Book 3: Chapter 20 – Press [Part 2]
Book 3: Chapter 20 - Press [Part 2]
The heir to the Sariens Duchy knew full well that in the realm of rumor and accusations, one must attack, attack. Then attack some more.
The half-Al-Lazarian girl nodded, briefly touching the long braid of her hair. “Hmmm… you are quite right. I can work with that. Insinuate, but do not accuse directly.”
“‘House de Sariens remains committed to the welfare of the Kingdom Aranthia’ might go down well, I think.”
“Prudent, saintly, unassailable,” Rashana murmured, delighted. “Do we offer balm?”
“A paragraph on charity,” Seraphina said. “House de Sariens is gifting the city of Meridian a considerable donation to help with the rebuilding effort of damaged parts of the city. Write that I encourage all Houses to match donations. And, this is important, thank the Crown for its continued attention to public order after the Dragon attack.” She paused, then allowed herself the faintest smile. “Gratitude reads better than grievance.”
“Mm.” Rashana drew a slender divider and began a column titled Clarifications. “And the Saint? We cannot pretend she wasn’t there.”
“We will not pretend anything. The truth is the sharpest of swords if wielded by those who matter. That is all, for now, I think,” Seraphina concluded.
“How very righteous of us.” Rashana’s pen skated to a halt. “Would you like a quote from you to close it? Something the readers can pin upon their wall and sigh over?”
Seraphina considered, sifting through lines until one fit like a glove. “Try: ‘In all things, let us choose duty without cruelty, truth without spectacle.’ Place it beneath my name in a sensible font.”
Rashana copied it carefully, then sat back, satisfied. She had the editor’s rhythm now: distil, sharpen, place. Words unfurled beneath her hand—measured and practiced. Seraphina stepped to her shoulder, eyes skimming with a studied restraint, adding her own suggestions here and there. A portrait, a semblance of the truth, resolved in the spaces: dutiful, magnanimous, untouchable.
“Good,” Seraphina said at last. “That frames me appropriately.”
“Anything for a friend,” Rashana replied, laying the pen aside to flex her fingers.
The words were light, almost idle, and yet they landed with a weight that made Seraphina’s thoughts pause. Rashana, so fond of barbs for sport, had yielded with suspicious grace. She had been amenable. No coy delay; only the memory of a promised dance and this sudden zeal to set type. Why? She had expected more resistance.
Seraphina let a pleasant hum veil the calculation beneath.
“I must say, how you do love to get ahead of things,” Rashana said, eyes bright again as she sketched the layout. “Now what were those things you mentioned? Headlines and whatnot?”
The blonde girl smiled pleasantly at her friend. “Well, I heard that when making a paper such as this, a headline is at the top of the paper, denoting some very important news…”
De Sariens continued with her explanation, Rashana just nodding. The half Al-Lazarian was a quick study, stopping Seraphina only when she needed a point clarified.
Rashana looked over her notes. “I’ll fair-copy this after supper for the compositor. The headline will look very fine above the fold. Those are the correct terms, right? By the way, have you thought about the name of this… paper?”
“Newspaper,” Seraphina corrected quickly with a small toss of her hair. “Thank you, and yes, those terms were otherwise correct,” the young noblewoman added, allowing sincerity to warm the words. “How about the Aranthian Times? We need something that will lend a certain veritas to what we put out. Something to do with one of the Pillars of the Kingdom?”
The other girl nibbled at the feather of her quill in thought. “Yes, that name does sound nice, but it could do with something… Seraphina, how about ‘The Oracle’? I daresay it will add a certain weight to the words once printed.”
“You are a genius, Rashana! That is absolutely perfect,” the blonde girl smiled warmly, glad that her friend had walked down a pre-prepared path. People were more willing to accept suggestions when they thought they were their own.
Seraphina had not forgotten how her “friend” had maneuvered her into dancing the Dance of the Seven Veils. Though only she would know it, this went some way toward evening the score.
Rashana set her quill aside, bracelets chiming softly. “Truly, anything for a good friend. Now, there is another matter I wish to discuss.”
“Oh? What is it?” Seraphina asked, arching a brow with practiced poise.
“Wait a moment, I have been a poor host. I will prepare us some tea.”
“There is no need; I was the one who burst in unannounced.”
“One offers water to those who need it,” Rashana replied with a gracious smile.
Rashana lifted her chin and called out, a lilting phrase in Al-Lazarian.
The door slid open at once. Two servants in pale blue livery entered with a lacquered tray between them, their steps almost soundless. They set a low table before the two girls, laid a narrow runner of patterned weave, and placed a brass kettle upon a small spirit brazier. Porcelain cups ringed with filigree followed, a waste bowl for the first pour, a dish of sugared almonds, and a plate of thin dates split and jeweled with walnuts.
Rashana smiled as she moved with practiced grace. She warmed the cups, poured once to season the leaves, tipped that amber away, and glanced up through her lashes. “Sweet, or straight?”
“Sugar,” Seraphina said, settling with a rustle of skirts. “For life, as of late, has been a bit too bitter.”
“As you wish.” Rashana tasted first, a host’s courtesy and quiet reassurance, then filled Seraphina’s cup in a thin, unbroken thread that sent steam curling between them.
“To sweetening this bitter life,” Rashana murmured lightly, setting the tea before her friend, the scent of it filling the air between. “Now… about that other matter.”
The girl cradled her cup, her eyes soft and mellow. “Now that, the Crown Prince is no longer your betrothed, there is a match I would have you consider. My elder brother, Marwen. He is…” she took a small breath. “...attractive, intelligent, unfailingly kind. Refined, well-mannered. He would treat you as a treasure, Seraphina,” she declared, ticking off her brother’s virtues on her slender fingers. “Remember, he would always give you gifts. He treated you as family whenever you came to visit.”
Seraphina listened, sipping at her sweet tea. “All of which is true. He is a fine man,” she allowed. “He would indeed make a fine husband.” She set the cup down. “There is only one small problem.”
Rashana’s smile held. “And what is that?”
“I do not believe I could make him happy.”
A beat passed. “Why not?”
Seraphina shook her head once, almost regretful. “Because your brother prefers men.”
The smile snapped, then flattened into something brittle. “How dare you… I mean, how could you possibly know—”
“Rashana,” Seraphina said gently. “My mother is an Oracle. Do you not think she would have considered your brother as a match?”
Understanding struck; Rashana gave a short, bitter laugh and looked away to the window. “Of course. Your mother.”
“I intend to marry for love,” Seraphina went on, tone even. “Anything else would be a disservice to Marwen and to myself. Your brother deserves a life that fits him. So do I.”
Rashana’s throat worked once. “You will keep this… confidence?”
“Of course,” Seraphina replied with a friendly smile. “We have already kept this confidence for many years now. I have no wish to see your House embarrassed by idle tongues. I hope you understand that, above anything, that we are friends, Senior Rashana.”
Rashana exhaled, some tension bleeding from her shoulders. She smiled weakly back at the blonde girl. “You are… considerate.”
Seraphina smiled, all sweetness over steel. Internally, she marked the knowledge and cataloged Rashana’s reaction. This was but one more arrow in her quiver, should her designs require it.