The city of Solaris was a welcome change. There were no farmers or peasants, no dirt roads or little cottages tucked away in the unnecessary shadows of forest growth. This was the home she was meant for, the one that suited her perfectly.
And it will be mine someday. It was the only thing that pulled her through trying times in such a disgusting farm town, when there was nothing but fantasy or promises of social revival that gave her something to live for. Her mother had promised that soon they could afford to send her to Norberry to continue her education and hopefully find her a noble match, but Victoria was far from patient and held a demand to anyone and everyone who crossed her path. She held no sympathy for the poor, no mercy for those who dared to test her patience.
Yes, she thought in her misguided manner.
Solaris will suit me just fine someday.
The bustle of passing wagons and groups of botanists from across the lands filled the plaza at the Court of Miracles. Everywhere she looked, flowers of brilliant hues and scents and size lined booths of intricate make and model. Banners were strewn between the buildings and excited chatter among flower growers and sellers alike buzzed through the square-shaped pavillion. In truth, Victoria would rather chew sand than have to suffer through this meeting of paupers and fools, but there was one little trinket that would make the day well worth the effort. A chance to see the king. It did not go unknown that King Richard was looking for a bride. Victoria, among all her ambitions and dreams of making her life grander than it was, had convinced herself that she would be the perfect queen for Everbright. Her mother endorsed the idea as well, and as they took their places at the booth that had been set for them by various employees of Potter's Floral, they exchanged a glance of understanding.
Today, we make our move.
The king's herald marched forth into the square and sounded the golden trumpet, calling everyone in attendance to attention.
"Lords and ladies of Everbright!" he shouted with a voice so loud, Victoria had no doubt that one could him from the other side of the Silverbay.
"I hereby announce the presence of our good King Richard on this fine and beautiful spring morning. May the festival of flowers commence!"
Roaring crowds let their cheers escalate, no doubt signaling the king's entrance to the Court. Victoria kept her back straight and her wit straighter, prepared for any potential conversations she might hold with the man who symbolized the key to her ambition. He strode forward, surrounded by three guards and a great brute of a woman at his right side who was neither feminine nor beautiful.
Lady Anaria. What a cow. The king waved to those who greeted him and smiled at each face he met, a vision of integrity and mercy among a monarch as Victoria had ever seen.
He must be a strong man, she thought hopefully.
Strong and intelligent, and filled with resolve. He must be easy to control. She could feel her heart beating faster at the thought.
She kept her eyes fixed on him as he passed from booth to booth, chatting amiably with the different botanists and making comments on how beautiful everyone's flowers were this year compared to the last.
He is too nice. He should simply crown me the winner and be done with it. Victoria looked at her nails and examined them for any flaws, letting the attempted conversations of her sister fly directly over her head until the handsome figure of the king strode up to their booth.
"Ah, my favorite flowersellers," came his cheery chuckle as the three women bowed to the king.
"As beautiful as always, I see." He took a chrysanthemum in his hands and breathed in the fresh scent, chuckling at fond memories.
"Where is your husband, my lady? And his daughter?"
"His daughter?" The questions had come so suddenly and quickly that it was plain to see the woman had been offended. She hesitated a moment, and Victoria watched her with interest until her mouth opened again.
"Daughter? No, you mean his little niece, yes. She has long since been shipped off back to her home in Heriett, Your Majesty. She will not be coming back."
"Heriett?" The king frowned.
"That is no place for a lady."
"Then 'tis a good thing she was no lady, sire." Genevieve gave a little gasp from behind, and Victoria could only once again marvel at her mother's quick wit and sharp tongue.
This will surely lead him to me now, she thought, wondering why he had seemed so agonized at the thought of the girl being sent away.
Marguerite isn't worth anything anyway. The king, who seemed completely disappointed and beside himself, gave a little sigh of frustration.
"And your husband?"
"Dead, I'm afraid. Fell ill a few weeks back."
"You do not dress in mourning."
"He was always one to prize color and light and life over darkness and sadness, Your Grace. If my clothing offends you--"
"Please." King Richard held up and hand to politely silence her.
"I apologize for my rudeness. My condolences and my sorrows are with you. I will light a candle in the church for your dearly departed husband. He was a kind man, good at his job. He will be missed by many."
Not by me. Marguerite knew better than to allow her selfish thoughts to show, however, and instead used the window of opportunity to bring forth a spark of conversation.
"He was a wonderful man. Your speaking highly of him will no doubt reach his ears in heaven, Your Grace. It warms my heart to know our king is so benevolent."
The king looked at her a moment as if examining a puzzle for the final piece, as a work of art with something missing, but Victoria tried not to take it personally.
"I am glad to be remembered fondly by my people," he stated in response.
"You are?"
"Victoria Oswald, Your Majesty. Daughter of James Oswald, the greatest jeweler in Mallowmarble."
"Mallowmarble," he repeated.
"Quite a long distance away. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vicotria and family, but I fear the rest of the festival needs draw my attention away. Again, I offer my sincerest condolences to you all."
"They are most graciously accepted." Victoria offered a low bow, one that he watched with intent as she noticed, and when he stepped away she could only feel pride in her deceiving work.
Oh, this will be easier than I thought.