Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

G winellyn’s pacing was driving me to distraction. Her footsteps were muffled against the thick, patterned rug covering most of the floor, but the tense, anxious energy rolling off her in waves was enough to make me grind my teeth as I tried to focus on the book on Sarmiers I’d found in the bookcase. More of a travel guide than any source of political information, but I knew next to nothing about Oceatold so it seemed as good a place as any to start. Not that I could take any of it in when Gwinellyn kept flitting past me. I looked up from the book to shoot her the next in a series of looks that had so far failed to keep her from wearing out the rug. Her eyes were unfocused, her dark brows knitted together, and she gnawed on a thumb nail as she walked the length of the room, gaped at the bookcase lining one of the walls for a moment, then turned and darted to the enormous window overlooking that thrashing grey ocean below. Then she drifted to the tea table, circled a chaise lounge and it was back to the bookcase again.

‘Gwinellyn,’ I finally barked, smacking the book down. She startled, her focus snapping back into the room as she immediately dropped onto the chaise like it had been her intention to sit there all along, her spine ramrod straight and eyes wide like that of a rabbit who has just caught the scent of a fox. ‘Talk,’ I demanded. ‘I’d rather hear your chatter than endure the pacing.’

‘I have no power here,’ she said immediately. ‘King Esario doesn’t see me as an equal. To him, I’m just a princess.’

‘Yes,’ I said, raising my eyebrows. ‘What else did you expect?’

‘I’m the rightful heir to the Brimordian throne. I guess… I thought he’d treat me like he would have treated my father.’

I snorted. ‘Of course not. Just because you’ve decided you want to claim your birthright doesn’t mean they’ve stopped seeing you as a political trading piece. Esario would prefer to manage you the way your father always did than respect you as a potential ruler in your own right. You’re going to need to force him to take you seriously as a queen if you don’t want him to use you for his own ends. You’re here under his hospitality. Your throne has been usurped. You have less political power now than you ever have.’

She slumped in her seat, clasping her hands together on her knees and staring down at them. ‘If I have no power, how am I supposed to get them to listen to me?’

‘I didn’t say you have no power, I said you have less political power than ever. But you have something you’ve never had before as well.’

She looked up, her brow still knitted tight. ‘What’s that?’

‘You want it,’ I said simply. ‘You want to wear the crown and call the shots. You believe you should have it.’

‘It’s not that I think I should—’ she began.

‘Fuck that,’ I snapped, cutting off whatever apologetic reasoning she had been about to hide behind. ‘Don’t undermine yourself or you’re doing their job for them. Do you think Esario feels like he has to apologise for being king? You want it. Don’t drain away the power in that by making excuses for it. The question isn’t whether you should want it. It’s whether you want it badly enough to take it.’ I almost added and what you’re willing to do to take it , but stopped myself just in time. It would be imprudent for me to forget that what I had been willing to do was enchant and kill her father. Or that the reason she was looking at me with that rapt admiration in her big blue eyes was because she believed I’d been under enchantment myself when I had.

Which I had been. In a way.

She took a deep breath. ‘I want to take back my crown,’ she said, her voice quiet but steady. I twisted my mouth as I studied her. She still said it like she was admitting to a dirty secret, but at least she wasn’t trying to tack a justification onto the end.

‘Then that’s enough,’ I said, inhaling sharply and digging my nails into my palms a moment later when I realised I was beginning to sound like Draven. He materialised in my mind in an instant, dark head cocked, grey eyes fixed on me. Kneeling beside me. Washing the blood from my hands.

‘Of course, if you want a little leverage to back that belief, you do have something else you can draw on to make them take you seriously,’ I added, gripped by the sudden urge to prove myself dangerous and invulnerable.

Gwin’s expression turned wary, like she already knew what I was going to say. ‘What’s that?’

‘Me.’ I flexed my hands, focusing my magic, enhancing it, enflaming it slightly until volts of lightning were leaping between my spread fingers.

‘Rhi…’ Gwinellyn was already shaking her head. ‘You know we’re keeping your magic a secret.’

I snapped my hands shut, extinguishing the sparks. ‘Why? It’s ridiculous. I don’t need to skulk away in the shadows. They should know what they’re really negotiating with.’

‘But you don’t know enough about it yet,’ she said, picking her words carefully. ‘You don’t know your limits or how to control it.’

‘I would if your friends would deign to teach me,’ I seethed.

‘But even if they did and you had more control, we’re here trying to build a new alliance. We don’t need King Esario to be any more suspicious of you than he already is. I’m already going to be trying to convince them to change their minds about the Yoxvese.’

