“This is perfectly quaint, Odilia. I hardly expected it of you.”
“Unlike some, Your Grace, I do not need to make grand entrances at the theatre to enjoy time with a patron.”
He inclined his silver head to accept her point, even as she offered a wry smile. They sat in her private salon, so different from the Grand Salon downstairs and so different from the Dowayne’s Salon at the other end of the wing. This was as simple a room as could be managed in the Night Court. The drapes were of fine quality, but of a single color, no grand damask or patterned velvet; the furniture was sturdy, heavy dark wood with simple designs carved into the legs and arms. The only touches of real finery were embroidered cushions and baubles he suspected were patron gifts, not her choice at all. But she displayed them tastefully about the chamber.
“Besides,” she said, pouring the steaming herbal infusion from the simple ceramic jug; it smelled of strawberries and roses and orange blossoms, “I wished to speak with you.”
“In regards to?”
“The embargo you placed on the silver trade,” she said, meeting his eyes squarely as she handed him the painted glass cup that held the steaming drink.
“The Duchesse de Perigeux is the one who closed her borders to the silver trade,” Roland said, not even blinking. “Siovale is the one stopping trade, not I.”
“But who gave her the idea?” Odilia stirred a bare spoonful of honey into her steaming cup, “Who could have written a letter to an old friend catching her up on the events of the city and perhaps suggesting that the arrogant peasant be put in his place? Who was ever so conveniently right here when the drama began to unfold and who has enough political power to arrange something like an embargo at a moment’s notice?”
Her head tilted slightly, “Please do give me some credit.”
“What purpose would I have to do this,” he asked lightly, “if it were true?”
“I’m sure you had several reasons of your own,” she replied just as lightly, “and I am not so self-centered as to think you did any of it for me. Perhaps it benefits you to make it seem so to those who are watching these events unfold, but I do not flatter myself to think that I would have so much sway over you. But you have your reasons I am sure. Just as I have my reasons for asking you to lift it.”
“Is that so?” He took a sip from his cup and set it down on her round table. “Well, you are quite right there, little Dahlia, that I have no reason to do anything you ask of me.”
“Oh I know,” she had the audacity to smile at him. “I know that I have no such influence over you.”
The door to her solar opened and Rosanna Baphinol nó Valerian entered in a swirl of pink skirts saying, “Oh, Odilia, I was so glad to get your invitation for this afternoon and-”
Her eyes widened at the sight of the man seated at the table and she let out a delighted little squeal. “Grand-père!”
He rose, “Rosanna, darling.”
She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him and letting him kiss her hair before she untangled herself and reached for her friend’s hand. “Oh, Odilia, what a lovely surprise! How sweet of you!”
Odilia smiled and accepted Rosanna’s kiss on her cheek. “I know how fond he is of you, Rosanna. I thought the least we could do was share an afternoon together.”
She gestured to the extra seat. “Please, sit. We were just chatting before you arrived.”
“Oh?” Rosanna flounced herself down into her seat. “Chatting about what?”
“The silver embargo,” Odilia said lightly, pouring Rosanna some of the steeped infusion.
“Oh, yes,” the petite redhead said vehemently. “It’s the least the Halceaux man deserves, questioning us the way he did. I hope he’s suffering.”
“The luncheon table is hardly the most appropriate place for your claws, little cat,” Roland said to his granddaughter and she huffed.
“Regardless,” Odilia said absently, “I did hear some gossip from Cereus the other day.”
“Did you?” There were few things Rosanna loved more than some good gossip. “Well, I’m listening!”
Odilia smiled, “Petrea has been hosting a new patron herself recently. An Aragonian nobleman come all the way to the City of Elua on business.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Don Ramiro Pascual de Soria y Borja,” Odilia recited, enjoying the beautiful liquid sounds of his name rolling off her tongue.
Rosanna shivered in spite of herself, “Well, does the face match the name?”
