"Good morning, highness." Ronan curtsies slightly, as if to greet me for the first time. The little minx. My lady, now towering over me as advisor to the crown, is an orchid in a gutter- the rest of my counsel is left over from my father's court. They sit as fragile as aging pottery, and I almost expect them to arrive each day covered in dust. The oldest among them. Andrew, has already began to snore in his chair by the window. The rest sit, many in corners, leaning on canes, contributing only judgement. It seems only my lady is engaged to prepare the treaty arrangements. When the doors to the audience room opened to me, she alone walked towards me, while the others took their time and stand to bow. Even on our feet, she is at least a head taller than me. Now Andrew has jolted awake, nods at me, and returns to his slumber. He's not worth making an example of, and the rest of the counsel is painfully aware of this.
"At your ease." In spite of the beauty now standing before me, I remember my manners.
I bow my head, giving my lady barely a glance, and quickly assume my seat in the audience room. The council, as is customary, follow suit and sit down. Only Ronan remains standing, returning to her concentration on a spread of maps and papers scattered about the table in the center of the room. The remnants of my father's council stop and stare at her.
I stare too, perhaps for the wrong reasons. Her dark hair has been neatly braided back, intricate coils laiden with pins set with pearls. The pearls compliment the embroidery on a burgundy gamurra that cinches in her waist, and seems to float when she moves back from the table to assess the stillness of the council. I'm certain I paid for this gown, and she looks incredible. I want to savor her, take my lady by her delicate waist and kiss her perfect neck. Instead, I set down my slack-jawed schoolboy fascination with her. Instead, the crown Prince of Verona, seated while his advisor stands, clears his throat.
She turns pink and surrenders into a chair. "I cry your pardon, my lord."
Instantly, my schoolboy heart melts. "Think nothing of it, Councilor." I offer her a chaste smile. How I long to touch her in comfort. Her brow softens, and I die. "You had mentioned, Thursday last, that you had found past attempts at a treaty between the houses?"
My advisor, the head of council, straightens in her seat. "Yes, sire. In the state records, it appears a variety of formal warnings were given both to Lord Capulet and Lord Montague."
"How many is several, Councilor?"
"Sixteen."
A few members of the half-asleep council guffaw and mutter to one another until the young advisor silences them with an addition. "Eleven of which were issued by King Proteus."
I have my own disputes with my father's reign, his persistence not the least among them. "And how many have I issued in the past year? Remind us, please."
"Four, highness."
"Four" I boast to the council. "And the remaining one is the plea for armistice issued by Mantua, is it not?"
"Yes, my lord. My proposition would require both families to be accountable. Debts owed to each other would be put into writing and paid upon signing the treaty," she places a map before me with inscriptions neatly inked along a border, "and both families would agree to permanent agreed-upon boundaries."
Since she left my bedchambers, it appears Lady Ronan had produced a document for each head of house to sign with the details outlined. And I had barely managed to dress. She modestly sets it over the map and waits with breath held for my approval. "This is nothing short of brilliant, Councilor. And you've allowed room for..."
"Trade agreements, yes, highness. I thought it might be best if the two families were encouraged to benefit from one another. Both possess considerable wealth on their land, as you can see. All this," She gestures, hand just grazing my own over the parchment to show on the map. "is farmland."
The fingers on my right hand drum the polished oak of the tabletop, and the seal I wear on my ring finger makes a clicking sound as it hits . "But...perhaps all of this is agreed upon by the heads of each household. Then what's done to control the laymen they employ, and their families?"
There's a fire in her spirit and she strains to contain her enthusiasm in her seat. I can see her mind speeding for an answer. "A fine of three hundred lire could be fined to anyone found involved on disputes from either side."
"Awfully low, don't you think?" I deliver the question to the rest of the room, only to find none of the council attentive. Once again, many had dozed off. Andrew has his nose in a bible, for a reason unknown to me. This does not concern me. "Why not six hundred?"
"Financial gain is not the concern, is it? Most of Verona does not live as you do, sire. The fee would be enough to motivate most of the remaining troublemakers on either side to cease arms, but the collections could be used to repair damages caused by the feud."
Clever girl. "So if they don't behave, some peace is still being worked for."
"Precisely."
"This is excellent, Councilor."
"Merely attending my duties." Her cheeks flush again.
"Don't be so modest." The table and the circumstance are the only two things keeping me from kissing her. I stand, and by custom so does she, though I step in closer as to murmur. "Do you know how crucial you are to the state, Councilor?"
"Am I crucial, my prince? Enlighten me."
"Madam, the state would be nothing without your wisdom and grace." My hands draw themselves to her waist, delighting in my dusty absentee council granting my ability to be close to her again.
"I am honoring the vows I took as high advisor, sir." She sets my hands down. Her touch shoots sparks through my fingers and up into my arm. Her gaze intensifies, full of wanting, and our mouths are close enough to sin together. "I assure you, the state speaks too much of me."
I laugh softly, taking her hand in mine again while the other lightly grazes her cheek, her chin, her shoulder, the small of her back, as close to touching without allowing either of us satisfaction of touch. "The state would never dare speak falsehoods about council, my good lady. It is in the best interest of the state to do as you say. You musn't be so humble."
"Humility is what is called for, is it not?" Her breast heaves as she asks.
"Were I in your position I would far less modest." I raise an eyebrow and see her gaze darken.
