good, as those concerns were deemed less important than ending the war. 

A warm bloom of color rose in Gysella’s cheeks when Konu noticed — quite easily — that the food had not been to her tastes despite her having said otherwise. She was embarrassed to have been called out for telling a lie — even a small lie — and was swift in trying to formulate a response: “it is not that I do not — do not — do not, ah...” 

The discomfort at having been caught made it difficult for her to find words, and she sputtered for a short moment before finding the words to say: “...enjoy it, only, it is different.” A little exasperated, she finished with a brief reflection in the Golden tongue: “it is a very unusual taste.” She smiled, a little tight-lipped in the aftermath of her brief embarrassment and subsequent frustration, and took the plate he offered to her as a replacement of the other meal. “Thank you,” she said, careful with her pronunciation in an attempt to make up for brief lapse of communication. Delicately, she took a spoonful of the new dish offered to her and tasted it — resolved to like it, regardless of the actual flavor. To her great relief, the sweetness of the dish genuinely appealed to her, and she gave an appreciative hum as she swallowed.

Though she was relieved to find the plate palatable, she was significantly more eased by Konu’s apparent willingness to continue to speak upon the church. The plate was forgotten as he spoke of the increasing power of religion in the nation, and the narrowed gaze she regarded him with suggested the close attention she was paying him. 

“All who follow the faith must give them coin?” It was hardly an uncommon notion, though one which Gysella’s people did not practice exactly — they provided offerings to their gods, sometimes in coin, but it was not a mandate handed down by the faith. It could not be done in such a way, as different islands — and sometimes even different villages amongst the isles — worshipped separate deities. The temples and worshippers of one town might expect all of its people to give some share of their crops or coins in reverence of their gods, while another might simply demand days of prayer. 

When Konu suggested that the church’s expansion had outpaced that of Cayb itself, she raised a brow. She was aware of the importance of the gold offered by her dowry — and though the country had not appeared to her to be impoverished, it did lack some of the extravagance of her home country. She wondered if this promise of money threatened the church, which in turn would mean that she would be viewed by the church as a threat. 

For a brief moment, Konu felt as though he could see a life laid out before him: one in which he was always trapped in between the demands of his Mother, his wife, and her family. The constant navigating would surely wear him down eventually. It was, in short, a miserable vision of a miserable life. Fortunately, he was able to shake it off quite quickly. Most important, that vision did not show Cayb prospering following an end to the war, which he was certain would happen. But also there was the fact that Gysella had proven herself wise and generally stable, and at least acted as though she wanted to work with him, not against him. It would not be him being pulled in all three directions; it would be them, together, pulled in two. That was better, wasn’t it?

In order for it to work, though, he would have to assure her that she was not at fault. This blame would only turn into resentment, after all. “It isn’t anything you’ve done,” he told her, stepping cautiously closer to her. When he’d presented the bath house, it had been with several feet of distance between them. Such space felt appropriate when she’d been so icy toward him, but it was not a good way to hold a meaningful conversation. “The astrologer reads the stars.” Or so he says, was not a helpful thing to add. Konu bit his tongue. “It’s like–it’s like your offerings on your ship. The One will not smile on the marriage if it is performed under a bad star, so we must wait for a good star to rise.”

Konu had never successfully reasoned with the astrologer before, and his mother’s demands had become ever more erratic since she’d taken the man on. Both were true. It didn’t stop him from trying lately. He wanted to be married so Gysella’s family could go home and they could begin the work of caring for his land. Strangely, he also wanted to be married so he could be married. Even as their relationship had begun to strain under the weights of both families, he’d developed a fondness for Gysella, at least.

Which was, perhaps, why, at her offer to stay with her, the tips of his ears heated up to a soft pink. An objection formed at the tip of his tongue that it was not proper–that was not how her ritual was done–and yet he kept it to himself. This was not him taking Geun’s advice, per se, but some time together wouldn’t hurt, would it. “As you like,” he answered. The words rang too-hollow, too-formal in his own ears, and he nearly flinched. “I, uh, I look forward to this time with you.”

