Page 3 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

I was expected to be there, but that was all. I was given a seat along the wall to learn and observe, in a chair so short it made me feel like a child, so that I could sit silently while a group of people decided my fate and that of my kingdom.

"Why are they forming an enclave?" I asked, pausing my exercise and lowering my blade. My breaths were ragged. I realized I may have pushed myself a little harder than I should have.

"Penjan has taken Arkyl," Markus said, watching my face for a reaction.

I wanted to react, perhaps gasp in shock and horror, if only to prove to him that I was not as ignorant as he believed me to be.

But in truth, I didn't even remember where Arkyl was.

Penjan, I knew, of course. They were the scourge across the sea in the Shadowlands.

But Arkyl could have been on the moon or in the middle of the Red Desert for all I knew.

Arkadian picked up on my oblivious expression and filled in the details. "Arkyl is southwest of Penjan, on the coast of the Black Sea. It's the largest kingdom in the Shadowlands, aside from Penjan, of course," he added helpfully. "They would not have been taken easily."

"There is talk that they’re heading for Balus, though I have learned that talk is often unreliable," Markus said with a self-important grimace.

"We need eyes and ears in the Shadowlands, Markus," Arkadian said, as though it was an old argument between them.

"We have no need to involve ourselves in the other continents," Markus said shortly. "We have enough trouble with the mages at our own border."

"What trouble is there with Nightfall?" I asked.

"None at all," Arkadian interjected with a sigh.

"They are a constant looming threat to our kingdom, and we would do well to remember that," Markus warned.

"Existence is not a threat," Arkadian said, exhaling irritably.

Markus looked affronted. The topic of the fae was an old argument between them; between us all. The regent was constantly convinced that the mages in Nightfall had their sights set on conquering the southern continent.

The fact that they showed no signs of that, and very little interest in the human realm at all, did nothing to quell his incessant claim that Windemere must be ready for war with Nightfall.

"When they bring their dragons south to burn the godsgrass, you will both see how wrong you are," he said, pointing his meaty finger at each of us in turn.

"If they wanted to burn the godsgrass, they could have done it any time in the last...I don't know, five thousand years," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Arkadian said. "Besides, Aelia's parents were friendly with King Aris. What reason would his son have to burn the kingdom now when their daughter is set to take the throne?"

Markus huffed. "I do not pretend to know why the fae do the things the fae do. But as to that, they were not friendly with King Aris. My sister traded correspondence and vases with his Withian queen. I hardly call that enough good will to sway their armies from amassing at the border."

"Very well, Markus," Arkadian said, rolling his eyes. "You keep your eyes trained on Nightfall. I, for one, will keep mine on the real threat from the dark continent."

"All mages are a threat to the realms of men!

Fae, elves, witches, even dwarves with their metallurgy!

Any and all would take your crown if you showed the least amount of weakness, Princess.

And those are just a few of the vile mageborn scum who stalk the dark corners of our world.

There are threats from every front! Beings that do not even bear description!

Which is why it's imperative that you have a strong king at your side when you take your throne.

They are all deterred by the fact that I sit the throne now, but mark my words, if you do not choose well for yourself—a strong man to lead your reign—they will wrest the kingdom from your weak little hands. "

Arkadian and I had both gone silent to allow him to finish his tirade.

We had long since realized letting him get it all out was the quickest way to be rid of him.

And it was easier when I did not personally provoke him too much.

Even as his control over me lessened with the council's interference, there were other ways he could hurt me, through others I cared about, in far worse ways than if he punished me himself.

The council meeting was more of the same; arguing about the merits of sending spies to Penjan and fending off Markus' attempts to stir things up with Nightfall.

"My spymaster can be in Penjan within three months' time," Bryce Mandelian, the dark skinned, blue-eyed Baron of Mandel said. He was standing at Mandel's place at the long council table, leaning on a fist resting on the seal of his house; a roaring godslion inlaid into the wood.

"I have no intention of allowing Windemere to interfere in the affairs of elves!" Lord Tithian put in, leaning back in his chair to give his sizable belly room behind the table.

