Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [65]
Ahan snorted. “If that’s what you want to call it.” Then, as it appeared no one else was going to begin, he shrugged and began helping himself to the food. Roial, however, did not follow his rival’s lead; mirth had not erased his concerns. He folded his hands in front of himself and regarded Sarene with a very practiced gaze.
“You may be a fine actress, my dear,” the duke said as Ahan reached in front of him to grab a basket of rolls, “but I see no reason why you should attend this dinner. Through no fault of your own, you are young and inexperienced. The things we say tonight will be very dangerous to hear and even more dangerous to remember. An unnecessary set of ears—no matter how pretty the head to which they are attached—will not help.”
Sarene narrowed her eyes, trying to decide whether the duke was attempting to provoke her or not. Roial was as hard a man to read as any she had ever met. “You’ll find that I am hardly inexperienced, my lord. In Teod we don’t shelter our women behind a curtain of weaving and embroidering. I have spent years serving as a diplomat.”
“True,” Roial said, “but you are hardly familiar with the delicate political situations here in Arelon.”
Sarene raised an eyebrow. “I have often found, my lord, that a fresh, unbiased opinion is an invaluable tool in any discussion.”
“Don’t be silly, girl,” spat the still nervous Edan as he filled his plate. “I’m not going to risk my safety simply because you want to assert your liberated nature.”
A dozen snide retorts snapped to Sarene’s lips. However, even as she was deciding which was the most witty, a new voice entered the debate.
“I beseech you, my lords,” said the young Jindo, Shuden. His words were very soft, but still distinct. “Answer me a question. Is ‘girl’ the proper title for one who, had things turned out a bit differently, might have been our queen?”
Forks stopped on the way to mouths, and once again Sarene found herself the focus of the room’s attention. This time, however, the looks were slightly more appreciative. Kiin nodded, and Lukel shot her an encouraging smile.
“I warn you, my lords,” Shuden continued, “forbid her or accept her as you will, but do not treat her with disrespect. Her Arelish title is no stronger and no more flimsy than our own. Where we ignore one, we must ignore all others.”
Sarene blushed furiously on the inside, chastising herself. She had overlooked her most valuable asset—her marriage to Raoden. She had been a Teoish princess all her life; the position formed the cornerstone of who she was. Unfortunately, that self-concept was outdated. She was no longer just Sarene, daughter of Teod; she was also Sarene, wife to the crown prince of Arelon.
“I applaud your caution, my lords,” she said. “You have good reason to be careful—you have lost your patron, the only man who could have given you a measure of protection. Remember, however, that I am his wife. I am no substitute for the prince, but I am still a connection to the throne. Not just this throne, but others as well.”
“That’s well and good, Sarene,” Roial said, “but ‘connections’ and promises will do us little good in the face of the king’s wrath.”
“Little good is not the same as no good, my lord,” Sarene replied. Then, in a softer, less argumentative tone, she continued. “My lord duke, I will never know the man that I now call my husband. You all respected and, if I am to believe my uncle, loved Raoden—but I, who should have come to love him best, can never even meet him. This work in which you are involved was his passion. I want to be a part of it. If I cannot know Raoden, at least let me share his dreams.”
Roial watched her for a second, and she knew that he was measuring her sincerity. The duke was not a man to be fooled by mock sentimentality. Eventually, he nodded and began cutting himself a piece of pork. “I have no problem with her staying.”
“Neither do I,” Shuden said.
Sarene looked at the others. Lukel was smiling openly at her speech, and the stately mercenary