Gysella imagined that Konu’s words — it isn’t anything you’ve done — were designed to comfort her, but they instead earned a frown in response. She made the assumption that from Konu’s perspective, it was a good thing that at the very least, she’d not directly caused the issue that now faced them. Though their wedding had not yet apparently received the astrological blessing of their God, Gysella being removed from the blame allowed her to continue to maintain a relatively healthy relationship with his mother; and furthermore allowed her to remain in good standing at the court. From Gysella’s perspective, it was another source of frustration: though she did not want to be at fault for their delayed nuptials, if she were there would ideally be an avenue to remedy the problem. There was nothing that she could do to expedite the astrologer’s interpretation of the stars, and so she was condemned to sit and wait — and hope that her father did not grow too anxious in this time. 

The Princess was aware that to be dismissive of Konu’s mother’s faith was intensely hypocritical — it was just as Konu said, after all: their reverence of the stars was not at all unlike the offerings that her people had sacrificed to the Gods which dwelled in the ocean in order to ensure their safe travel to Cayb. Still, she could not understand why there would be any reason for some preternatural force to frown upon their union: did their God prefer death and destruction as opposed to the peace and prosperity that their solidified alliance promised?

“I will speak to my mother and uncle upon our return,” Gysella said, a sigh following the words. It would be an undoubtedly unpleasant conversation, but it was one which would be necessary. At present, there was no way of knowing when the stars would align favorably and Konu’s mother would permit them to wed: if Gysella did not intervene and attempt to soothe her insulted uncle, he would undoubtedly soon return to the Golden Isles with words of resuming war on his lips. And if she did not address the issue swiftly, she was just as likely to lose her mother as an ally. Though the older woman was eager to have some power as the mother of a Queen,  it would not benefit her position in the Golden Isles to be the mother of the King’s failure of a daughter. With her own family, the only option allotted to her was to control their anger as best she could. 

With the Cayvish court, she had no option but to acquiesce to their rituals and pray heartily to her own deities that change would come swiftly. These limited choices troubled Gysella, who hated to feel like something of a puppet, operated by the generation above her. She voiced this irritation, remarking: “we are being controlled by a generation which has failed our nations with war and blood.” 

It was a true relief to find that Gysella wanted to spend time with him as badly–so it seemed, from her initial reaction–as he wanted to spend it with her. Konu didn’t know if she responded that way out of enthusiasm for building some sort of bond with him, or obligation to him if she was treating him like some many-wifed king from her country for whose attention she must compete, or fondness for the library, or some other reason. Frankly, he had no way of telling and couldn’t bring himself to care. What mattered was that she wanted to agree, and that meant he was doing something half-right, at least. “I agree,” he said, not bothering to hide the smile on his face. “It is good for us to spend time together.”

Part of what Konu had been trying to understand was how her relationship to her gods could change. He simply struggled whenever she tried, or Geun tried, to explain it. The One, in all her might, was fixed, or so the holy books said. How could Gysella flit so easily from one go to the next? She hardly seemed flighty or fickle to him. Yet, he nodded anyway, trying to at least put on a show of understanding. Maybe as her language improved, he would work up the will to ask her to explain it. “I look forward to hearing. And maybe,” he hedged. “You could explain to me more about them. I would like to know why you, uh, favor one god over another.” He had no idea if those were the right words, but hopefully, if not, she would not take too much offense.

As to whether he was a believer, Konu hoped the only visible sign of his nervousness was the way he picked at napkin, worrying one corner of it. Otherwise, the diplomatic answer came tumbling out of his mouth, practically as rehearsed. “Faith in The One is an important part of life in Cayb, and the Chruch is very powerful. If I am to lead Cayb, of course I must be a part of these beliefs.” His voice dropped in volume–this part of the conversation was, hopefully, for her ears alone. “That said, there was a time when there were many powerful faiths, before the one Church became the most powerful. It was long ago but–well, the way it’s described, the empire was thriving. I am no historian, but it seems to me that that may be good for the country as well.”

By this time, the table was piled high with food. He watched as Gysella took her first bite, not realizing that he’d been waiting for her to do so, like this was a formal court meal, when it was not. Perhaps she’d been waiting for him as well? They would need to communicate better. Still, he smiled with some relief when she seemed pleased by the food. “Oh, I like these,” he answered, picking up one of the few savory dishes. “I don’t even know what it’s called, but they always sell it, and I am afraid that if I ask, they will feel obliged to tell me, as future king, when it is their family’s secret recipe or something.” He took a bite, and the sigh that followed was one of sincere enjoyment. This was truly delightful food.

