In The Name of Love
2: Advice

As they walk down the mirror-lined corridor towards the main entrance of Adelhyod, Minna catches a glimpse of herself and Fifi and marvels that Chuezoh made the two of them sisters. Their faces and figures are similar enough, but Minna’s neatly dressed rosy-gold locks and green eyes are far more eye-catching than Fifi’s loose chestnut tresses and brown eyes, and Fifi’s steps are more meandering and unladylike than Minna’s practiced, regal gait. I know Father wishes Fifi would settle down and take her position in life seriously, like I do, Minna muses, but I wouldn’t have her any other way. She reminds me that there’s more to life than meets the eye, even for those of us of royal birth.

Though she dares not say so aloud, Minna hopes Fifi’s wishes for her future husband will be realized. She knows that their father, as King of Aethyrozia, prioritizes what’s best for their country above all other concerns--even his children’s happiness. Even so, there are five of them, the princes of Syazonia, she reminds herself as she and Fifi continue to walk, skirts swishing and heels clicking. They can’t all be horrid louts, even if some of them are. As Father said, surely one of them will find favor in my eyes.

Despite her best efforts to reassure herself, Minna gets more anxious with each moment that passes—each one moment fewer between her and her Quest for Favor. The muffled sounds of thunder and rain drumming on the roof do nothing to quiet her nerves.

“The ides of Bretor,” Fifi observes, glancing up at the ceiling as if she might see the stormy sky outside.

“I hope Mother’s all right,” Minna replies, choosing to ignore Fifi’s superstitious remark. Storms during the month of Bretor, the height of springtime, are thought by the common people to be omens of great tumult to come, but Minna puts no stock in such things.

Then they round the last corner in their journey to the entrance hall and happen upon Queen Ingrid and one of her maids cresting the Grand Staircase. The Queen’s long hair, a few shades darker than Fifi’s, hangs damp and limp down her back, and the maid is helping her carry her sodden skirts.

“Oh! We were just coming to see you!” Minna greets their mother. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Minna dear, I’m fine,” Queen Ingrid replies with a somewhat forced smile. “Just soaked through. I saw the clouds rolling in but didn’t think it would do more than sprinkle, and then all of a sudden, the heavens just opened. It’s sweet of you to want to see me, but shouldn’t you be preparing for your Quest for Favor instead?”

“Let me help, Mother,” Fifi offers. She joins the maid in carrying the Queen’s skirts before anyone can answer her. Always quick to act, without thinking of what consequences her actions might bear, Minna observes of her sister; she admires Fifi’s kind heart and helpful spirit—qualities she knows their mother appreciates in her, as well—but she cannot help thinking that stooping to help a servant is not exactly appropriate conduct for a princess. I wish I dared to do the same, Minna sighs, but tomorrow the marriage games begin, and I cannot forget, even for a moment, who and what I am.

“It was to prepare for tomorrow that I wanted to speak with you,” Minna answers Queen Ingrid as they make their way down another of Adelhyod’s corridors, this time bound for the Queen’s chambers. “Perhaps we can be of assistance to you now, and then by and by, once you are more comfortable, we might speak privately?”

“You know I had no Quest for Favor myself,” the Queen responds. “I am always willing to help you however I can, Minna, but I don’t know what use I can be to you with this.”

“I just thought, perhaps, since you’ve met my suitors, at least the ones who have already arrived…. Father has already given me his advice, regarding my upcoming decision, and I was wondering--”

“You are right. This would be much better discussed privately, once I have changed into dry clothes.”

I must’ve said something I shouldn’t have, Minna tells herself, knowing how rare it is for her mother to interrupt anyone. Maybe she’s worried about the suitors overhearing? It’s definitely possible; to her knowledge, there’s no protocol confining them to their chambers until the Quest for Favor begins.

“Mother, did I tell you that Algot stole my favorite brooch?” Fifi asks brightly.

“Goodness, no! That naughty raven. Did you catch him in the act?” Queen Ingrid smiles at her younger daughter. Minna finds herself smiling, too, and thoughts of her Quest for Favor leave her for the few minutes’ walk to Queen Ingrid’s suite as Fifi regales them with an animated tale of how she noticed the brooch was missing, searched their rooms high and low, and finally found Algot’s hidden stash of shiny things on the top of an armoire, her brooch among them. That raven is nothing but trouble, but I suppose I’m glad Fifi keeps him, if only for the entertainment, Minna muses. Fifi’s story has been a welcome distraction to her during their walk.

Once they arrive, Minna and Fifi settle themselves next to the window in their mother’s pink and gold sitting room while the maid and Queen Ingrid go to the queen’s dressing room to change.

“Do you s’pose the storm has kept any contestants from getting here?” Minna wonders. The rain batters the window next to her relentlessly.

“Probably not,” Fifi shrugs. “Emrik never lets the weather get in the way of his riding and combat lessons, no matter what his tutors say.”

“Emrik is also twelve. I’d hope any man competing for my hand would have more sense than our little brother.”

“Emrik’s quite sensible for his age.”

