Side Story-The Duke's Wives

Eleanor was in a bad mood and it showed in every step. While the women of status in Victory were expected to hold themselves a certain way, they didn’t indulge in the etiquette of the capital. The north cared for appearances but it came far behind things such as strength and honor. Her stride was measured and her back was straight but she stomped forward like the soldiers that raised her, her footsteps echoing off the stone.

The guardswoman standing by the door was turned toward her as she approached, expression hard. Eleanor didn’t let the barely contained disdain shown by the knight bother her. The younger generation was so sensitive these days.

What woman didn’t try to kill her fellow wives at least once or twice? It was practically tradition. And it only made sense to target the southern barbarian when she was drunk and happy. Simple strategy. She hadn’t been the one to throw around the magic that collapsed half the house.

It should have been left at that but Kalise was the Stars’, the female counterpart to the Moons, favored at the time. They had posted the first guard as something of a joke. Somehow, it became an honor posting after Kalise had given some instruction to her guardswomen. As their respect for Kalise grew, their dislike of Eleanor grew in proportion.

Still, as the wife of the duke, she was owed respect. Respect she received as the guardswoman smoothed her features and dropped her head, stepping aside. Eleanor didn’t spare her a second look as she opened the door and stepped inside.

There weren’t many luxuries in the James estate but they existed. The baths, for one, the largest one set aside for the duke and his wives. The second was their bedrooms. Appearances weren’t paramount but they did matter.

As such, Kalise’s room consisted of a tearoom as it would be called in the capital, a private washroom, and then her bedroom. The extra room was a holdover from when it was considered unseemly for a woman to allow anyone but her husband into her bedroom but one still needed a private space to entertain close friends. The washroom was a matter of security. Assassins loved to strike sleepy targets wandering the halls in the middle of the night. A small concern in Victory but one that still existed.

Kalise’s tearoom was fairly unimpressive, as far as nobility went, but perfectly expected for a woman of Victory. Two couches and a table sat in the middle of the room. The rest of the space was occupied by her trophies. Most of them the white furred and feathered beasts of the north but there were other specimens from her vacations to her home in the south.

An impressive display, worthy for a lady of Victory, even if Eleanor didn’t care too much for it. She was raised by knights and took pride in the traditions of the north, but that didn’t mean she liked them.

Kalise laid on one of the couches, her head propped up by a hand and a frown on her lips. Across from her sat Ariza, shoulders hunched and eyes nervous. Eleanor’s displeasure rose eying the nervous woman.

She didn’t understand her husband’s choice of a third wife. The wife of pleasure was usually softer but Ariza was a pillow. A shifty, anxious pillow that clung to the duke for purpose. Being infertile, she didn’t even have children to distract her. A blessing. Eleanor couldn’t imagine any children from the thin woman being anything but embarrassments.

Ariza slid to the end of the couch as Eleanor took a seat. She ignored her as she faced Kalise. “You couldn’t bother to set out something to drink?”

The southerner gestured toward a dresser with several cups and bottles on its surface. “Help yourself. It all takes feckin terrible now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t know being the pillar of ice you are. The elf brought some brew by one of her kin. Makes everything in my cabinets taste like beast entrails sprinkled with swamp mud. Been trying to get my hands on more but she’s playing hard to get. Won’t even let me buy more. If this is the way the wind is blowing, I just may sleep with her for another barrel.”

Eleanor glowered as Ariza gasped. “Your jests aren’t funny.”

“Not joking. If any of you try that wine, you’ll understand. Ancestors, the old cat might hand me over himself.”

“He wouldn’t,” Ariza whispered, hesitant eyes peeking through her long bangs.

Kalise rolled her eyes. “Maybe not you but he doesn’t think of us the same way. There’s a lot less affection and a whole lot more duty there. I think it’s been…four years since we’ve fucked?”

“Kalise!” Ariza yelled, reflexively glancing around to make sure no one had overheard the scandalous comment.

“Oi, just because you spend the nights in his bed don’t mean the rest of us are getting the same attention. Tell her, your frigidness. When was the last time he mounted you? Since your youngest? It’s no wonder you’re always in a bad mood.”

Eleanor felt a twinge of annoyance. As her fellow wife said, the wife of status and the wife of power were wed out of duty, not affection. Her husband treated her well but she was under no illusion that he loved her. She even doubted that he loved Ariza, truly. She was simply the kind of woman that could spark his desire.

After they’d had an acceptable number of children together, their physical relationship ended. She hadn’t gone searching for comfort elsewhere. After all, while they were not paramount, appearances did matter. She had simply accepted the status quo.

That did not mean she appreciated it being shoved in her face.

“Enough. We are not gathered for foolishness.”