“I don’t know,” Odilia said airily. “He hasn’t visited me personally, but I would imagine so if he could so captivate Petrea and claim so much of her time.”
“Or he has very deep pockets,” Rosanna laughed.
“Ah, well, I’m not so sure his pockets are as deep as they used to be,” Odilia said archly, her brows lifting. “After all, his family owns quite a few of the Aragonian silver mines.”
“Ahhhhh,” Rosanna put the pieces together, “so he’s come to see what’s going on. And then, when he heard, he went to Cereus House, to the contact he already has, to see what can be done.”
“He might have saved himself half the trip if he had only crossed the mountains and remained in Siovale to petition the Duchesse de Perigeux,” Odilia said, “since it was her borders that were closed to the silver trade.”
“No, it made sense for him to come here,” Rosanna disagreed. “Since the Judiciary mess was so important to the embargo, he needed to come here to get a lay of the land and see where things stood within the city so he could plan the best way to approach Her Grace.”
“Don Ramiro is also a shameless flirt,” Roland said easily. “I’m sure he relished the chance to enjoy both business and pleasure while he was here.”
“As though you have ever denied yourself the same chance,” Rosanna teased her grandfather.
“Did I say it was a failing of his?” Roland smiled at her. “Not at all. I quite respect it.”
“We shall have to wait and see how persuasive he will be,” Odilia said, choosing a ripe strawberry from the crystal fruit dish, feeling the Duc de Chalasse’s eyes on her as she took a bite of the fruit, relishing the tart sweetness of the berry on her tongue and on her lips. “I don’t know how much longer the Silversmith Guild will be able to survive an embargo.”
“Well, the bastard shouldn’t have let his personal grudge get out of control,” Rosanna said vehemently. “He deserves what he got.”
“Perhaps,” Odilia allowed, “but he is not the only one who is affected by the embargo. The other members of his Guild also have families they need to provide for. Are they to be punished as well for the actions of their Guild leader? What about their children that need food and clothing?”
“How sentimental of you, little Dahlia,” Roland said idly.
Rosanna frowned. “No, no, she has a point, Grand-père. As much as I want that pompous, arrogant ba-” she paused, as not to use foul language a second time. “Arrogant man to suffer forever for what he put Odilia and the rest of us through. It was just his grudge. Even if the embargo humbles him, what will the cost be for the rest of the silversmiths that had nothing to do with his motion?”
Her face screwed up, “But he can’t get away with it either!”
“The embargo has been going on for months,” Roland pointed out. “I highly doubt he will consider months of no silver and no work as ‘getting away with it’, my dear.”
“An embargo is such a big, public gesture,” Odilia said with the tiniest wrinkle of her nose, “surely, there are more subtle and elegant ways to make it clear our displeasure with him without resorting to something so large.”
“I have heard that Cereus House has banished the silver from their table,” Rosanna said, “They’ve replaced it with gold and I’ve heard that Aliksandria has put in a grand order for aluminum with the Dyers Guild.”
“I have also noticed fewer silver jewelry pieces in the Dahlia salon,” Odilia mused. “Everyone has been wearing much more gold or bronze. It seems that silver has fallen out of fashion.”
“Well, that’s all we need,” Rosanna said, perking up. “If it’s out of fashion, then let the embargo end and let them get their ore again. No one who is on our side will be caught in silver! What a way for us to know who is on our side or not!”
“Now, that’s an idea,” Odilia said, swirling the dregs in her cup. “What do you think, Your Grace? What would be the opinion of the other nobles about such an action?”
Roland looked at her, into her clever eyes, and had to suppress a small smile, “I think that the nobles are ever looking for their next amusement, little Dahlia. And I am sure this will entertain plenty of them.”
“We’ll have to tell Aliksandria, of course,” Rosanna said. “Since we got the idea from her. I’m sure I can convince the other Dowaynes, if they need much convincing at all. Who would have thought that one little metal could become such a political statement!”
