It had been a long time indeed since I'd eaten on proper porcelain, to the tune of tinkling silver and the flickering of slender candles. All that was missing was music, though Frederico's wife was doing a good job of filling the silence on her own. She fluttered about the room, in a dress that dripped with lace and whose skirts were so wide that she nearly upended the servants at every turn. She cooed about the children and served Frederico with more food than three men could eat, a cloud of orange flower perfume in her wake.
Genevieve Desjardins, the countess of Belmont, was the antithesis to every Ardalonian woman I'd ever met. She wore her kindness on her sleeve, doling out hugs and air kisses to everyone who sat at her ornate, polished table. She dipped a perfect, courtly curtsey to me before I could stop her, and it seemed her only desire for the evening was for everyone to be well-fed.
"Eat up, Rafa mon cher," she chided, as she spooned another ladle of boeuf bourguignon onto his place before handing the gilt silver tureen back to the servant trailing her. "When you eat, you encourage the children.Vas-y."
"The food is delicious," I offered as she fluttered past me, depositing another warm, crusty roll onto my side plate.
Her face split with a smile that exposed her teeth – crooked, but white. "You flatter me, your Highness. Though I cannot claim such a compliment for myself. I will pass it on to my cook, so she may know she has served and satisfied three royal houses."
"Sit down," Frederico said in Ardal, when she did another tour of the table to bring him a fourth roll. He took her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap, at which she squealed in delight. He continued, "All this fussing is going to make my commanders go soft."
"All this food will make your commanders go soft," Beatriz said, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she devoured another morsel of beef from her dish. "I miss Vareinne. Such delicious food."
"Even better wine." Rafael agreed.
No poison taster, I'd almost put in, remembering the first time I'd eaten beside Beatriz. But my gaze had shifted to Rafael, whose own meal cooled as he coaxed little Gabriele into eating. The boy was seated atop a stack of cushions so he could reach the table and still he only stared, silent, and obediently opened when Rafael approached his mouth with a spoonful of stew.
"You should never have left, sister," Genevieve replied, in her accented Ardal. "Think of all the messes we could have avoided." Her eyes darted to me for the barest of moments before she pivoted around to beckon for someone to refill Frederico's glass.
Finally, some dinner talk and courtier's games I could wrap my head around.
I took a sip of wine, savoring the deep notes of currant and chocolate. "What messes, comtesse?" I asked innocently, my gaze a keen challenge.
"The mess your brother left for me," Frederico responded, his hand tightening around Genevieve's waist.
To her credit, the countess did not flinch at my words. Nor did she cower from holding my gaze. All she did was still for a moment, tilting her head.
"Prince Andrew's story is so romantic though." Genevieve sighed, leaning back against Frederico, who was glaring at me over the countess' shoulder. "How can you fault a man for moving the Earth and the moon for his beloved? I know you'd do the same, Coco."
I nearly sputtered on my wine at the nickname. But no one seemed to notice, because as soon as Frederico's face had softened at Genevieve's words, she erupted into another whirlwind of activity, insisting that Rafael's uncles' empty plates be replenished. The two older men had simply watched her flutter about the room, incredulous and silent. After all, they'd only learned of Frederico's marriage fairly recently, and the woman hosting us was not at all the kind of woman I'd imagined Frederico would marry in secret, against his father's wishes. I'd assumed he'd have picked some brooding, severe woman cut from the same cloth as he. Instead, he'd chosen a kindly butterfly.
"We're not here to discuss love stories, amor." Frederico said, when Genevieve settled again. "We need to make a plan before my sister can act."
"Oh, hush." Genevieve swatted his hand where it still rested against her waist."Save such talk for when the children are finished."
And so we ate to the sounds of Genevieve's enthusiastic hosting until Teodoro, Valentina, and Gabriele had all eaten their fill of stew, fresh bread, and the berry custard that followed it. Genevieve and Rafael escorted the three of them upstairs, with Gabriele's little fist clutched in Genevieve's ample skirts.
When our plates were cleared and a bottle of cognac was opened – with only Rafael's uncles partaking of the fragrant spirit – Frederico folded his hands and leaned forward onto the table. "We need to decide where we wage the war that is coming."
"Ardalone, obviously." Beatriz said, leaning back in her chair after having devoured more bowls than I could count of dinner.
"Not quite so obviously," Josepe corrected. "We have an advantage here. If we coax Dulciana's troops through the pass, they would have the cliffs at their backs while we attack."
"That would mean giving away the camp," Frederico said.
"But it would also mean avoiding Ardalone's navy and Relizia's cannon," Vicente replied. "We are closest to your allies' supply here. There are clearly Bazerans among them, too. We have all that we need right here. Why give up such optimal terrain?"
"Because the prize Frederico wants is not to secure Vareinne's border, it's to secure Relizia." I cut in. "If we meet Dulciana's forces here, we'll have to chase them all the way back to Relizia, which will give her time to estimate our numbers, feel out our weaknesses, and stage the final battle on terrain she can modify to her own advantage before we so much as get there."