“Heh. I’m serious but sure. Let’s move on to the boring stuff. Our real jobs around here.” Kalise sat up with a snort. “Cleaning up our brats’ messes. And your boy has made a spectacular one this time.”

Eleanor grimaced. It had been a while since the wives had come together. It used to be a more frequent occasion, back when Kalise’s sons were alive. Unsurprising. Rarely had they gathered for Eleanor’s children.

“Are we really going to march on Quest?” Ariza asked nervously.

“Got no choice. Victory is its traditions and tradition demands the debt of the March be collected, no matter what.”

“But…that means war with the kingdom.”

“Not if the idiots surrender.” The southerner pointed at Eleanor. “But if it does come to bloodshed, I better see your boy on the front lines. That’s the least he can do to own up to this mess.”

“…agreed.”

“What were you thinking?” Kalise continued. “You should have reigned him in once we got word of what that elf could do. Ancestors, the fool was trying to kill off a master with a pure physical affinity. Before the campaign. You should have dragged him back by his tail and locked him in his room until he cooled his head.”

“He is not a boy.” Eleanor relaxed her rigid spine, sighing as she sagged into the cushions behind her. “If he is meant to be a leader, then he needs to make his own choices. A role he is not best suited for but he is the best of the options available.”

Truthfully, Eleanor had put too many expectations on her eldest, Erenson. The boy was simply too brilliant. He could fight, he could lead, and he had vision. He was everything Victory needed and more. Her other sons were meant to be his generals at best. His death hurt more people than his father. Even Zachariah felt it, suddenly thrust into a competition for inheritance that never should have happened.

Eleanor supported him. The only other choices were her soft daughter that wanted to pretend the monsters in the north didn’t exist, Kalise’s strange son that couldn’t hold a conversation, and the golden stray. Not choices at all.

“Uh-huh. Well, he’s put his foot in it now. Hopefully, he lies down and recovers from this wound before it turns fatal. Nothing we can do there. Our attention needs to go to the one we all ignored. Alana.” Kalise chuckles. “She’s come roaring back into the fray, hasn’t she?”

Eleanor grimaces. “It’s not her. It’s those she’s brought with her.”

“Her bannerwoman and said woman’s wife and elementals. It’s hardly like they’re mercenaries whose motives are suspect. It’s more than fair to count them as her strength.”

“Um.” Ariza spoke up hesitantly. “Are we sure? Alana might have brought them but what guarantees do we have that they’ll stay? Or won’t turn on Victory. An outsider is an outsider.”

“She speaks!”

“And she brings up a good point,” Eleanor said, drawing Kalise attention away from the shrinking woman.

“Haven’t you heard the whispers? They’ve got one good reason to say, heh. Guess the girl does take after her mother.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” Ariza mutters.

“Oi. Only you city folk care how a woman gets what she wants. My own mother would have bedded a swamp-soaked dog fer good enough reason. Ha! She’d probably do it if she drank enough bog too. Say the truth. Rozamalene slipped into the old cat’s bed to get ahead. Alana lured the cocky cat into hers to jump ahead of her siblings. You may not like it but the end speaks for itself. The only one who gets to judge is the victor.”

“Speaking of the girl’s mother, that could be a problem,” Eleanor states. “This is what she has been waiting for. By now, word of the March will have reached her. She’ll be trying to get in touch. The woman is one of Alana’s blindspots.” One of the reasons Eleanor had never taken to Alana. There was no room for her as a mentor as long as the stray clung to wicked woman. “The question. Do we intervene?”

“Weren’t you just saying how the leader of Victory needs to make their own decisions?”

“This is different. You’ve seen what those outsiders can do. They will carve a swathe through the northern hordes. It would be a disgrace to lose them because of some whore’s ambitions.”

Kalise laughed. “Cold as ever. Thing is, I don’t think we need to worry. I’ve talked to Kierra. She won’t be impressed by Roza, not at all. I’d bet my left tit that she’d take the woman’s head off before she let her corrupt Alana. You think I am a beast. Trust me, Ellie. I have known those like her. There is a monster beneath that pretty skin. I advise we three stay out of its way.”

Eleanor received the rare bout of sincerity with a solemn nod. “But I detest leaving a situation to chance.” She turned to Ariza. “Which is where you come in”

“Me?” the third wife squeaked.

“Yes. It is too late for me to build a bridge. Kalise is an insensitive pig. You are the only option. The girl is distant from the family. Antagonistic. This cannot be allowed. Her mother is about to be ousted from her life. There is room for another. You always wanted a child, did you not?”

Ariza turned her head, biting her lip.

“No need to be cruel,” Kalise chided. “Now, my clan. Let’s talk about how we’re going to tame a few rowdy cats.”