Gysella smiled and nodded when Konu suggested that at some point she might be more willing to explain more of her faith to him, and why she might choose to worship particular deities. Despite the apparent willingness she presented with, the Princess was determined to delay such a conversation until she reached a point where she not only felt significantly more confident in her ability to communicate in Cayvish, but also knew the best way to answer his curiosities. Somehow, she doubted he would be impressed by her explanation of her early worship of her culture’s goddess of beauty and passion; which aligned nicely with many a sordid tale of her youth as a good-will ambassador for the King across his isles. She imagined he would be less impressed with her worship of their deity of battle and bloodshed — and even less so by the many nights she spent bowed in prayer begging for triumph over the Cayvish forces. 

Perhaps she would tell him when they were already married, or when she was already pregnant with his child. At that point, he was likelier to be assured of her loyalties. 

Gysella followed Konu’s lead as he pointed out a dish that he preferred, and went out of her way to settle down the food she had been sampling for favor of the one that he liked. While he sighed in enjoyment, Gysella took a sizable bite for herself. She found that the flavor which washed over her tongue was not one that she particularly liked — she tried to reason that it was not bad, only a taste she was largely unfamiliar with — but she nonetheless offered a smile and a nod to suggest that her impression was otherwise. Her smile may have been a bit pinched at the ends, her eyes perhaps creased with a contained grimace; she hoped that Konu would be none the wiser. “I like it,” she lied, before not-so-subtly returning to the plate she’d been eating off of. 

Eager to pivot off of their disagreeing palettes, Gysella focused her attention onto Konu’s explanation of his relationship with the country’s religion. He spoke in very simple terms, which she imagined he did for her benefit, rather than for lack of more impressive diction. From what she could discern, he did not answer her question so much as spoke to the importance of religion as a whole, and the role of the Church beside the crown. Though she was still curious to understand his true feelings, she could not begrudge him his decision to circumvent her question — after all, she’d done essentially the same thing to him. 

“Of course,” he answered immediately. “My mistake.” It didn’t matter that he’d been told to expect her nearly two weeks before she’d arrived, nor that he’d been dragged–practically kicking and screaming–from his home to the Western Capital an additional week early for then-unnamed “preparations” which mostly consisted of watching his parents agonize over how best to hide the state of the treasury. No, his goal here was to make amends, not start an argument over what their original wedding date was. “Still, we would have been married by now, if it had all been different.”

“It’s definitely not.” The words blurted out of him before he could help himself. He’d tried so hard, so very, very hard not to indict his mother in any of this, to keep her clear of blame even when it was so clearly her fault. That was between him and her–dragging Gysella into it would only set her up for failure as queen. It would be best for her to remain The Queen’s good graces, even if it put him in a terrible position. He cleared his throat, looking away and putting forth the royal composure he’d spent years learning. “That is, I believe my wishes align with yours– a quick end to the concerns from the astrologer, and with it, an end to the war.” They spoke of it infrequently, the war. There wasn’t much to say, really, except that their marriage was supposed to end it, and now, that deal felt balanced precariously on their personal relationship. Not a good situation for either country.

The fact that the ritual was supposed to be morning was something he knew, yes, but not something he’d specifically accounted for. “Ah, yes, well, I’d sort of, uh, thought  you could do it in the morning. You can sleep next-door, and we passed an inn I could stay at. It didn’t say in our books where the groom is supposed to be.” A lie–it did, but it referred to some sort of house that Cayb didn’t have a direct translation for. The loan-word used meant nothing, and when he asked his brothers, Geun told him he should stay with Gysella instead, and Min said he didn’t believe in surprises and that the best person to ask would be Gysella. Useless, as always. “I’m happy to do whatever needs to be done to do the ritual as closely as we can, though,” he did add, to be safe.

Gysella settled some when Konu did not argue her point on the initial timeline for her arrival at Cayb. She distinctly recalled explaining to him the importance of sailors stopping in at the ports which dotted the shores of the islands which made up her homeland -- had they not stopped to pray and sink gifts into the ocean beneath them, it was all but assured that their ships would have been sunk as penance for affronting the Gods which lurked beneath the blue depths. She prevented herself from making any comment on Konu’s mention that they would have been married by now had things been different, though the desire to loose a snarky remark about the situation from her lips hovered mid-tongue. “Yes,” she said instead, “we would have.”

