Saltreave, in the ninth year of King Valdric's reign. The night Arveth Ormellan lost an eye.
"I WANT AN EYE IN RETURN!"
Griselda Sivrel's voice tears through the throne room of Saltreave.
Young Arveth stands motionless beside his mother, his face marked by blood and a bandage covering his lost eye. Not far away, Fionnuala's younger son hides behind her, while the elder watches the scene with a bruised face.
"My son has been mutilated!"
Griselda exclaims, turning to the king.
"And you would have me forget it all?"
"Griselda, enough!"
the king thunders, exhausted.
Fionnuala steps forward.
"It was Arveth who insulted my sons. He questioned their legitimacy!"
"Legitimacy?"
Griselda lets out an incredulous laugh.
"Do you truly have the nerve to speak of legitimacy?"
The silence that follows is laden with venom.
The chancellor watches carefully. The queen's sworn shield remains beside her. The old sea lords witness the dispute with indecipherable expressions.
And Kaelor Draeth, leaning against a column, watches the royal family destroy itself before his eyes.
Then Griselda speaks a name. Yours.
The queen turns toward the king's second-born daughter. For an instant, her expression changes. Behind the wrath appears something more intimate, almost maternal.
"You were with us when Arveth was a child. You know how much he has suffered. Tell him that we cannot allow this crime to go unpunished."
"Don't you dare involve her."
Fionnuala's voice is sharp. The elder princess fixes her gaze on her sister.
"For once, you might remember whose daughter you are. Our mother was Muirne Ormellan, not Griselda Sivrel."
Griselda pales.
"I raised her."
"And you made sure she forgot her mother."
"ENOUGH!"
the king roars.
But neither woman retreats.
For the first time since the argument began, Kaelor leaves the column. His pale eyes shift from Griselda to Fionnuala, then settle on you. A faint smile, devoid of mirth, curves his mouth.
"Extraordinary,"
he murmurs, loud enough to be heard.
"A prince has lost an eye and you have decided to tear a daughter apart between you."
Fionnuala shoots him a furious look. He does not seem to notice. He continues to observe you, intrigued by the impossible position in which the two women have placed you.
The king passes a hand over his face.
"My daughter,"
he says at last, in a tired voice.
"Do you have anything to say?"
Every gaze in the room converges on the second princess. Kaelor crosses the floor and puts himself between you and the court, one hand out, palm up.
"Say it to me first,"
he says.
"Plainly."