Chapter 42. The Rajdevan Court — The Peacock King and Queen
Location: In the grand castle at the heart of the Peacock's Valley.
The Peacock throne room was silent save for the measured steps of Queen Charula Rajdevan as she crossed the mosaic floor. The journey back from the Raven Kingdom had been a parade of concealed humiliation; now, within the safety of their own walls, there was no need to mask it.
The throne room of the Peacock Court was exquisite tones of light jewels and most of them were the jewels themselves, streaming through high, stained-glass windows in shades of emerald and sapphire. The very opulence that a noble Raven family like the Blackmere's would find delightful in the demonstration and showing of success in riches - even if a little too colourful for their tastes.
The silken banners overhead whispered with each draft, embroidered with the sprawling royal sigil of House Rajdevan: a golden sunburst over a spread of peacock tail feathers with a kings crown at its centre.
Queen Charula Rajdevan sat with her chin resting lightly upon her knuckles, beige eyes now seemed golden in the Valley's light, even while hooded as her husband paced before her.
"Your son made a fool of himself," the Peacock King said finally, his voice rich but hard-edged. "And not only himself, of our house and our country. A diplomatic incident so great that we are losing allies, influence, and trade."
"He is our son," Charula corrected without looking up. "And you know as well as I that appearances can be mended."
At this a sigh came from the King's lips. He tried to sit to relax, but instead he sat rigid in his throne, with his great blue wings tucked tight. His eyes, the same piercing green as their eldest son, and now followed Queen Charula with the cold precision of a predator.
King Rajdevan's broad wings twitched, the iridescent green flashing gold as he turned sharply to his Queen. "Not in the Raven Court. Nox will not forget this. That woman, she stores slights like a dragon stores gold."
"What's worse is that you agreed that we would pay her to harbour this grudge against us," he said, voice low. No greeting. No preamble. "One million tonnes in gold."
"She may well forgive, if it suits her," Charula said smoothly. "Or at least she will pretend to. And if she does not, then we find a way to make our own advantage from it."
The King's eyes narrowed. "He, Chaitav, has already damaged his value as a political piece."
Charula's head inclined the barest fraction. "It was the gold, or our son's head mounted above her gates."
"Our second son," the King said pointedly. "Bhavanit remains the eldest and the heir, your first born son. Did you conveniently forget that while doting over Chaitav and coddling his peculiarities into a true political danger to us...?"
At these words the Queen seemed as though she might cry from the weight of all of her past mistakes with Chaitav, finally pressing down on her, on them... on both King and Queen. However the King refused to acknowledge it, and it was quickly becoming Chaitav. "He was meant to be a piece to play, not the match that burns the board." His green eyes gleaming with fury and frustration.
"He committed the crime," Charula replied, her tone as even as polished marble. "I did what was required to keep him breathing. Whether that was wisdom or weakness remains to be seen."
The King's fingers drummed against the armrest, each tap a metallic whisper against the gilded talon guards he wore. "Do you understand what this has cost us? A public crime against a female harpy — in Nox's court — and we are the ones left to bow. The Ravens will bleed us for this for decades, Charula. Every treaty. Every trade route. Every joint venture will carry the taste of this humiliation."
Charula allowed herself a slow, measured breath before answering. "Perhaps an arranged suitor for the second princes. As it should be, there are other daughters — imperfect, as the peacock nobles whisper.... a common female, who was born completely white... and imperfection, in the right light, can be shaped into opportunity."
The King stopped, his gaze meeting Charula's, "You would have Chaitav settle for a lesser match?"
"I would have Chaitav recover," Charula said, letting the word hang like the glitter of a blade. "His failure in Nox's court has made him a laughingstock in some circles. That harm to his confidence, I cannot stand it. If not Seraphina, or Sephora, then perhaps an unusual commoner of our own might save him from himself — but you'll only approve of it, if it strengthens our position. Otherwise…" She trailed off, the silence heavy with unspoken alternatives.
The King turned toward the great map carved into the marble floor between their thrones. The Raven Kingdom gleamed black on its inlaid surface, the Peacock lands a shining green beside it. "If he cannot bring back an alliance through marriage, then he must earn it another way. Land, wealth, loyalty — something Nox and all of the other Royals cannot dismiss."
Charula's gaze drifted to the high windows, where the light fractured over the feathers of her mantle. "Marriage is still the surest chain," she said quietly. "But perhaps not to a Raven at all. There are other noble lines....and common lines, — even within our borders — where a Peacock prince might bind and save a kingdom without the risk of Nox's talons at his throat."
The King's jaw tightened as he sat. "He will resist. You know how he is with his… tastes." It was clear that the King held no love or fondness for his second son.
"I know," Charula murmured. "And I have indulged him too long. I thought it harmless — a phase, even...but this fixation has made him more careles-."
King Rajdevan finished her sentence for her, "and carelessness is death in our game."
She rose from her own slightly smaller throne, the light catching the jeweled clasp at her shoulder. "I will speak with him. Alone. He will either temper himself, or he will be tempered."
The King watched her descend the dais with a slow, predatory grace. "And if he refuses?"
Charula paused at in the middle of the court, facing towards the great double doors, looking for the right words but not wanting to share her expression as she said them, for after all these years the King could read her like an open book. "Then... we already have Bhavanit, the true male heir. There's no need for another heir, whether that is stripping him of titles and land or,...."
Her words hung in the vaulted chamber long after she was gone, sharp as the talons they both kept hidden beneath their finery.
"I understand," The King finally declared, before resting a hand on his chin as he asked further of her before he allowed her to take leave. "I also understand that our heir Bhavanit is days from sealing his betrothal with the Flamingo royal line in a grand ceremony. The last thing this kingdom needs is the stench of fratricide wafting into that union."
The Queen turned to her husband now, her golden eyes hardened. "You would protect Chaitav for Bhavanit's sake, not for his own."
"Do you think me so sentimental?" King Rajdevan's voice sharpened, though his expression remained smooth. "Chaitav is reckless, entitled, and dangerously unskilled at masking either. But he is still a prince of Rajdevan blood. Killing him at Nox's demand would set a precedent that our enemies could smell from across the seas. It would tell them we are willing to cull our own under foreign pressure."
The King rose, slow and deliberate, every inch of him radiating controlled fury. "So instead we pay her weight in gold a thousand times over... that is also a precedent that has been set. Both are dangerous in their own right. Do you think the Ravens will thank us for all of that gold we send? No. They will pocket the gold and sharpen their black steel knives for the next chance to use them against him - or against us."
Charula met his gaze, unflinching. "Then we ensure there is no next chance."
For a long moment, the silence between them was taut as a drawn bowstring.
"Again, I ask what will you do with your son?" the King asked finally.
"Strip him of the freedom to act without oversight. Keep him in the court or under watch in his own estate, where I can watch and be informed by every move he makes." She let the words sink in before adding, "And if he falters again, to the same extent or worse, I will decide whether he falls in disgrace… or simply disappears."
The King's jaw clenched, but he said nothing more. The decision was made.
Above them, the peacock-feathered banners stirred in the faint draft, the golden threads catching the light.
They shimmered like a mirage — beautiful, regal, and concealing the truth that The Rajdevan Court of the Peacock Royals, was bleeding beneath its embelished jeweled flutters.