32: the concubine and the lover

                                    

                                          
His long white cane affectionately held to his chest, Lucien sat- or rather, nearly lay stretched- on his chair, dozing off. 
Emanating from him, and filling the room, was an almost acrid, pungent smell of the Shahark wine. 
Sitting before them in the tea room were Lady Seisel and Lady Casarine. 
The latter, was the candidate Matia had mentioned would be wearing a veil over her face, because it bore a burn mark. 
Above her silk white veil, Casarine's almond shaped grey eyes stood out. 
There was a certain stoic atmosphere about her that rivaled even court officials her father's age.  
Thalia would've blushed for the two women, if not for what she'd heard. 
Women- just like the two sitting before them- made Lucien tremble, his face drain of color like it had days ago. 
That was why he'd drunk so much. So had he been drunk every time he'd invited those barely clothed women to his chambers?
But then again- did any of that matter now? Why was she even sitting here, when Letellia was dead? 
What was the point of anything now? What would happen, if she simply walked out of the palace, right now? 
"Go-" Lucien's words were a slur. "Go ahead, my queen."
Thalia wet her lips, and straightened in her chair. "Thank you for coming, Lady Seisel and Casarine."
With a nervous smile twitching the corners of her mouth, Seisel patted down her hair. Casarine simply inclined her head. 
The first on the list of recommended questions. "What do you think is the most important trait a concubine should have?"
"Understanding, and unconditional support of the king." Seisel responded, smiling cheerily. "For he will go through thick and thin, ups and downs, many vicissitudes through his journey." 
The truly pure, the truly good and sweet aristocrat lady who's had a good upbringing. Seisel was the epitome of that lady Thalia had imagined- and envied. 
"Being a critical voice of the king," Casarine replied, glancing first at Thalia, then at Lucien. "Few in the palace will speak truth to the king. He must have honest voices to rely on."
It was not a conceited or hostile look, as that of Estera. But it was immovable, and proud, hedged by politeness. 
Under the table, Thalia nudged Lucien's foot with hers. 
It wasn't the most deferential gesture towards a king, but remnants of any apprehension she had had in Lucien's presence, were now gone. 
He could behead her and she simply could not care. 
In response, Lucien groaned, clawing back his bedraggled hair with his fingers. "Share with us...your hobbies, please. What do you do in your free time?"
Being drunk certainly brought out a person's most honest, real sides- including his accent. 
Stumbling over his words, Lucien sounded downright like a Shahark who was speaking Aesnanian. 
Although a mild pink blush came over her cheeks seeing Lucien then lay his cheek on his cane handle, dozing off, Seisel talked, sweetly and calmly. "I knit, Your Majesties. It has always been a joy to knit with my mother and spend time with her. 
"I believe knitting helps to cultivate my patience and eye for detail. I also love reading. I have little experience or knowledge beyond the district I have been living in with my parents since birth. Reading expands my horizon beyond what I know."