Despite her frustrations, she did believe Konu when he expressed that he wished for an end to both the concerns of the astrologer and the war. What she feared was a lack of understanding on the part of the Cayvish when it came to her father: the leader of the Golden Isles wished to appear at all times as the victor, and would not stand to be made a fool of if the wedding continued to be delayed. She knew he would rather be a warmonger than the object of sneers. She knew just as well that her Uncle may have preferred war at this point, and would have little qualms with whispering into his brother’s ear about her failings in Cayb. “I still do not understand why your astrologer is concerned,” she commented, “and if there is something that can be done to restore faith...I will do whatever it is that must be done. I do not wish to be a failure.” 

Gysella meant what she said: she did not want to fail her family, nor did she want to fail Cayb as their fledgling would-be Queen. She would take Konu’s gift -- which she could recognize as a genuinely kind gesture, even despite her lingering frustration -- as a sign of hope that things would turn once more in her favor. More than that, she would not allow the relationship between them to be set back any more than it had thus far: she wanted to be able to trust him, and to have him on her side as they navigated through the complications of their respective families.

Her definition made him frown. Still, he wanted to make an attempt to understand her at least equal to the one she made to understand him. He repeated the word back to her, tongue clumsily tripping over the foreign syllables. “Ge-o-gra-phy?” He searched for a word, almost embarrassed that the best he could come up with was: “Cartography? Making maps and stuff?” If that was what she meant, perhaps that was something he could help her to do. He was not as bad at plotting out land as he was at language, at least. He couldn’t be bad at everything after all. “Perhaps we can spend some time in the library looking at maps and planning trips together.” Hopefully, by the time such trips came to pass, they’d have fewer hiccups. Though, he had to admit, this trip was going far better than his fears had suggested it would.

Again, the idea of gods, even the sound of the word gods in the plural, was an odd one to Konu. Inasmuch as there was religion in Cayb, the largest one in the center of the country was devotion to The One, who had formed the world in harmony and Cayb at its apex. Like most families in the interior of the empire, Konu’s had paid lip service to Her all his life, though his mother’s newfound devotion ran far deeper than that. “I see,” he said, feigning more understanding than he felt. Her words were clear, at least. It was the concept that was strange to him. “And so…which god have you devoted yourself to? We can arrange something, I’m sure. I want you to feel you have control over your life.”

At the mention of their children and his religion, he resisted the urge to wither, though he did send a glance toward the kitchen, wishing food would come to provide him a distraction from the awkwardness. “We have customs, of course. And there’s–uh–as far as religion–” He took a deep breath, willing himself to explain. Better to be honest and upfront, while still respecting his mother and not painting her as a zealot. “The Queen is very firm in her beliefs in The One. I am less firm. I do not mind if we raise our children, uh, that is, with more flexible beliefs than the ones The Queen holds.” 

Her confusion read clearly on her face, though her understanding was impressively accurate. “Yes. That is, he does not want to talk about himself, so he doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to either. He’s giving you, uh, privacy.” He stretched that last word out, hoping she could hear the shared root between the two words he was trying to teach her. Hopefully, their food would come soon, offering both of them a break from attempting to talk.

Dutifully, Gysella watched with a narrowed gaze as Konu attempted to offer up a synonym to the word she’d been unable to find. She nodded when he provided the additional qualifier of maps, and silently mouthed the syllables of the new word he’d given her: cartography. She made a note of it, just as she’d taken note of any word that halted the burgeoning conversation between her intended and herself -- Gysella would take stock of it later on, and determine just how many more hours of lessons she’d need to add on to her current regiment. She had little time available to shame herself over her lack of vocabulary, though, when Konu suggested that they might spend some time in the library together. “Yes,” she said immediately, before continuing with a more subdued: “I think it is good -- to spend more time together, like this.”

Despite their occasionally stilted conversation and slight discomfort with one another, Gysella believed in the sentiment: if they were going to marry, to raise a family, and to rule a nation; they needed reasons to develop a fondness between one another. If they had that affection, they would only be stronger for it. It was different for her father, who ruled the Golden Isles as the sole monarch -- with his brood of wives taking turns circling into the role of Queen Consort depending upon his fancy. Even her mother had held no real power when she had been his prime consort: in a relationship ruled purely by lust and impulsivity, there was no promise of a future. 

