Page 49 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

Seventeen

I only saw him once in the following few days, but it seemed like I saw everyone else in Windemere far more than I would've liked.

There were council meetings, official investiture ceremonies, more council meetings, and strategy sessions where we went over the plans for the coming war. And that was all within the first full day of my reign.

The eldermen had finally voted to summon the fyrds. Birds flew from Windemere to call up the soldiers of each of the eleven great houses, along with all the lesser estates, to amass the army to defend her golden plains.

The betrothal ceremony happened the second morning after my coronation. I once again woke in my bed, bleary-eyed with a splitting headache after drinking far too much whiskey in an attempt to fall asleep.

The cut on my palm seemed to flare to life with each passing hour. Itching had blossomed into fiery heat, and when I glanced under the bandage, it looked red and angry.

I knew I must have looked dreadful as I waited in the council chambers in my new seat at the head of the table for the Nightfall emissaries to arrive.

Io had to come. He was the only one with the appropriate royal permission to sign as proxy for his grand high Majesty Behr Iomhar Aldur.

The middle name written on the document set before me had nearly broken me in two. That was the moment when I truly realized the ramifications of the fact that they were brothers, and I was being forced to marry the wrong one of them.

I looked over the terms of the sovereign marriage contract again, trying to cease the endless pricking of tears behind my eyelids. Not for the first time, I wondered what could have prompted the king to be so generous in his terms.

Along with millions of gold pieces, even more silver, and countless goods, the contract gifted the Twilight Gap back to Windemere.

The Gap was the narrow strip of land that joined the two halves of Alterra. It had once allowed Windemere to control commerce and travel between nations, keeping a stranglehold on goods going north to Nightfall.

A war had been fought over the land—a small, but bloody one. Nightfall prevailed and they controlled the gap for hundreds of years. It made no sense that they would so willingly hand it back to us.

There was more here than met the eye. Nightfall would know we were in no position to bargain, and yet, they had come right out at the start with an offer we could not refuse.

Lands, estates, and titles in Nightfall, the sovereignty of my own kingdom assured, and the promise of protection from any foe who came against me.

Why? The question was a constant litany in my head. Why did they want me so badly?

There was very little in the contract for them besides me.

It included the mutual support of my human armies, but the idea of humans defending the fae was laughable.

The guaranteed trade in godsgrass was certainly a boon for them, but Nightfall's emissaries had already worked out a godsgrass deal that was beyond lucrative for them. It made no sense.

When the hour ticked past with no sign of him, I rose from my seat and went to the window.

I was alone in the chamber with only my own thoughts for company.

I had insisted on that much, at least—that the eldermen wait outside while the proxy and I discuss the terms. They could come into the chamber to witness the signing, but I needed just one fucking moment with him alone.

..before I bound myself irrevocably to his brother.

The window overlooked the portion of the city around the gates. The wall rose ugly and harsh against the bright golden hills.

I remembered the way the city looked from the sky—so out of place—like a fat tick set upon the flanks of some beautiful golden beast, sucking the life from it.

The thought made me shiver as I listened to the gentle clicks of the massive clock set against the wall.

And then the door opened, and I held my breath as I felt the air stir my hair. The maids had braided it down my back in a loose braid and then wound delicate gold chains in among the white strands. It made me look like my hair was gilded.

I shed the heavy godsgrass crown for a simple gold circlet laid across my brow and nestled into my hair.

A simple white gown, gathered just below my breasts with a skirt that only slightly grazed the floor, was the finishing touch to what I hoped would be an appropriate ensemble for this horrible farewell.

I turned when I knew I could no longer wait to do so without looking rude—or worse, totally, tragically heartbroken, and he was there.

Proud, tall, heartbreakingly beautiful as always, with a coldness in his features that I had never seen before.

He didn't speak and neither did I. I was sure that if I opened my mouth, a sob would race its way up my throat and shame me for the weak creature that I truly was inside.

So I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached and looked down at that hateful document on the table between us.

He spoke first, of course. He chastised me for patience, but I knew he had very little himself.

