Melina Marchetta - Quintana of Charyn

‘No one is questioning the rights of your children, De Lancey,’ the Provincara of Jidia tried to placate.

‘It’s not enough,’ Vinzenzo of Avanosh shouted.

‘He’s the son of a Lumateran Flatland lord,’ the Provincaro of Sebastabol said. ‘How much more do we want? The Belegonians turned down our invitation to be here today. It will turn them green with envy to have our Quintana wed to the son of a Lumateran Flatland lord.’

‘Don’t trust a Lumateran,’ the Provincaro of Alonso said, eyeing Lucian. ‘They lie.’

This time Lucian stepped forward.

‘For the sake of a beloved wife, I will forgive my father-in-law’s words,’ Lucian said. ‘And offer a hand of friendship to my neighbours in Alonso.’

‘Your wife?’ Alonso shouted. ‘The one you sent back and then claimed was dead? And then let go to the palace? And where is she now? Is my daughter a toy to be passed around?’

‘Your daughter is a woman who makes her own choices, sir,’ Lucian said. ‘And it was her choice to sacrifice her safety for Quintana of Charyn in the valley, and it was her choice to rightfully travel here and settle the first mother and child of Charyn into their home. I would never ask my wife to choose me over her king.’

Lucian stepped forward and bowed to Quintana. ‘And I will always be indebted to Quintana of Charyn for allowing Phaedra to return.’

Froi was most impressed with Lucian.

‘So you married her again?’ Quintana demanded to know.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Good,’ she said, looking away.

‘We don’t trust this lad,’ Vinzenzo of Avanosh said, pointing to Froi. ‘He’s lied and he stole the Princess from under us in Paladozza. I was there.’

There was more hushed talk.

‘Louder!’ someone from the back called out. ‘We can’t hear.’

Froi felt as if he was part of a pantomime, placed in front of a crowd hungry for entertainment.

‘I was there, too,’ De Lancey said. ‘And I don’t recall her being stolen.’ He looked across at Quintana. ‘Stolen, Your Highness?’

The Nebian Provincaro spoke up. ‘If I may be so bold as to say that our Quintana may not be the best person to ask whether she was stolen or not?’

Finnikin made a rude sound of disbelief.

‘Can I be even bolder and ask why she can’t be asked?’ he shouted, for those at the back. ‘All we hear about is Quintana the brave, Quintana the mighty who broke the curse. It turns my queen’s stomach to hear all the praise. Yet here, a Provincaro calls her a dimwit who can’t answer a question about whether she believes she was stolen or not!’

Finnikin received a round of applause. The crowd liked the ginger King.

‘A dimwit?’ De Lancey asked the Nebian Provincaro.

‘I didn’t call her one at all,’ the man protested.

‘What of a dowry?’ the Provincara of Jidia demanded to know. ‘What has your son got to offer Charyn, Lord August?’

Finnikin translated, but first answered himself.

‘The benevolence of Lumatere,’ he said. ‘Is that not enough?’

‘And an invitation to your little king’s regent into the Belegonian court,’ Lord August said. ‘If I understand rightly, the Belegonians refused your offer to be part of today’s proceedings.’

Finnikin translated. The Provincari exchanged looks with each other.

‘Nothing more than what the Osterians are offering,’ the Nebian Provincaro said. ‘Haven’t they promised to assist making peace with the Belegonians?’

Froi couldn’t imagine what else Finnikin had to offer.

‘The valley,’ Lucian said, exchanging a look with Finnikin.

Froi shook his head with disbelief. ‘One moment!’ he shouted, ushering the Lumaterans aside. There was a sound of irritation from some of the Provincari and furious talking from the crowd. They wanted to hear every word.

‘Land?’ Froi whispered. ‘You’re giving them land? I’m not worth the valley.’

‘You’re worth a kingdom,’ Finnikin said, turning back to the crowd. He had a better chance of impressing them.

‘We offer the valley between Lumatere and Charyn,’ Finnikin shouted to the crowd.

There was a hushed silence. Even the Provincaro of Alonso was speechless.

‘With a stipulation,’ Finnikin said.

‘Charynite people, governed by Lumaterans?’ Vinzenzo of Avanosh scoffed.

‘Charynite people governed by their own Provincaro,’ Lucian said.

‘And the stipulation?’ Gargarin asked Finnikin.

‘That under no circumstance will the valley ever accommodate an army. Yours or ours.’

‘And what will you name the valley? Little Lumatere?’ Sol of Alonso scoffed.

Froi noticed Arjuro push through to the front of the crowd. He wondered if one of the lads had gone to find him. Arjuro had professed that he’d have nothing to do with this day, but here he was.

‘They will name it the Valley of Phaedra,’ Quintana said, her eyes meeting Lucian’s. Froi could see that Lucian was moved by her words.

‘I think my queen will approve,’ Lucian said quietly.

Vinzenzo of Avanosh was whispering to Sol of Alonso. Froi knew Avanosh could poison any bitter man’s heart, regardless of what was being promised.

Froi sighed loudly. ‘We need to hasten these proceedings, Father,’ he said to Lord August. ‘And my king,’ he added to Finnikin, who looked at him curiously.

Play along with me, Finn.

‘Remember? The Osterian archduke’s daughter is receiving suitors in three days’ time and we may have a better chance with her. You did spend many years in exile among the Osterians with Sir Topher of the Flatlands. And they do love you so.’

‘True, true,’ Finnikin said.

‘No!’ someone in the audience shouted.

Froi chanced a look at Quintana and saw a show of vicious little teeth.

‘Let us go, Lumaterans,’ Finnikin said, enjoying himself.

‘No!’ someone else in the crowd shouted out.

But it was Vinzenzo of Avanosh who was on his feet in an instant.

‘No need for that. No need at all,’ Avanosh said, adopting a good-natured tone. ‘Only testing your worth. I say we talk about this. Have we seen all the candidates?’

‘One more question,’ Orlanda of Jidia demanded. ‘What was the son of a Flatland lord doing in Charyn?’

Everyone stared at Finnikin and Froi, waiting. Finnikin stepped up to the platform and managed to address both the crowd and Provincari.

‘Why question what Froi of Lumatere was doing here?’ he asked. ‘When you should be questioning what would have happened to Charyn if he hadn’t been here. Who else would have saved Gargarin of Abroi from the street lords? He’s now the little King’s regent,’ he said, pointing to Gargarin. ‘Who would have saved Quintana of Charyn from hanging? Who would have rescued her from Tariq of Lascow’s compound? Who would have sent her to a safe place to birth the cursebreaker? Blah, blah, blah. I’m bored now,’ Finnikin said, looking around. ‘Are we here for a wedding, or are we off to Osteria for the archduke’s niece?’

‘Daughter,’ Froi corrected.

Finnikin stepped towards the Provincari and Froi could sense his friend’s anger.

‘My queen offers you peace. Your dead king ordered the slaughter of her family and his army tortured her people. This is our peace offering,’ Finnikin said, pointing to Froi. ‘Take it or leave it. We’re busy people.’

He turned his back on the Provincari and joined the Lumaterans.

The Provincari and the leaders rose and walked to a corner. Froi watched them argue vehemently. Suddenly Arjuro was there beside Froi and the Lumateran lot.

‘This is all too much for me. My heart is hammering.’

The Priestking stood and the two men embraced and then Gargarin was there. He bowed to Lady Abian and turned to Lord August. Both men acknowledged each other with a wary nod.