Shuriki x Esteban Requests

The Surprise: Part 10

Esteban woke at dawn. His attire was in his usual style, though the colors were red and green with gold accents. He wanted all who saw to know he would side with Shuriki against any threat. The fact he wore two of her preferred colors and what it meant wasn't lost on her.

Shuriki helped him dress, then straightened his cravat. It was a simple task, yet one that held an intimacy to it no outsider would understand. He was her knight off to battle for her, and she was determined that he know all his efforts and the sacrifices that came with them were appreciated.

Esteban noticed she'd donned a black Avaloran gown with blue, white, wine red, and pale yellow, roses-his own colors, showing her unwavering loyalty to their marriage and all of Avalor itself.

Shuriki looked up at him with concern, but he could also see faith and love in her eyes. "I will not fail you, mi corazón."

"I know you won't," she whispered.

They shared a tender kiss and warm embrace before Esteban offered her his arm. Shuriki accepted it, and they made their way over to the council room.

Elena and the other members of the council were waiting by the door. Grisha Averchenko was inside seated at the head of the table in Elena's usual place. He wore a tailcoat of ice blue and mint green with white accents to match his arctic white trousers. His wavy sunset blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail resting on the back of his neck. He had a short boxed beard, the same shade as his hair and steel blue eyes.

Shuriki refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead, focusing on the meeting rather than the dread gnawing at her gut.

This isn't right, Shuriki thought. He ought to be in his seventies, so why does he look like he's in his late thirties?

Grisha wasn't a sorcerer. He'd never studied magic of any kind. His sister, Elizaveta, was court sorceress in the Northern Islands, but few practitioners of magic possessed the talent or the skill necessary to halt the aging process for their bodies, let alone others.

Shuriki's own youthful looks had only been a facade until her husband offered her water from the fountain of youth he'd taken from the Island of Santalos. The people residing in the Northern Islands weren't aware of the Isle of Santalos or its fountain. What was going on?

"Now that we are all here," Esteban said, taking a seat across from Grisha. "Shall we begin?"

"There's nothing to discuss," Lord Averchenko told him. "I want my fianceé returned to me and what was promised in our initial trade agreement."

"Shuriki is not your fianceé," Esteban replied. "She's my wife. This isn't up for negotiation."

Grisha glared at him. "I will have what is mine, or there will be war between our kingdoms."

Esteban stared him down. "She is not yours. No man has a right to her. She is a person, not your possession. War doesn't frighten me. We are the larger kingdom. Our allies and resources vastly outnumber and outweigh yours. I'd suggest you cease posturing and address the real reason you are here."

Elena frowned, clearly confused by her cousin's words. "What are you talking about, primo?"

Esteban stood from his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze never leaving Grisha's. "You don't want my wife. You want the throne of the Northern Islands."

Shuriki gasped. Elena blanched. Everyone else held their breath, waiting for Grisha's reply.

Grisha dipped his head. "You aren't as stupid as you look."

Esteban ignored the jab.

"What are you offering?"

"The terms are simple," Esteban answered, "You will relinquish guardianship of Crowned Prince Ilya to Shuriki. She, in turn, will convince him to abdicate, making you king of the Northern Islands. Ilya will remain here in Avalor with us, and you will have everything we agreed upon in our previous negotiations."

Grisha tilted his head up. "I need time to think on this."

"You have until tonight. There's to be a farewell banquet for our allies and their dignitaries. We will expect your answer then."

Esteban offered Shuriki his arm. She took it, and they headed for the door, their departure leaving no room for protests or counter negotiations.