It was the fourth year of the war, and Cordelia rarely heard news of her father or the battle, but as long as the army did not come rushing back without her father, Cordelia was reassured that he was at least alive, but as reassuring as that thought was, the rumors about her amid her people were far more disconcerting.
Cordelia took her seat on her father's throne, her tiara freshly polished and glistening in the light streaming from one of the dozen windows. As the first of her court appointed officials began bringing the various concerns before her, Cordelia's eyes were snatched by two daughters of nobility. They were glancing at her repeatedly and conversing furiously behind their fans. Cordelia heart felt like lead, heavy and cumbersome. She turned her attention back to her official who was telling her that unless she raised the taxes, her father would not have enough funds should the war continue for another year.
Cordelia paused, weighing the decision seriously. On one hand, the kingdom needed more money to run, but on the other, the people would bear the brunt of that decision, and Cordelia was loath to make any decision that would cause her people more discomfort. Finally, after much deliberation, she spoke, "As you know, I am not in favor of raising the taxes, Sir Gerald. Is there no other way that we might pay for the war with Erubis?"
Sir Gerald all but rolled his eyes, but he seemed to catch the ire of her gaze and cleared his throat before saying, "My Lady, we have considered your wish to find other means of securing the funds, but we are unable to find any way to do so."
Cordelia looked out at the officials who gazed back without expression but try as they might they could not hide the disdain that glowed in their eyes. Cordelia knew that if her father did not make it back, it was likely that they would rise up against her. She pleaded with the Maker for her father's safe return, not only because she loved her father, but because he had no wish to die so young.
"Very well, Sir Gerald, I have heard you. Give me the night to ponder the situation myself, and I will make my decision tomorrow."
Sir Gerald choked back a sigh when Peter, the captain of the guard, glared at him, made his bow, and retreated quickly. The rest of the morning following in that inauspicious manner until, Cordelia felt that she could no longer handle the sometime foolish matters of the kingdom. She dismissed the people of the court and rubbed her temples, feeling as though she had aged a decade. Every person in her kingdom knew of her child and had judged her guilty.
It did no good to dwell on what might have been or how her life had taken this unexpected turn. It did no good to claim innocence, nor would it be right to apologize. Cordelia was left feeling as though the entire situation was impossible, and it frustrated her exceedingly. She tried to pretend that she didn't see the side-long glances from her advisers whenever she presided over the court and acted as though the open whispers and looks of disdain did not prick at her heart. Who cared what they thought? They didn't know her. They had never wanted to know her, but inexplicably, their open disgust bothered her in a way she could not have predicted. Cordelia had never been particularly concerned with what people thought of her in theory, mostly because in the past she was rarely confronted with the uncomfortable situation, but now that she was confronted almost daily with their thinly veiled ridicule, she found herself more and more affected.
After the morning court session, Cordelia found herself wandering aimlessly and decided to take a detour to the library for a book that might provide a means of distraction for her turbulent thoughts while Anna was putting John down for his nap. Because Hans was so unobtrusive, Cordelia had forgotten that he would naturally be in the library, balancing the finances of the kingdom. Cordelia walked over to him.
"Hans," she practically whispered, feeling as though her voice was amplified in the oppressive silence of the room.
"M'lady," Hans said, knocking over his chair in his hurry to stand and greet her formally.
"Please, sit," she gestured to his toppled seat and squelched the urge to right the seat herself, feeling instinctively that the gesture would not be appreciated. Hans made no move to make himself more comfortable but stood, as well as he could with his hunched back.
"Are the finances in order?" Sir Gerald's remarks from this morning were still weighing heavily on her mind, and she thought it might be good to hear Hans' perspective as he never behaved as though she was some disgusting vermin that he must tolerate.
Hans sighed deeply, "M'lady," he hesitated, seeming like he did not want to address what was obvious. "If we are to be at war much longer, your father will need money. I know that you are against it and don't want to add to the pain of the common folk, but…" He trailed off, looking as though he was about to sentence himself to death.
"I am going to have to raise the taxes," Cordelia finished and echoed his earlier sigh. It had to be done, but she was particularly loath to do it. She glanced back at Hans noting that he only stood a little taller than her because of his twisted back. "Do not fret. My advisers have also informed me of this, but I had hoped…" She looked off into the middle distance, not at any one particular thing but lost in the emptiness where thoughts invade but are impossible to settle on.
"My lady, if the people knew that you have their best interests at heart, they could hardly fault you." Hans offered in the wake of the silence.
"Yes," Cordelia agreed, "but do they know that I have their best interests at heart? Do you know that?"
"My lady," he said, trying to straighten, "That is one thing I can attest to with certainty."
Cordelia smiled at his faith in her, nodded to him in dismissal and left the library. If only everyone in the kingdom had the same faith in her.