ascension

“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.”

To his question, she hummed a note of amusement, and answered: “in all ways outside of lawful, we should treat one another as if we are married. We should share our bed.” Her expression reflected some grim humor, and she added: “perhaps you should give me a child — we might shame them into a wedding.” 

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.

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?”

Sighing, she dismissed the conversation with a wave of her hand. “This talk is difficult — the words escape me, and I do not wish to sound like a fool. Where else shall we go? Where are you happy? That, I would like to see.” 

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.

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. 

It was relieving in that sense that Konu appeared willing to offer his commitment to her, and the seriousness of her faded some for favor of a pleased smile. “Good,” she said, taking his hand in her own. “I can wait for the wedding if I have that much — and I will treat you as a husband now, and you are free to treat me as a wife.” 

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. 

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. 

“I should like to meet their leaders very soon,” she resolved. Though it embarrassed her, she knew that she would bring her translator to this meeting: she would not risk any chance of having miscommunicated or misunderstood something said by these people. “They must know I will not be intimidated by them or their power. The power of the crown should be absolute — do you not agree?” 

“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.”

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.” 

Leveling Konu with her dark gaze, she pressed: “I will not create conflict for you and your mother while we await the stars. But when we are married…our loyalty will be to one another. Not to our parents, and their politics, and their beliefs. Can you make that commitment to me?”

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.

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. 

“That is a very…political way to say it,” Gysella replied finally, an approving smile curling round her lips. “The Church is very strong here,” she observed, “what do they think of me?” She did not doubt that the high ranking members of the faith, who apparently wielded some political power in the region, had either expressed some opinion or played some role in this alliance-brokering marriage. She wondered if they had been a voice in favor of it, or against it. “When will I be introduced to the Church leaders?” 

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.

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.

“Traditionally, the man is to stay with his family,” Gysella said. “But, as your family is not here…I think that it would be fine if you stayed with me. If you are comfortable with it.”

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.

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. 

“Thank you,” Gysella said, though she remembered thereafter that the man sought privacy, and so perhaps she’d been better off not saying anything at all. She decided instead to turn her attention onto the food they’d thus far neglected, providing Konu again with the opportunity to not answer the question that she had asked of him. Lifting up one of the pastries, she curiously examined the colorful fruits layered into the dough before taking an investigative bite. A pleased hum escaped her, and she commented: “tasty, as you said. Which do you prefer?”

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.”

“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.”

Konu’s definition of private clearly puzzled her, and the princess fixed him with a furrowed brow as she tried to understand what it was that he was saying. “He does not want to talk about himself, or he does not want me to talk about myself?”

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.” 

Gysella couldn’t help but smile in response to Konu’s words. Nothing about his confident tone suggested that he was embellishing in order to soothe her. Though the two still did not know one another particularly well, Gysella had yet to see anything to suggest that Konu was anything but honest. His assurance that she would be liked by his people caused a warmth to bloom in her stomach – part affection, and part embarrassment. Konu’s assurance in her aptitude to be Queen appeared to stand in stark contrast to the way she’d reacted when he’d professed to not be particularly enthused about his role as future King. The language barrier between the two of them made it difficult for the foreign princess to attempt an apology – and besides that, she thought one at this stage might make things worse, rather than better. She did not want to embarrass Konu any more than she might already have.

Instead, she resolved to find a way to prove her confidence in him, and restore some good faith.

“The travel to the island furthest from the capital takes several days,” Gysella explained slowly, choosing her words carefully: “it is not so far, but sailors stop often in ports to pray.” The kingdom of the Gods was said to dwell at the depths of the ocean, and it was believed by many superstitious seamen that the sometimes-vengeful deities did not favor boats which lingered too long on the open waters, and would send water sprites to to the ocean’s surface to lure boats onto deathly paths. Her own travel to Cayb had been delayed by such practices – the captain of the ship had only relented when Gysella’s retinue had agreed to sink a barrel of hippocras and several pieces of gold in offering to the gods. 

The arrival of the inn’s owner caught Gysella’s attention, and when the other man turned his attention onto her she offered a more reserved smile. The man’s response seemed less than interested, and the smile dropped off Gysella’s face when he simply turned and walked away from her. She’d took notice of how he’d addressed Konu with his proper title, whereas he’d said nothing to her at all. 

“Is he offended by me?” Gysella asked, her brows knit as she glanced back at the owner, who’d retreated from their table. She realized she did not recognize the word Konu had used, and turned her attention back onto him. “What do you mean, private?”

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.