"I'm..." He sighed. "I'm very sorry, Aelia."

My eyes shot up to meet his, surprise flitting through me. I had expected...something like anger at the betrayal I was committing.

How very stupid you are, girl, I heard in my mind. Was that my father's voice? Surely not. He would never have sounded so cold.

"Why?" I asked, not even sure whether I was asking why he was sorry...or why this was happening.

"I'm sorry that you've been put in this position by my brother, by your eldermen, by this reeking piece of shit King of Penjan."

I nodded once. "Thank you...My Lord," I told him.

We both winced at the words, at my use of his title.

I looked down at the document again. "Why has your brother offered these terms for me?" I asked, nodding in the direction of the parchment laid out across the table.

He didn't answer for a long while, and then he stepped to the table to read. Had his brother not even informed him of his plans? That seemed unbelievable.

I stepped to his side as he read, to track along with him the terms I already knew by heart. I stood close enough to smell him, his scent so familiar that I felt a painful clenching in my chest. I almost stepped away.

When he had finished, he shook his head. "I don't know, Sera."

He almost imperceptibly winced again at the use of my familiar name. I knew it was a habit that would be hard to break—for both of us. But names were somehow very important to him, and I knew he no longer felt he had the right to use mine.

"They are far too generous," he admitted. "But...despite that, Behr will honor the terms, and you will be in no danger from Nightfall. He will send you the men. Nefr already received word that the armies are ready to march."

"Will they get here in time?" I asked. My voice was surprisingly clear, not betraying the fear that laced the words.

"Armies do not move quickly," he admitted. "And Penjan has been sighted only a few days' journey from the northern coasts. My own riders have confirmed it. You need to leave the city."

"You mean that I should evacuate the people?" I asked.

"No. I mean you. The Queen should leave the city so that you do not make a prize for this king who has already expressed an interest in you personally."

"I cannot just abandon my people," I said. "Will your dragon riders not be here to defend us?" It shamed me to ask the question. What right did I have to ask that of him?

"There are not enough of us, not by half, to hold the city against a million soldiers and a legion of Wyvern. I can carry you away at least—let you regroup in Orin, and when your armies arrive, I will take back the city for you."

I shook my head. "Even if I was willing to abandon the people, I would never leave my cousin to fend for himself. I would never leave Tatana and Set behind."

"And you are not willing to abandon your people," he said, mirroring my own thoughts as he stated the obvious.

He put a finger under my chin to tip my face up. His eyes were slightly warmer, but his face was still edged by some icy severity that I had no name for.

"There is no sense in throwing your life away for your people, Sera. Penjan will take you. They will force you to wed this Prince—breed the Shadowlands into your line, and Windemere will be lost forever. If they do not burn the godsgrass, they will hoard it, starve the continent."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he stilled me with a look.

"I heard what happened in that throne room. You are the Golden Queen—prophecy made flesh. You are Windemere, and to get through this, you must survive."

"What do you mean prophecy made flesh?" I asked.

He spoke softly, by memory. The words that I had also heard a thousand times or more—from the mouths of the Presarion priests.

"The sleeping angel bleeds red gold. Angels weep.

Angels die. Angels rise. Aelia, Aelia, redemption.

" The words made the fine hairs all down my neck and back stand on end.

"Death stalks across the plains as godslion's teeth rend flesh of the twice born king.

Wings and drums beat. Aelia, Aelia, savior. "

I started to shake my head. "That is not—"

But he continued. "She harbors the seed of salvation and ruin. Aelia, Aelia, hope." He paused, letting his last word fade off into the silence of the room.

The prophecy was near ancient, spoken by some long-dead Arkyllan oracle under Kazhar Dun, the great mountain wreathed in smoke and shadow. It was well known. They called it the Totampresario. Much of Windemere's religion seemed to spring up around it.

And it most certainly did not speak of me.

My name had come from the prophecy itself.

It was the reason so many of the Presarion-named children were called Aelia and had been for hundreds of years.

The other name mentioned, Adrill, the destroyer, had not been used anywhere in Alterra for just as long.