Page 197 of Nine-Tenths
Even still, she is scary as fuck.
Leicester nestles a tiara in the queen's hair. It's gold too, groaning with gemstones and filled with more symbolism than I can decipher. A quick glance tells me that the other two folks must be royalty as well. The guy’s wearing a circlet similar to Dav's, with finials made up of a cluster of curly leaves, and many pearls; the woman beside him wears a subtler tiara. My braincatches up, and I finally recognize them from the tabloids my own unfortunate face has been splashed all over.
This is the Duke of Sussex, and his human, American wife.
Okay, so, royal family all around. Awesome.
Not even remotely intimidating.
Fuckingcheck.
Deep breaths, Colin,I tell myself.Don't fidget.
And then the duke says: "Welcome, Lord Alva-draig George Tudor, blood of the two great lines of England and Wales, Marquess Niagara." Dav flinches at his middle name, which, fuck, that's cruel as hell to drag out right now. "Welcome, Colin Fergus Levesque, Dragon's Own, Favored of the Marquess Niagara."
I notice that my parentage isn’t as important as whose property I am. Ugh.
"My thanks," Dav says, "on behalf of my Favorite and myself, Your Grace."
Oh, good. I'm actually happy the infantilizing traditions means that Dav's expected to speak for me, for once. My throat is so dry it clicks—I don't think I could have said anything if I wanted to.
There's not even any water available. This feels less like Elizabeth Regina is trying to intimidate us, and more like an active and deliberate 'fuck off.'
"And now that the formalities are over with," the queen says. "We shall begin the business."
Dav clears his throat. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It's a delight to be back. I have missed the court."
Liar,I think.
"And yet you accepted territory in Canada," the queen points out, amused.
Dav coughs discreetly, caught out. "The circumstances of that, ah, event are well known," he says, thrown off his patter.
"Yes, they are," the queen agrees. How much is actually being said under all the empty pleasantries? How much am I missing? "We celebrate your sister's arrival and the security of the Plymouth territory."
"Indeed, ma'am," Dav says. "And to the matter of territory, Your Majesty, my march borders the Onguiaahra territories, and I've had the great privilege of witnessing—"
Elizabeth Regina holds up her hand, palm out, and Dav trickles to a stop, confusion crawling over his face. My stomach drops.
Oh no.
"You misunderstand the point of this audience, Marquess," the queen says, and it's both vicious and gentle.
Pitying.
But acidic.
Oh shit.
And my poor sweet, earnest,honestDav, hasn't gotten there yet.
"I think I do," Dav concedes after it's clear that Elizabeth Regina is waiting for him to reply. "I was given the impression that we'd been invited to present our research."
"No, Marquess," the queen says. "I have heard more than enough about your discussions with our northern neighbors to make up my mind about your research."
My brain catches on the wordabout.
About.
