Lord of the Changing Winds by Rachel Neumeier

Fox of Linularinum glimpsed a chance to bring the Delta into his grasp, he would consider it a matter of pride to reach out and take it.
    But in some ways Casmantium, across the mountains in the dry country of the east, presented a greater threat. Barely eighty years ago, it had conquered the small country of Meridanium to its northeast. Now Meridanium had a Casmantian governor and its people paid taxes to the Casmantian king in Breidechboden. Worse—from Feierabiand’s point of view—Meridanium had been more than conquered; it had been absorbed. As Meridanium no longer seemed restive under Casmantian rule, the kings of Casmantium were free to consider other projects. Everyone knew Brechen Glansent Arobern was ambitious to add another province to his possessions; everyone knew he did not necessarily consider the current border his country shared with Feierabiand to be the last word on the subject.
    So Iaor Safiad kept the Feierabiand armies blatantly visible on both borders. And he encouraged trade and business, since prosperous merchants always preferred peace and were seldom much concerned with who claimed what chunk of territory as long as the trade moved briskly. The old Fox of Linularinum would press only subtly at the river border so long as all his wealthiest subjects preferred to use the bridges for peaceful—and lucrative—trade. Similarly, as long as roads and harbors yielded trade and wealth, even the restless young king of Casmantium seemed content to confine arguments over road tolls and harbor dues to strong words rather than flashing swords and spears.
    Still, it was not astonishing that this spring Iaor Safiad would find a moment or two for flowers. He had married during the winter, his second marriage, and hardly before time, according to his court and kingdom. Iaor’s first wife had died without issue three years past and, by most accounts, the king had not been half forward enough in seeking another. Everyone hoped for heirs from his new young queen.
    The new queen, Niethe, was a beautiful young woman from a good Tiearanan family, graceful as a fawn and playful as a kitten, delighted with Iaor and her new life and still charmingly amazed by her good fortune. And the king was captivated by her. Once spring had arrived, Iaor spent more time arranging flowers to please his new bride than he did attending to the business of the kingdom, a propensity greeted with tolerant amusement by the town, and with displeasure only by those of his court who suspected that his preoccupation was merely a ruse and that they might be targets of it.
    Niethe was in her early twenties, little more than half the king’s age—her youth accounted fortuitous for the production of heirs. But, despite any calculation that had been involved in the match, Niethe seemed as pleased by Iaor himself as much as by her new royalty. Certainly she loved proof of his love for her. She loved flowers, and loved best of all the ones her lord brought to her with his own hands: She loved to be courted and made much of. And the king made much of her… a little overmuch for some of his court, who found themselves, this spring, somewhat displaced from his attention.
    Bertaud tried hard not to feel jealous of the new queen; he knew it was neither just nor sensible to resent Niethe. But sometimes he found Iaor’s focus on his new wife a little trying. He supposed he would view the matter more favorably if he found a wife of his own—but the Lord of the Delta would need to marry a woman of the Delta, and as Bertaud had no desire at all to return to his own lands, he was not eager to pursue the question. He said now, mildly, “I suppose we must enjoy the spring while it lasts; soon enough we will have the full heat of summer closing down upon us.”
    “And then we will need to contend with the bother of moving to the summer house,” Iaor agreed, but still smiling. “Well, we shall ride out when we can and, as you wisely suggest, enjoy the spring