“I never said he wasn’t, but no suitor of mine ought to be Emrik’s age. He’s seven years my junior.”

“True enough, but like as not a few of them will be at least a year or two younger than you.”

“Just like you, so I’ll leave such contestants for your Quest for Favor, should they wish to try again to marry a princess of Aethyrozia.”

“If I were them, I don’t know that I’d want to come back. Why should they think I’d want your leftovers?”

Minna’s eyes widen at the brazenness of Fifi’s question. “I doubt any of them would think of things that way. But they might genuinely like you. Or find you more attractive than me.”

“Doubtful. My dowry’s to be the same as yours, and you’re the beauty of the family.”

Minna rolls her eyes and bites her tongue. Public opinion is on Fifi’s side, but most of the public isn’t aware of Fifi’s endearing genuine smile, her engaging mannerisms, the way she always seems to know exactly what to say or do to make someone feel better.

“Princesses, please. Let’s not have this fight again,” Queen Ingrid implores as she emerges from her dressing room.

“Our apologies, Mother. We meant nothing by it,” Minna replies, instantly putting on her perfect princess mannerisms. She hears Fifi coughing back snickers beside her and her cheeks redden.

“Please, Minna, save your niceties for your suitors. We can speak more or less freely here. Now, what is it you wanted to know about them?”

“Did any stand out to you, as you were meeting them?” Minna’s nails dig into her palms as her nerves return with a vengeance.

“Which one do you think is the handsomest?” Fifi adds mischievously. Minna flashes her younger sister a glare. Now is not the time, she wants to say, but their mother seems amused by Fifi’s antics, and so she holds her tongue.

“Fifi, dear, you know I have eyes for only your father. I cannot possibly judge the appearances of the men seeking to wed my daughter,” Ingrid reproaches Fifi gently, but Minna notes the mirth in the queen’s green eyes.

“I care far more about their personalities and manners, anyway,” the elder princess says.

“Well. The Syazonian princes made quite an entrance, of course, given that there are five of them, and all with their own attendants and luggage,” Ingrid remarks, her thoughtful gaze settling on Minna as she speaks. “I know your father wishes you to give them your...special consideration, but based on how they presented themselves this morning, I would focus that consideration on the eldest, Adalberto, and the middle one, Lisandro, if you are at all concerned for your own happiness.”

“Thank you, Mother. I will keep that in mind.” Thank you for telling me exactly what I needed to know, Minna adds.

“But what of the others?” Fifi presses. “It’s more than just the princes of Syazonia that have come for Minna’s hand, isn’t it?”

“Aye. The Grand Duke Maksym of Khandazar is here. He seems very shy, but perhaps he will open up to you, Minna. And Prince Didier of Vyrunia is quite a charming young man,” Ingrid continues.

“Khandazar is so terribly far away, and Vyrunia is so vast,” Minna comments, trying to keep calm even as her thoughts are racing. “They must be eager for alliances, as well, or else--”

“There is something of a shortage of marriageable young ladies of royal blood in Lokva at present, from what your father tells me. More than one ambassador has offered myriad temptations for the king to forgo both of your Quests for Favor and arrange your marriages in a more typical fashion, but I have insisted that the tradition remain undisturbed by their greed and whims.” Queen Ingrid sighs, and Minna wonders what their mother must be thinking, why she’s telling them this. Surely what’s best for Aethyrozia will work out for our benefit, as well? “Still, Minna, I imagine your father would be...most displeased if you were to select a suitor who is not of royal blood.”

“Which seems a bit unfair, don’t you think? By this count Minna has only seven royal suitors, and I’m sure more men than that have come to compete for her hand,” Fifi points out.

“Fifi,” Minna reproaches. She wants to tell her sister that it’s not for them to question their father’s will, but before she can voice those thoughts, their mother speaks again.

“Some of the Aethyrozian nobles, and noble sons, seem to be interesting characters. And you’ve probably met, or at least seen, all of them before,” Ingrid tells Fifi before returning her attention, with grave intensity, to Minna. “But ultimately it is your choice, Minna, and yours alone, which of these men who contend for your hand shall prevail. And while your devotion to king and country is admirable, you must not forget that you are choosing your life partner. Follow your heart, or at least do not forget to take yourself and your own well-being into consideration when you make your choice.”

Not for the first time, Minna wonders whether Queen Ingrid is happy in her marriage to King Ansgar. He chose her from among the daughters of the Aethyrozian nobility at a ball held in his honor on his nineteenth birthday, and though he claims he chose her for her myriad personal charms, it has escaped no one’s notice that her father was the fabulously wealthy Duke of Ferdun. Many suspect his choice was mandated by his own father on account of her family’s riches, and of course no one even pretends that Ingrid had any say in the matter of her own marriage. Not so for me. Father may have his restrictions on my choice, but there are still five of them. I still have some freedom to choose, Minna reassures herself, but the thought is cold comfort.

“Well! I think that’s all the advice I can really give you, my dear,” Queen Ingrid decides, cutting Minna’s thoughts short. “Now, I do believe it’s time we joined your father and brother for supper. Let’s not keep them waiting! Come along!”

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