The War of The Magi : Book Two

Chapter Two

"Forgive me for not bowing, my Queen. My old bones have seen better days."

He bowed his head and over the talk of the crowd, Senea heard his bones creak and groan just from that one simple gesture. "It is a pleasure, Sir Hector, to finally meet you," she replied with a bow of her own head.

"Oh? Has this old lad spoken of me? I'm surprised, to be painfully honest." Sir Hector moved up another step, grinning at Lord Snowthorne. "Your son has turned into a fine young man, Lord Magnere. The offer of Lord Drit's daughter still stands, of course."

Magnar's entire body tightened as he gave a subtle shake of his head, eyes wide. "I believe my son has chosen to focus his intent on being the Queen's guardian. Perhaps, once the coronation has passed, we can discuss it again in a more formal setting." Lord Snowthorne was polite, courteous. Senea had never seen him with such a smile on his face.

"Best to hurry, she won't be young forever. His other daughters have all been wed already. But, as you said, a more formal setting. Forgive my departure, my Queen. I feel weak in the knees staring at such beauty. So much like your mother, of course." He bowed his head once more and hobbled down the steps, gripping onto a staff waiting for him at the end of the steps.

Senea turned in her seat to achieve a better look at Magnar, his eyes still filled with worry. "Not her, father. Please, don't even," he began to say before his father cut him off in a hushed voice.

"I would never put you in such a binding with someone so obsessed with cat pelts, Magnar."

Senea jolted her head towards Lord Snowthorne, a grin dancing on his face. "Cat pelts?"

Magnar bent closer, his eyes still on the crowd. "She has her dead cats skinned and formed into a blanket for personal use." He straightened back up, his head gesturing out in the crowd. Senea curled her nose up, her brow furrowing tight.

"Your grace," Lord Snowthorne warned and moved in front of her to block her view.

She shook her head, still shocked at what Magnar had informed her. "Sorry. I've never heard of that before. Are you sure it's not just rumors?"

Magnar looked down at her, half a smile rising on his face. "Perhaps. Last I saw her was four harvests ago and she was wearing a very thin cloak lined with tails."

Lord Snowthorne walked down the steps, grasping the wrist of another man. His hair was slicked back, the slightest bit of gray running through the shiny blackness. His eyes were just as dark, and they moved past Lord Snowthorne and directly at Senea. Thin brows rose up and he bowed his head before Lord Snowthorne moved back up the steps.

"Your grace," he said with another bow, "this is Sir Lement, Council member of the southwestern region."

Sir Lement stepped forward, flourishing his bow. As he straightened back up, a permanent grin plastered on his face, he clasped his hands together in front of him. "The pleasure is completely mine, my Queen."

Senea bowed her head, her hands tightening in her lap. "Thank you, Sir Lement. You're from Valland, correct?"

"Yes, my queen. The Lord and Lady send their regrets for not joining me. Far too much activity in the lands for them to be safely transported here." He took another step closer, on level with Lord Snowthorne. "Have you been?"

She shook her head, strands of hair floating in front of her face. "I haven't had the pleasure, yet. I look forward to travelling more of the lands once we are deeper into the vernal season."

Magnar was proud of Senea. She was composed, polite, kept her worries to herself. A vast improvement to her unease at the harvest festival. "Sir Lement, have you had the chance to partake in the Eternal Fire rite?" Lord Snowthorne gestured for Sir Lement to move down the small steps, causing Senea to notice a bit of a line forming.