Page 51 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

Eighteen

The evacuations went more smoothly than I would have ever believed possible.

Where I expected anger and panic, the people showed me stoicism and loyalty. They did not want to wait as sitting pawns for Penjan any more than I did.

So I went to the balcony of my tower, and I gave them what they were seeking when they had gathered beneath the fortress walls to chant, Long live the Queen!

I stood beside Baron Mandelian, my newly appointed chancellor, and I waved and smiled at them even as the heralds went forth through the city, sounding the evacuation orders.

Half the people would take the northern Godsway and head to Cold Garden.

The other half would take the southern road and make for Athelen.

From there, they could spread across the Southern Continent as they wished, but in the meantime, the most direct path out of the godsgrass would be the northern and southern routes.

I did not want my people caught on the plains in the event that Penjan truly did burn the kingdom.

The godsgrass would regrow. My people would not.

Despite reluctance to have him in my presence, Markus was doing most of the work in managing the evacuation.

It was, perhaps, an effort by him to make himself useful enough so that I did not remember what he had done to Tatana—as though I could ever forget.

But I ultimately needed his help, so my wrath would need to wait for more settled times.

Cazmiri came to the castle to tell me goodbye on the first day of evacuations. Juriae was waiting with most of the Radune party to hasten to Gold Harbor, where they would sail back to Orin, and then on to Radune.

She begged me to come with her, holding me in a tight embrace as though she held true affection for me. It was one bright point in my future in Nightfall—that during the time I would be forced to be there, I would at least have a friend.

I refused to leave with her, of course. There was too much to be done before I could leave the city, but I assured her that the Lord of Darkwatch would get me away safely.

The mention of Io made some sorrow cross her features. She knew what had been between us. She was there to see it for herself during the time we spent in her home, and she had seemed happy for us. She must have been one of the few who knew what I was personally sacrificing for Windemere.

I could tell she wanted to say more about it—about this whole terrible situation we found ourselves in, but she held her tongue, thankfully.

I could hardly bear my own dark thoughts about it. If she had expressed her sympathy, I might have broken down, weeping again.

And the gods only knew who she might tell about the relationship between me and Io.

I was sure the tale would reach the king eventually, no matter what I did.

It would only make it worse if it was known how broken-hearted I was after the betrothal.

And if my soon-to-be husband learned that I loved his little brother more than all the world, he might even recall his armies from Windemere.

Taiger left with the Radune party as well.

He came with Cazmiri to tell me goodbye, but since my dragon had been in the castle with me since the day following the coronation, I thought the visit had been as much to bid her farewell as me.

Taiger had bonded with the white dragon nearly as much as I had.

I briefly considered allowing him to take her along to Orin. But as I considered her, laying in her customary place along the back of my neck, I knew it would have been in vain. She would have come back to me as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

On the second day of evacuations, I visited Madia and her father to be sure they had everything they needed to leave. I rode Etreyiu through the gates with a small group of guards while my dragon flew somewhere far above.

When we reached the slums, Madia came out of her little hut beaming.

"My dear sweet child!" she said, holding me back to get a better look at me in my regal attire. "I am so glad to see you as the queen you were born to be. Your mother would be so proud!"

I held her, feeling like I was saying goodbye to the closest thing to a mother I had ever known.

We cried together—for the war that was coming and the home that we were leaving behind—the only one either of us had ever known.

Her father was away in Gold Harbor, arranging passage for them on a ship heading north.

"We have kin between Lake Enid and East Harbor," she assured me. "My sister's boy leads a group of harbingers into the wilds, bringing the holy word to the bog people. He will take us in."

I ignored her rude name for the Aozin people who lived in the Eastern Wilds. I knew Madia meant no disrespect.

She refused my offer of any assistance for her and her father. But when I pointed out to her that she might come across someone else who needed help along the way, she reluctantly slipped the pouch of gold into her apron.

If I had not had a war to fund, I might have given her the entirety of the royal treasury as her cheeks reddened with embarrassment at taking the gold.

