Chapter 18: The Unsuspecting Bridegroom

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The ultimatum from Homeworld arrived the same day that Sabrina had managed to schedule Mara's wedding gown fitting. Tirqwin had now been in chrysalis for two full weeks, and they expected him to emerge any day.

Rassir stood in front of Mara as a trio of seamstresses fluttered around her; she was nearly obscured by folds of the white silk that Sabrina and the Chamberlain had discovered packed away in Shariara's rooms. "They give us two days to respond. Either we turn over Wayship Khediva and the Tirqwin, or they will declare war."

Mara frowned. "I had hoped to have the wedding before war was declared."

"It might be better this way," Sabrina said hopefully, praying desperately that Mara would not decide to get married the following day. "This way it can't be seen as a response to your marriage. Just a tactic to prevent it."

Mara put a hand to her head, provoking a squeak of frustration from the seamstress who had been pinning her sleeve. "If Tirqwin does not emerge by mid-day tomorrow, I shall try to accelerate his healing."

"Mara," Sabrina said in tones of deep disapproval. "Khediva said not to do that."

"Khediva doesn't have to worry about the political situation!" Mara snapped.

Sabrina counted to ten and reminded herself that Mara was under almost unimaginable strain.

Rassir said, "You still do not have the Council of Ministers' permission for this wedding, Your Majesty."

"Then I suggest you get it, Prime Minister, or find yourself another Queen!" Mara flashed. "I know Sabrina would be perfectly happy to scale this down to a private ceremony for the Guardian!"

Rassir bowed stiffly and left. Sabrina dropped a hurried curtsy and went after him. "Prime Minister," she called when they were in the corridor.

"Miss Devon?" he said wearily.

"Don't take her at her word," Sabrina urged. "She's under a lot of pressure, and she's probably already feeling bad for snapping at you like that."

"These are difficult days," Rassir said. "I will convene the Council of Ministers tonight, but I cannot say with confidence that the result will be what Her Majesty intends. There is considerable opposition, and even more from the regional governors and local governments."

Sabrina sighed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. I think it is due to your and your brother's testimony that we are not threatened with an outright call for abdication. To be honest, Miss Devon," Rassir said, his voice dropping, "I think if we could speak to the Tirqwin, many of us would feel better about this. There is a feeling that he is being forced into this."

Sabrina didn't say that the same fear haunted her sleepless nights. "Tirqwin isn't easily forced," she said. "I am sure that, after sending his intentions to Homeworld, Tirqwin will come to speak to you directly."

Rassir sighed, then smiled. "Well, at least I am sure of one thing. You know the Tirqwin quite well, and I am positive you would never assist in this if you thought that he would fail to go through with it." He bowed and walked off.

"I feel sick," Sabrina muttered.

Mara had finished her fitting and was in her purple dress again, surveying the purple gowns with scarlet trim being made for her attendants and Sabrina. Sabrina entered and said, "Your Majesty, I wish to speak to you."

Mara looked up. "Yes?"

"Privately, if you please."

"Sabrina, I am quite busy—"

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