Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [158]
The Orullian brothers would roll over laughing at the very idea. The brothers, her cousins, would never let her live it down if they heard that she was even considering such a thing.
She was so uncomfortable with the idea that she made up her mind on the spot that she was going to reject her grandmother’s offer of the Elfstones. Even if Mistral Belloruus was right and her father was the wrong choice to bear the magic, that did not make Phryne the right one. Someone else would better serve the Elven people. Someone with experience and a lifetime of dedication working for the good of the people. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t think of anyone like that offhand. Given time, she would be able to come up with a name. Or two.
She could.
She was mulling over how to tell her grandmother all this when her father walked into her room and sat down across from her. She looked up expectantly, not sure why he was there.
“I’ve been summoned to a meeting with Isoeld,” he said after a minute, looking unsure of how to proceed with what he had to say. “She says it has something to do with our relationship and my service as Elven King. She wants you there, too. Do you have any idea what this is about?”
This was Phryne’s chance to say something about Isoeld’s affairs with other men, about her cheating on her husband. After all, it was possible that she had become ashamed enough of her behavior that she was going to do the right thing and step aside as Queen. That was what Phryne would have liked to believe, but she couldn’t quite make herself do so. Nothing about Isoeld suggested that the word shame was even familiar to her.
So she just shook her head. “I don’t.”
Her father nodded, looking distracted. “Perhaps I’ve done something to anger her and I need to apologize …”
“Perhaps you’ve done nothing wrong at all!” Phryne snapped, unable to listen to such nonsense. “Perhaps she’s the one who’s done something wrong and needs to apologize to you!”
Her father looked startled. “What do you mean? What do you think she might have done?”
Phryne shook her head. “Nothing. I just don’t think you should assume you’ve done anything.”
“That isn’t how you made it sound.” Her father shook his head. “I thought you two were getting along better.”
“We are,” she lied. She made a vague gesture toward the doorway. “Is she coming here for this meeting? Or are we supposed to go to her? When is it, anyway?”
“Right now, in the family library. Are you ready?”
She would never be ready for anything having to do with Isoeld unless it involved watching her father give the little scut a kick in the backside out the door, but she supposed there was no putting it off. Between the meetings with her grandmother and now this one, she would be grateful if she weren’t summoned to anything more than dinner for a month.
They left the room and made their way down the palace hallways toward the library, Oparion Amarantyne leading, his daughter trudging reluctantly behind. Phryne listened to the sound of their footfalls in the silence, thinking it unusually quiet even for late afternoon, when visitors were no longer admitted and the day was winding down toward dinnertime. She mulled over anew her inevitable confrontation with her grandmother, trying to think how to speak the required words. She found it impossible.
The library door was ajar when they reached the chamber, and her father pushed through first, Phryne following. Isoeld stood at the center of the room, right in front of her husband’s desk, hands clasped before her, smiling warmly.
Teonette stood beside her, grim-faced.
“Thank you both for coming,” she greeted. “This won’t take long.”
“Why is he here?” Phryne