Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [26]
Sarene tapped her cheek for a moment in thought. “Well, Ashe, at least now you don’t have to worry about my causing too much unrest amongst Kae’s nobility.”
“I seriously doubt that, my lady. How else would you spend your time?”
“Oh, Ashe,” she said sweetly. “Why would I bother with a bunch of incompetent would-be nobles when I can match wits with a full gyorn?” Then, more seriously, she continued. “Wyrn picks his high priests well. If Iadon doesn’t watch that man—and it doesn’t seem like he will—then Hrathen will convert this city out from under him. What good will my sacrificial marriage do for Teod if Arelon gives itself to our enemies?”
“You may be overreacting, my lady,” Ashe said with a pulse. The words were familiar—it seemed that Ashe often felt a need to say them to her.
Sarene shook her head. “Not this time. Today was a test, Ashe. Now Hrathen will feel justified in taking action against the king—he has convinced himself that Arelon is indeed ruled by a blasphemer. He’ll try to find a way to overthrow Iadon’s throne, and Arelon’s government will collapse for the second time in ten years. This time it won’t be the merchant class that fills the void of leadership—it will be the Derethi priesthood.”
“So you are going to help Iadon?” Ashe said with an amused tone.
“He is my sovereign king.”
“Despite your opinion that he is insufferable?”
“Anything is better than Fjordell rule. Besides, maybe I was wrong about Iadon.” Things hadn’t gone too poorly between the two of them since that first embarrassing meeting. Iadon had practically ignored her at Raoden’s funeral, which had suited Sarene just fine; she’d been too busy watching for discrepancies in the ceremony. Unfortunately, the event had occurred with a disappointing level of orthodoxy, and no predominant noblemen had given themselves away by failing to show up or by looking too guilty during the proceedings.
“Yes …” she said. “Perhaps Iadon and I can get along by just ignoring each other.”
“What in the name of Burning Domi are you doing back in my court, girl!” the king swore from behind her.
Sarene raised her eyes to the sky in a look of resignation, and Ashe pulsed a quiet laugh as she turned to face King Iadon.
“What?” she asked, trying her best to sound innocent.
“You!” Iadon barked, pointing at her. He was understandably in a bad mood—of course, from what she heard, Iadon was rarely in a good mood. “Don’t you understand that women aren’t to come to my court unless they’re invited?”
Sarene blinked her eyes in confusion. “No one told me that, Your Majesty,” she said, intentionally trying to sound as if she didn’t have a wit in her head.
Iadon grumbled something about foolish women, shaking his head at her obvious lack of intelligence.
“I just wanted to see the paintings,” Sarene said, putting a quaver in her voice, as if she were on the brink of crying.
Iadon held his hand palm-forward in the air to forestall any more of her drivel, turning back to his ledgers. Sarene barely kept herself from smiling as she wiped her eyes and pretended to study the painting behind her.
“That was unexpected,” Ashe said quietly.
“I’ll deal with Iadon later,” Sarene mumbled. “I have someone more important to worry about now.”
“I just never thought I’d see the day when you, of all women, gave into the feminine stereotype—even if it was just an act.”
“What?” Sarene asked, fluttering her eyes. “Me, act?”
Ashe snorted.
“You, know, I’ve never been able to figure out how you Seons manage sounds like that,” Sarene said. “You don’t have noses—how can you snort?”
“Years of practice, my lady,” Ashe replied. “Am I truly going to have to suffer your whimpering every time you speak with the king?”
Sarene shrugged. “He expects women to be foolish, so I’ll be foolish. It’s much easier to manipulate people when they assume you can’t gather enough wits to remember your own name.”
“’Ene?” a sudden voice bellowed. “Is that