“The embargo hasn’t been ended yet,” Odilia reminded her friend. “We can’t do anything with the guild in a stranglehold as it is now.”
“That’s easily fixed,” Rosanna waved the concern away. “Grand-père, you are friends with Duchesse Niniane, aren’t you? You could easily write her a letter to convince her to listen to Don Ramiro’s request to end the embargo and open the silver trade again. Then once she does, because of course she will, no one can refuse you, then we can set about making it clear that just because he has his silver trade back doesn’t mean Halceaux is in any way forgiven for what he has done.”
“I could easily do that,” Roland said slowly. “Are you asking me to, Rosanna?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Now that we have a plan, I think it can be ended.”
“Very well,” Roland said, pushing himself slowly to his feet and looking down, not at his granddaughter, but at the Dahlia that had arranged this so neatly. “Excuse me, then, ladies. I have a letter to write.”
She let him see it for just a moment. No more than a flash, but it was there in her eyes all the same. Triumph. She had won this round and they both knew it. He bowed to them both and showed himself out of her salon. And Odilia hid her smile behind her cup as she finished her drink and set the painted glass down on the table.
“You didn’t have to do it like this,” Rosanna said after a long moment.
“Do what?” Odilia asked it absently as she rose to cross to the sideboard with the decanter of apple brandy.
“You didn’t just invite me here to have a conversation with my grandfather.”
“That’s exactly what I did.”
“Odilia, please.”
The Dahlia turned to look down at the seated Valerian, who continued quietly, “You could have just asked.”
“Really?” Odilia poured two glasses of the brandy and returned to the table to set one down in front of Rosanna, “And if I had – if I had asked you to use your influence over your grandfather to have him remove the embargo on silver that he put into place to punish an upstart peasant that challenged both the Night Court’s power and your friend’s position – would you have agreed?”
Rosanna pressed her lips together before admitting, “No.”
“Mmm,” Odilia hummed, nodding. “So I had to convince you, convince you both, that the embargo was not the way to punish him, that there were other options once it is lifted to satisfy both your revenge and his old-fashioned classicism.”
“And you couldn’t persuade him to do it yourself,” Rosanna said, “Because you knew you didn’t have the same influence over him as I did.”
“You’re his favorite granddaughter, Rose,” Odilia said, crossing to her personal chessboard. “He’d do almost anything you asked him to do.”
She picked up the queen-side bishop and set it down next to a pawn, “And so the pawn dictates the bishop’s next move.”
“You used me.”
“I use everyone.”
“Yes,” Rosanna said, “and that’s why I’m your only real friend.”
Odilia turned to look at her, dark eyes meeting hazel, acknowledging the truth of that for a moment. It wasn’t wrong, but it was unusually cold of Rosanna to say it so blankly. Perhaps she was genuinely hurt by Odilia’s maneuvering this time.
“And,” Rosanna continued, getting to her feet, “It’s one of the reasons he likes you.”
Odilia’s brow lifted as she smiled, “Oh?”
Rosanna nodded. “Mmhmm, I can tell.”
She came to join Odilia at the board, looking down at the setup. “Which piece are you?”
Odilia tapped it. “The king-side bishop. Close enough to advise, powerful, but still limited in how I can move.”
“Grand-père?”
“Queen-side bishop. Not as close to the throne, a powerful player of his own with less clear ties to the crown, but still very much on our side.”
“And me?”
“Queen-side pawn,” Odilia said, picking it up. “Able to direct the other, more powerful pieces with your position, and easily overlooked and underestimated when the enemy focuses on the bigger pieces behind you.”
“And who is the enemy of this game?”
“I don’t know yet.” She set the pawn down. “Perhaps its no one. Perhaps I’m just playing against Fate. Perhaps its just the game of Life.”
“We’ve done well thus far,” Rosanna said, clinking her glass against Odilia’s. “Let’s keep playing and see what happens.”