A knock rang through the room, forcing me to swallow my reply as Gwinellyn cleared her throat and sat up straight again.

‘Come in,’ she said.

The door swung open, revealing a richly-dressed man who bowed with a flourish of his hands, feathered hat fluttering. Dark curls, a neatly groomed beard, straight, proud nose and eyes that very quickly took in first Gwinellyn, then me. His brows flickered higher as he took in my face, but whatever his reaction to the scars, he’d hidden it before I could read it.

‘Welcome princess,’ he began. ‘I am Minister Victus Gedelli. His Majesty sent me to escort you and your stepmother to the Astronomy Gallery to meet with his cabinet.

‘Astronomy?’ Gwinellyn echoed as she rose to her feet.

‘His Majesty has a keen interest in tracking the stars. He holds most of his meetings in the Astronomy Gallery.’ He dropped his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. ‘And he likes to remind us that he is very important and very clever by surrounding us with all of his fancy instruments.’

Gwin choked on a laugh, touching her fingers to her mouth to hide a smile.

‘It is also very high up and almost impossible to find, which is useful for losing his less determined ministers. But never fear, Your Highness. I’m an old hand at the journey by now. I’ll steer you right.’ He cocked an elbow.

‘Thank you,’ she said as she gingerly accepted the offered arm.

‘Minister Gedelli,’ I said as I sized him up carefully. ‘Minister of what exactly?’

‘Oh, this and that,’ he replied as he steered Gwinellyn through the doorway. He paused at the threshold to turn and drop a wink. ‘But you can call me Vic, Mrs Soveraux.’ Hearing that name again hit me like a punch to the stomach, though one I absorbed without retaliation this time.

‘Then repay the favour. Rhiandra, please.’ My tone was icy. I didn’t want to be on a first name basis with him, but I wasn’t going to endure being called Mrs Soveraux while I was here. What would I do instead? I could insist on reverting back to Beafort, the false name I’d used before marrying Linus. What I really wanted was to demand they all continue to call me Your Majesty. I was, after all, still technically a queen, at the very least a dowager if not still a regent.

Or maybe I was none of those women I had once been at all. None of these names or titles seemed to fit me anymore, and my real name, Tiercelin , had never truly felt like it belonged to me in the first place, with all its ties to my mother’s estranged noble parents. I wasn’t sure who I was, really. I was a long way from the woman on that rainy street corner Draven had seduced into a deal.

Almost unconsciously, I reached for the thrum of magic in my veins, that prickling vibration ready to be drawn into my hands. What did I care for the phony authority of political titles? I had more power in my bare hands than any of them.

I could hardly wait for the moment they all realised that.

‘Vic’ led us through a series of winding hallways and stairwells in our trek to one of the elevated towers of Bright Keep. The place was a testament to indulgence masquerading as grandeur—walls adorned with tapestries depicting long-forgotten victories, their edges frayed and mottled with age. The sconces lining the corridor, fashioned from tarnished gold, burned with an anemic light, as if reluctant to illuminate the decay around them. There was little magic to be seen.

‘We’re nearly there,’ Vic cheerfully shot over his shoulder.

‘Good. I’d hate for anyone to think we were trying to waste time,’ I muttered.

The door to the Astronomy Tower loomed ahead, a heavy thing of oak reinforced with iron bands. Vic pushed it open with some effort, revealing a chamber perched high above the keep, its domed ceiling a lattice of steel and glass, the cloudy sky visible above. A long table stood in the centre, strewn with maps and scrolls.

The chatter of everyone milling about the room ceased as we entered, dozens of eyes fixing on us. King Esario strode forwards wearing a broad smile and another ensemble of glinting buckles and rich fabric.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said, waving his hand. He offered an arm to Gwinellyn and led her into the room, all but ignoring me. I swallowed my indignation and followed along behind them as he swiftly introduced her to a bevvy of men, some I assumed were his own advisors and ministers, others I recognised from the Brimordian court. The watery-eyed Lord Faucher had somehow made it over the border, it seemed. He was regarding me with a much less friendly air than I was used to from him. There were a few others who’d once sat with me at the table of my own High Council who were now stewing in thick hostility as they muttered to each other. Not that they’d ever been the most welcoming as far as I was concerned, but there seemed to be a distinct increase in the amount of suppressed violence in the room.

‘And, of course, you’ll recognise your Grand Weaver. Dovegni has been making himself very useful to us.’