But a future was what Gysella needed -- and she would put in the effort to build it for herself.

The Princess was quiet when Konu questioned which god she had devoted herself to, and considered her answer before saying anything. “These things change,” she commented vaguely, “when there are shifts in life. My life has changed, and so this must change too.” She would wait until her mother’s arrival at Cayb, Gysella resolved, and ask her opinion on the matter. “I will tell you when I know,” she said, “I promise.” 

As Konu went on to explain his own relationship with his religion -- which he did not explain so much as differentiate himself from his mother -- Gysella’s brow furrowed. “Are you a believer?” She asked, though his answer was delayed by the arrival of more food from the innkeeper, who settled down fresh tarts alongside the pastries that had been settled onto the table. 

Konu listened carefully, trying to form a mental map of the islands. He had little idea how long travel by water took, his only experience being some island-hopping trips as a youth around the coasts. But he knew how long her trip had taken, and he could attempt some calculation. “Perhaps,” he began, having formed a probably-inaccurate idea of the scale of her country, “you could show me. I am afraid our maps may be–” He froze, trying to phrase the end of his sentence delicately, so that she did not think he was calling her country small, or worse, that she might assure Cayb was a backward, uneducated country. “Out of date in that regard.” Her mention of the sailor stopping to pray did not surprise him. From the minimal studying he’d done, and conversations with her, he was beginning to understand that the Golden Islands were, at the very least, a religious people.  “Do you pray frequently before travel? We can arrange for a temple or special room if you need to do so.”

His mother, and her astrologer and priest, all prayed in the ground-level room, facing toward the mountains, so as to be closest to The One. Konu had always preferred the high towers in the mountains, a fitting metaphor for his views on religion in Cayb. 

When the inn owner left and Gysella’s insecure questions came out, he shook his head, wracking his brain for a definition. “No, no, he is not offended by you. He simply–ah.” He grumbled a very, very silent swear word, not a bad one but not one he necessarily wanted to define, either. He couldn’t manage to think of a synonym for private, so how was he to manage expletives. “Private, it’s when you don’t want to talk about yourself. Or, well, he doesn’t want to assume that you want to talk about yourself.” That was a terrible job. He was terrible at this. “That is, he is, uh, ‘minding his business.’ Have you heard that phrase?”

“I do not have a great eye for...” Gysella trailed off, and reluctantly allowed herself to finish the sentence in her mother tongue: “geography.” She would ask Gormon for the word when she next saw the translator, but tried to explain it as best she could in Cayvish: “...maps and islands. I am sorry, I do not have the word.” Her smile turned a bit sheepish, and she added: “but I would like to see it. Very much.” She had a fair understanding of the layout of the Golden Isles and had seen maps of it before, though she did not know if she would be talented enough to reconstruct one from memory alone. Still, she was interested to see what interpretations the Cayvish had of her home: she expected there to be some notable differences between how their respective people viewed the wealthy islands.

She nodded when he asked if she prayed often before travel. “We worship many gods,” she explained, “so many that only some leaders of the faith know all of their names. It is common to pray only to the gods who...have some control over your life.” So many people of the isles made their survival on the sea, that it seemed to outsiders that it was only the gods who controlled the winds and seas that received prayer and sacrifices. In reality, different islands boasted temples to different deities, and individual worshipers tended to favor a god of their choosing. Farmers prayed to gods which ruled the harvest, mothers prayed to the gods which ruled the hearth, maidens and young men prayed to the gods which ruled love and virility, and the elderly prayed to death. When she’d been a young princess of the Golden Isles, she’d been a devotee of their goddess of love and sexuality -- but when she’d briefly been positioned to become Queen of the Golden Isles, she’d shifted her devotion to the deity which ruled over war and conquest. She was reluctant to share this with Konu, given that she’d prayed often for the destruction of him and his family before she had been promised to him.

She did not know where she stood now: she could not in good conscious pray for conquest when peace had been sued for, but wondered if an outward return to her previous devotion would be viewed by the Cayvish as lewd or improper. Still, she also wondered if it was best to pray to the god who presided over marriage and fertility. 

“I will think on it,” she finally answered. “I would also like to learn more of your religious customs. When we have children, they will be raised with Cayvish customs,” she mused. “I would like to still be part of it -- and so I should know more about it.”