Princess Farah of House Varaz knelt below the throne, her head bowed in the presence of her empress. She was young and pretty, perhaps a year or so older than Roshani herself. She could have easily passed for one of old Goshtab’s granddaughters, but Youtab had assured her that this was indeed the old lord’s youngest daughter.

She had been sent here by Goshtab Varaz, the lord of House Varaz himself, presumably to negotiate an alliance with her. Roshani knew it was only a hollow gesture. Other representatives of House Varaz were certainly speaking with Soraya and Esfandar at this moment, negotiating their own alliances. Goshtab was a clever man that way- he would align himself with whichever faction would give him the best deal, Roshani was sure.

She allowed herself a thin smile as Princess Farah bowed her head in respect. She would play her part.

“Your Highness,” Farah spoke, raising her head to meet Roshani’s gaze. “Though my father guards neutrality for the moment, House Varaz is nothing but loyal to the crown. He sent me here on his behalf, to discuss the terms of an alliance with you.”

The princess was a good liar. Her tone remained respectful, honest and her wide eyes beseeched Roshani with their sincerity. It was a farce, and they both knew it, yet it still had to be played out for the sake of the court. Crowds of nobles and lords adorned in finery and jewels regarded Farah with calculated gazes and contemplative scowls. Most were themselves from one of the six great clans, and watched the outcome of the exchange with apprehension. If Roshani could punish a princess of the great house of Varaz, then none of the great houses were completely safe.

It was a dangerous game to play, but one Roshani enjoyed nonetheless. To execute Farah to show her father a lesson about ‘neutrality’ or show mercy and let her remain in the capital? Would executing her provoke discontent and rebellion amongst her loyal lords, or fearful obedience? It was a grand puzzle to her, a delicious challenge for her mind to navigate. And the prize was absolute rule over Parthia.

Roshani regarded Farah’s open expression, and submissive demeanor. Her dark hair was wound into a bun held with a golden broach in the shape of a lotus, and the folds of her lavender robes spread out around her on the cold marble floor. Her eyes were the green of a lush jungle, a color only made more vibrant by the dark kohl underlining her eyes. Her smooth dark skin and high cheekbones made her look like an ebony carving of a yakshi, the celestial dancers of the divine realm.

She was certainly beautiful. Even further, she was wise and shrewd. A dangerous combination in an enemy. For now, it would be wisest to keep her as an ally.

“What terms does Goshtab have in mind?” Roshani asked.

“An assurance from Your Majesty that our lands will receive your full protection during the oncoming war,” Farah said. “Support from Your Majesty in the form of soldiers, supplies, and food… And, one the war has been one, that Your Majesty marry my brother, prince Azad.”

Roshani was pleasantly surprised that the princess was so forthright in her house’s demands. She would have expected her to dance around the issue, broaching it with more tact and hesitation. Roshani much preferred to skip all that nonsense. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.

The other nobles immediately stepped forward with disgruntled scowls, hands anxiously stroking their beards. Apparently, they too had not expected so brash a proposal.

“Your Majesty, you should not make such a hasty choice of husband,” A lord of House Aspabadh protested. “It would be unwise by far. Lord Goshtab is too forthcoming in his demands. We urge you not to accept too easily.”

“My father is not prone to compromise,” Farah spoke up. “It may be some time before he is able to adjust his offer, if it is not pleasing to your majesty.”

Roshani sat back in her throne, gaze roving over the small crowd of nobles assembled before her. She rested her cheek in her hand, a contemplative expression coming over her face. It was good for them to believe she was considering their words, for both Princess Farah and the lords. It was a show to play out, a tedious façade, but a necessary one. Even an empress’s rule wasn’t secure unless she kept up the appearance of listening to the counsel of her advisors.

Even before Farah had spoken, however, Roshani had made up her mind. She would not acquiesce so easily to Goshtab’s demands. His demand for her to marry his spoiled buffoon of a son was insulting enough, but worse than that was the entitlement running like a swift stream beneath his words. He thought he had the power to manipulate her, to dictate her actions. Roshani suppressed a vindictive smirk. She would soon prove him wrong.

“I will take time to think about this offer,” she announced after a sufficient amount of time had passed. She stood up from the throne, surveying the nobles. Most looked relieved by her decision, while others looked anxious. They were the more intelligent ones, the ones who realized how quickly this war could turn against them if Goshtab Varaz was not on their side. Roshani’s jaw clenched imperceptibly. They were right, of course. If Lord Goshtab aligned House Varaz with Esfandar… Suffice it to say that Roshani did not want to calculate those odds. She straightened her shoulders, resolute. Nothing was worth sacrificing her power to lesser men. This was a risk she was more than capable of dealing with on her own.

“Princess.” Farah immediately bowed her head as the empress addressed her. Roshani smiled in her direction. “You will hold the position of emissary of House Varaz until such time as I have come to a decision. Is that satisfactory to you?”

Of course it wasn’t. But the princess had no way to say so, and both women knew it.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said instead. She raised her head and met Roshani’s gaze, her eyes gleaming with intelligence. Roshani quickly turned her gaze back to the rest of the lords.

“The matter has been settled,” she proclaimed, voice emanating out to the grand hall. “This council is now dismissed.”