“The rebels don’t intend to surrender?” Crown Prince Dater sounded astonished, although Emily thought it was an act. “They send this, this” - he waved the paper in the air - “list of outrageous demands and expect me to bend the knee to them?”
“Yes.” Emily met his eyes, evenly. “Can I offer a word of advice?”
“I once asked you to marry me,” Crown Prince Dater reminded her. “I wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t ready to listen to you.”
Emily cringed at the memory, then pushed it aside. “The seeds for this revolution...”
“Rebellion,” Crown Prince Dater corrected, coldly.
“The seeds for this rebellion were sown a long time ago,” Emily said. “Your aristocracy forgot its duty to the people. Your... your father made a great many mistakes that undermined his power, as well as faith in his willingness to serve his people. He had a chance to make reforms, but chose not to take it. And so, he drove people into rebellion.”
“You sound as though he brought his problems on himself,” Crown Prince Dater said.
“He did,” Emily said. “And now” - she waved a hand at the paper - “they are no longer willing to trust you and your aristocrats with supreme power. You can haggle over the terms, you can meet them halfway... but you can’t turn the clock back. They’ve broken, once and for all, your reputation for invincibility.”
Crown Prince Dater eyed her for a long moment. “And which side are you on?”
“My instructions are to convince you and the rebels to come to terms, instead of fighting to the last drop of blood,” Emily said. It wasn’t quite an answer and she feared he knew it. “And that means cautioning you - both of you - about the dangers of making impossible demands.”
“They didn’t listen to you.” Crown Prince Dater laughed, humorlessly, as he scanned the letter again. “Would they like me to cut off my manhood as well? Perhaps put my head in a noose? This is nothing less than a demand for unconditional surrender.”
“It isn’t that bad,” Emily said.
“And, even if I was inclined to agree, the aristocracy would not,” Crown Prince Dater added, dryly. “Do you think they’d surrender their rights so easily?”
“I think they need to recognize that the world has changed,” Emily said. “And that they can no longer treat people like... property.”
Crown Prince Dater met her eyes. “What can I realistically give the rebels,” he asked sardonically, “that my aristocracy would accept?”
Emily felt a flicker of sympathy. There were always winners and losers - that was practically a law of nature - and the losers, naturally, had no desire to remain losers. The aristocrats who’d lost their estates would want them back - or, at the very least, they’d expect the new government to arrange for them to be compensated. And the ones who hadn’t lost their estates - yet - would expect their property rights to be respected. It wasn’t going to happen - the peasants would come for them, soon enough - and yet it needed to happen. The rebel council was going to find itself caught in a horrific mess, unable to balance the competing demands. Which way would it jump?
You could leave, she thought. Take what you can grab and abandon the kingdom.
She sighed, inwardly. She knew Crown Prince Dater too well. He wasn’t going to cut and run. He certainly wasn’t going to become a king-in-exile, alternatively pitied and scorned by his fellow monarchs. She couldn’t imagine him moving from kingdom to kingdom like the Old Pretender. He’d be more likely to emulate Bonnie Prince Charlie and stake everything on a desperate bid to regain his throne.
“I can make a few concessions,” he said. “We can recognize some of the land grabs, if there are no more...”
Emily sighed, again. She knew that wasn’t going to get anywhere. The peasants who hadn’t grabbed their land would be pissed. They’d move to grab what they could and the rebel council wouldn’t be able to stop them. If Crown Prince Dater wanted to divide the rebels, perhaps even set off a second civil war within the first, he could hardly find a better way. He could just stroll in, afterwards, and reclaim the throne for himself.
“I don’t think that will get anywhere,” she said. “I can take it back, if you like, but...”
“Indeed,” Crown Prince Dater said. “I have already been advised, by Triune, to crown myself king. As my dead father’s legal heir, I have the right to do so.”
The king is dead, Emily thought. Long live the king.
“Furthermore, we have been in talks with Red Rose,” Crown Prince Dater continued. “I have committed to marry Princess Mariah, in exchange for troops and military support.”
Emily blinked. “She’s twelve!”
Dater gave her an odd look. “She’s nineteen.”
“She was twelve when I met her.” Emily flushed in embarrassment. That had been six or so years ago, shortly after she’d passed through Alluvia with Alassa. She remembered a bubbly little girl... she winced. Of course Mariah’s father would see her as an asset. Marrying her to the King of Alluvia would link the two kingdoms together, perhaps even unite them under Dater and Mariah’s children. “Did she agree to marry you?”
“I am to be king,” Dater said. He sounded puzzled. “Why would she decline?”
Emily shook her head. Mariah wouldn’t have been given a choice. Too much rode on the match for her to have any say in it. Her father would marry her to Dater even if he had to tie her up and carry her to the wedding. She shuddered in disgust. Dater was a better man than most aristocrats, but... he didn’t know his bride. They wouldn’t be alone together until the wedding night, by which time it would be too late...
“Perhaps you should wait until you actually win the war,” she