"You say that like they are not already spreading across the globe, conquering kingdoms!" added Lord Lunke, the Baron of Darrow, a city at the edge of the Elderwood Forest. His bald head with its ring of long, white hair, rested low against the chair's back, proving his one-quarter dwarf heritage.

"I hardly call annexing Arkyl spreading across the globe. You take for granted that it was not justified," Markus said, eliciting a hiss of disapproval from the Baroness of Khiebol at the other end of the table.

"There is no justification for invading another kingdom," someone said. I couldn't see the speaker from my vantage point, but it sounded like the Baron of White Spear.

"There is justification to invade if they are committing evil acts against their own people!" Lord Tithian shouted.

"Or against others," The high priestess intoned.

"As Penjan has done by taking Arkyl?" Arkadian pointed out.

Everyone at the table knew Penjan was in the wrong.

They were an evil empire full of wicked, dark magic.

Arkyl was likely only marginally better, but it didn't change the fact that the invasion meant Penjan was once again on the move, conquering nations.

The Duke of Divestra leaned forward to peer along the length of the table. "I have it on very good authority that Penjan has sent the Black Fleet to Balus. That is a very short distance from Caraduin, and then..."

"Alterra is next," The Baroness of Khiebol supplied. The thought of Penjan coming to our continent sent a wave of anxiety through me.

"On whose authority did you hear that they are heading for Balus?" Arkadian directed the question to the Duke of Divestra.

"I will not reveal that, pup!" The Duke said, looking affronted.

"Because you've made it up, or because you dare not reveal that you've had dealings with Castille for the last thirty years, trading in secrets and illegal magic?"

I looked at the Duke of Divestra in shock.

Castille was a well-known black-market merchant with ties to the Shadowlands.

He operated on the notoriously wicked end of Antevemer Street, or as many in Windemere called it, the street of sin.

Antevemer was where anyone in Albiyn went if they had need of the various vices on offer; sex, gambling, drinking, drugs, or illegal magic.

The table went silent as the Duke of Divestra fumed, his face turning nearly purple with rage. "You rutting, disrespectful little cunt!" he spat, pushing up to his feet. "I will not sit here and have my reputation maligned by the bastard son of—"

"Willem!" The Baroness of Khiebol said to the Duke of Divestra, pulling her aged self up from the chair. "I will remind you of your honor, sir!"

Surprisingly, the Duke fell silent. But his hands were shaking where they lay against the House of Divestra's field of falling stars on the table. He nodded to the Baroness, though he looked a bit reluctant to do so.

He turned to Arkadian with a look of pure, cold fury on his face. "I will remind the Duke of Lithaway of his own honor.” His words were laced with venom.

Arkadian, for his part, did look almost regretful. He nodded his head once, still glaring, while the Duke of Divestra sat back down in his chair.

The eldermen moved on to discussion of the trade summit while the two Dukes continued shooting dark looks at each other across the table.

The nobles grew increasingly long-winded as they detailed each house's contribution to the gathering, where agreements for commerce between various houses and other parts of the world would be decided.

"We will, of course, reserve the first round of negotiations for Athelen and Castering," Markus said, referring to the two kingdoms that lay on our southern border.

"But Nightfall has asked for a larger consideration this year.

They say they have been sending much of their grain to Valashtier to relieve the famine there. "

"What do they offer in return?" Baron Tithian asked, leaning forward in his chair as though eager to profit from the news of famine. It rankled me to see such a man hold so much power in my kingdom.

"The usual; gold, silver, other goods but also...idylstone and nesericum silk," Markus said.

There was a gasp near the end of the table. I saw the high priestess' attempt to cover her obvious glee with her gloved hand.

I wasn't sure which she was more excited about, the precious blue gems or the impossibly strong, light silk that was spun from inky black spider webs. It was worth a fortune for a single yard because it was impervious to fire, even dragon flame.

The eldermen spent several minutes making a half-hearted attempt to appear as though they might reject the idylstone and silk from Nightfall, and then the trade discussion went on from there to other topics, other goods, other kingdoms. I felt my eyes glaze over from boredom as I struggled to keep my attention on their words.