Frederico assessed me, as Vicente grumbled about more Ardalonian casualties. Rafael slipped back in, with Genevieve on his heels. She ignored the chair that had sat empty beside Frederico all through dinner and settled on his lap again. His fingers worried at the embroidery on her bodice before she stilled them with a touch of her own.
"Then what?" Josepe demanded. "We march our army through forests and fields to meet her on that same terrain after giving her plenty of time to prepare for our arrival? Have you not noticed the size of this force? Do you not realize how long it will take for them to–"
"You don't march them all together." I interrupted, turning my gaze to the blustering uncle. "You send the commoners ahead, in small groups. Nothing that could rouse suspicion. They're the element of surprise because Dulciana has always and will always underestimate them. You sneak your army in right under her nose. And then, when they're all in place, you strike."
The room fell silent. All except for one of Genevieve's tinkling bracelets as she reached for Frederico's wine glass and took a sip.
"It's risky. All it takes is one loose tongue and she'll learn our plan. Besides, she's closed the city." Frederico said finally.
"With war looming, commoners flock to cities. She won't be able to turn them all away, and even if she does, at least they'll be closer to Relizia while they wait for us."
"While they wait." Frederico chewed on the words, then finally shook his head. "No, I don't like it. I won't put their lives in danger. They're peasants, not soldiers. If any word of our plan gets out, they'll be slaughtered without an army to back them."
I threw my napkin onto the table, so frustrated I slipped out of Ardal. "Then what do you propose? We march as a host on Relizia while Dulciana digs in and pleads her case to the other continental kings? You're running out of time, Freddy."
At the nickname, Genevieve tilted her head and studied me over her wine glass.
Beside her empty chair, Beatriz leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. "There's more than one right way to go about this."
"There is," Frederico said, as I pulled the weight of my gaze from him and settled it onto Beatriz. To her credit, she simply shrugged, as if I was the one who ought to acknowledge that fact rather than attempt to convince them how utterly wrong they all were.
Frederico continued, "I agree that we need people within the walls of Relizia. It is a fortress city for a reason, so to have commoners on the inside, able to spread word of my approach and my promise to them – that I will never rule with the iron fist of my father – will be crucial. But Dulciana will have spies among the commoners as well, so I cannot risk sending them all. The rest will travel in squadrons, with their Vareinnian captains, so they may trai–"
"Non." Genevieve punctuated the word with the thud of her wine glass as she set it on the table and extricated herself from Frederico's lap.
"Non?" Frederico repeated, as she shifted away and settled into the chair at his side.
"Your sister cannot know that Vareinne is helping you."
"I hate to break this to you, comtesse, but Dulciana already knows about your marriage." I said.
Her lashes fluttered before she fixed me with a cool, calculating gaze that was utterly at odds with the warm, welcoming woman she'd been throughout dinner. She slipped into Pretania. "A marriage is one thing, Your Highness. But the knowledge that the Vareinnian throne is actively supporting Frederico would have the Ardalonian navy sailing for Brévis."
The navy...
"But dearest," Frederico began, reaching for Genevieve's hand before I interrupted him.
"Then that's exactly what we should do."
An affronted gasp escaped Genevieve's lips, but she let Frederico take her hand nonetheless. Beatriz folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.
"Did you not hear her Highness?" Vicente muttered.
I continued, undeterred. "If Dulciana sends her navy for Brévis, it won't be around to defend Relizia. She wouldn't be so foolish as to send all of her armada, but she might send half. And half is no match for Pretania and Vareinne together. My navy could cut them off and keep them away from Relizia, while you take the palace."
"Non," Genevieve said again, this time with an angry shake of her head. "This is not our war to fight. It is Ardalone's."
"Do you think she'll accept Vareinne's humble apology for siding with her brother if we lose?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin. "This is war. There will be casualties. We can't keep pushing it off to spare this group and that group, unless we all want to end up dead. At some point, we'll have to take back what Dulciana took with blood and brutality, and there will be a cost."
"He's right," Frederico said. Genevieve yanked her hand out from his, but his mouth had hardened into a line. "It is a risk, for certain, but if we split the armada, we might stand a chance on sea. If she is distracted by Brévis, we may stand a chance on land."
Genevieve shifted, agitated in her seat, before she brushed her fingers across her forehead. "I see why you called him such a conniving bastard," she said, in what was supposed to be a whisper to Frederico, but loud enough for the entire table to hear.
"Cheers to nicknames, darling." I lifted my wine glass to her. "Perhaps I'll start calling you Genny."
Beatriz ducked her head, hiding her smile behind her wine glass.
"Only if you must, Tommy," Genevieve fired back, lifting her glass to me then draining it.
**A/N: As promised, another new character for you all to meet! But before I hear what you all think of Frederico's lovely wife, I want to thank you all for your super warm welcome back. You all certainly know how to put a smile on my face! :D
So...thoughts on Genevieve?
Also, what do you think of their plan? Do you think King Graham will send his navy?
As always, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment :) **