Madia was pure and good. She was the reason Windemere was worth saving.

When the sun set that evening, I left my guards behind and took my old route out of the castle.

I was cautious as I made my way along the streets.

They were beginning to empty as more and more people left the capital, but I could barely manage to feel a sliver of fear that the people who attacked me might still be around.

It was all I could do not to stand in the middle of the street and yell his name until he had no choice but to find me.

When I reached the Mouse's Ear, it was busier than I expected it to be in the middle of a mass exodus.

Anetta met me in the taproom, her face filled with sorrow and her eyes red-rimmed. She had obviously been crying.

She gathered Igraine, Raitha, and Barrett, and we retreated to one of the private rooms in the back.

The four of us shared many of the same tears as I had with Madia, but then the whiskey began to flow, and laughter overtook the heartache. We ended up talking excitedly about the future, detailing all that we would do when times returned to normal.

The Courtesan's Guild was chief among those plans, and when Barrett asked who I would appoint to lead it, I looked to Igraine questioningly. The guild was her idea, after all. It was her passion.

Igraine looked at me in amazement, her eyes going wide, and her bottom lip quivering. It transformed her face into a heartbreaking approximation of the child I imagined her to be when she had been forced into the trade.

She let the tears flow, throwing her arms around me and weeping. It was humbling to see her, normally the most level-headed among us, brought to such heightened emotion by something so small as the honor of my notice.

She would make a wonderful guild master, a title that came with a great deal of authority in Windemere. I hoped that I would not fail her in the coming war so that she would have the chance to do it.

I left my friends after they promised they would be leaving with the first group departing the city gates at dawn, heading south to Athelen. I hoped desperately that I would see them again.

My thoughts turned maudlin again on my way back to the castle. When I was busy, my mind occupied with tasks and goals, it was easier to push away the idea of a future that did not include him. But as soon as I was alone, I felt that aching, gnashing pit in my chest open and lay itself bare.

My new quarters in the Queen's Tower were even easier to reach from the roof than the old ones had been.

So, I ended the evening as I had the others, on the rooftop, numbing the endless ache of my loss with whatever alcohol happened to be on hand, and looking up into the darkness of the night sky.

I received word from Arkadian on the third day of the exodus from Albiyn.

He and the Lithaway fyrd were halfway back to the city when they learned of the evacuation—from a dragon that flew out of the sky carrying the Lord of Darkwatch himself.

Arkadian agreed to turn his army toward Athelen, and I knew it was thanks to Io explaining that it was one of my conditions for leaving the city.

Arkadian promised to keep his men on the other side of the Thelos River and be ready when I called him to retake the kingdom from Penjan.

He had one condition of his own.

I knocked on the door of an apartment at the back of a shop on Merchant's Square. When there was no answer, I knocked again.

"Can I help you?" came a female voice behind me.

I turned to see an auburn-haired woman in long, black skirts with a matching short jacket clutching the hand of a boy of only two or three years old.

"Are you Gwen?" I asked, gaze locked on the child, whose ruddy face had split into a smile.

The woman's eyes went wide as she recognized me. "Your Majesty," she breathed, quickly bowing.

She used her hands to attempt to make the tiny boy do the same.

I laughed as he looked at his mother with indignation.

"Please," I said, reaching down to cup her elbow. "You don't need to bow."

The woman rose warily, holding the boy's hand close to her side.

"I am Gwen," she admitted, giving me a tentative smile.

"I'm Aelia, and you must call me that," I said. "But may we speak? Perhaps inside or somewhere private?"

I found I could not take my eyes off the beautiful, dark-haired boy with his soft blue eyes. Something in his features made my chest ache.

Gwen led me into the little apartment. A dress maker's form was in the corner and bolts of colorful fabric were piled on every table surface.

"Are you a seamstress?" I asked, looking around.

"Yes, Your Majesty...Aelia, I mean." She smiled apologetically.

"I suppose time is a bit short, and I should get right to the point."

She looked terrified, as though my words would somehow condemn her.

"My cousin asked me to come here—" I began.