My stomach churned as the sallow, reedy man stepped forwards, eagerly crossing the room, eyes fixed on Gwinellyn. He’d never been a beacon of robust health, but now he looked worse than ever. His skin seemed to cling too tightly to his skull, revealing his eye sockets and the hollows of his cheeks, and there was a yellow tinge to the whites of his eyes. Exile wasn’t suiting him well, then. Of all the insects in the Anthill, why did he have to be the one who escaped Draven’s reign of terror? Was the self-styled Blood King really so ineffective that he’d let Dovegni get away? And here I’d been thinking that the one thing I could rely on my pseudo-husband for was being ruthlessly lethal, but apparently I couldn’t even trust him to do that.

‘Princess.’ Dovegni took Gwinellyn’s hand and kissed it. ‘What a miracle to see you standing before us, alive and in good health. We’re grateful to Aether and Madeia for this blessing. We all despaired you long departed.’

I curled my lip as I watched this spectacle of devotion, entertaining the idea of smacking him away from her, if only to see him turn red with rage. When he straightened, his gaze flickered to me. I could almost see him measuring actions against their consequences. Would he pit himself against me? He’d want to know how I fit in with Gwinellyn first.

‘I think… my travelling companions have more to do with it than the gods…’ Gwinellyn said quietly, her cheeks reddening.

‘Yes. I had heard you arrived… accompanied.’ He inclined his head in my direction, his expression carefully blank. No decision on whether he’d side with or against me yet, then.

‘Please take a seat, Princess,’ King Esario said, gesturing to a chair that had been left vacant at the foot of the table. A place of honour, but Gwinellyn glanced at me nervously as the rest of the table returned to their seats. Ah. There was only one vacant space at the table. Which left the oddly-placed chair against the wall as the one for me. I gritted my teeth but held my head high as I made for it, doing my best to ignore the hostile attention of my countrymen as I flicked out my skirts and settled myself with as much dignity as I could while being seated like a servant. Gwinellyn took my lead and accepted the seat offered to her. I wished she could keep better control of her facial expressions. The look of concern she cast my way amplified the humiliation of the whole exercise.

‘I apologise for leaping on strategy talks so soon after your arrival,’ Esario began in his big, booming voice.

‘Please… don’t apologise. We’re in the middle of a war,’ Gwinellyn replied graciously. Which I could live with, since she was technically disagreeing with his sentiment.

‘We’ve been debating the best path forwards ever since we heard the rumours of your survival,’ he continued, smiling kindly at her, as though he could smooth away the fact that they had all sat at this table and done nothing but talk while they left her to make her way to Oceatold without assistance. ‘We will, of course, cement an alliance between Oceatold and the rightful heir to the throne of Brimordia, and publicly declare our support of your claim. We’ve been reviewing the terms of your marriage to my brother in order to consider the new situation, as those terms were agreed on with your father—’

‘My—my marriage?’ Gwinellyn spluttered the words, her face set with confusion.

‘Of course, Princess,’ Lord Faucher said in a tone he might use with a small child. ‘To comply with the wishes of your dear father, as much as to solidify an alliance. We’ll take on these usurpers as a united front!’ He swung his fist with some passion as he spoke the last phrase, and I wanted to roll my eyes. He may as well have beat his chest.

‘But… but I—’

‘Where is Tallius, anyway?’ The king interjected, cutting off whatever weak protest was about to spill from Gwinellyn. Aether’s teeth, was she not going to say anything? Already they were completely flattening her. ‘He should be here for this conversation. We’re determining the date of his own wedding after all.’

Gwinellyn had turned pale, as white as the flower she was nicknamed for. Her eyes were going glassy. She licked her lips, tried to speak again. ‘I hadn’t thought to… you see, what I was planning—’

‘You needn’t worry about the details, Your Highness,’ Dovegni said, oozing his smile all over his chin. ‘We’ve seen to it that the terms are fair and will engender the greatest support for our cause of seizing the Brimordian throne. A strong alliance will entice more of your supporters across the border, since then they’ll see we have a fighting chance of success. People are far more likely to support a cause with higher odds.’

‘Well, yes, I understand. I suppose that’s true…’ She held herself rigid, her hands in her lap, presumably clenched tightly against the onslaught of people who thought their opinions counted more than hers. She didn’t make the gesture as we’d agreed on, the one that would let me know she was in the danger zone for a fit, but I didn’t know if that was because she didn’t need to or because she was too panicked to remember. I’d had enough of the whole spectacle, in any case. I rose to my feet, snatched at the chair and began to drag it across the floor. The room quieted down at the sound of the legs scraping against wood, and every set of eyes was fixed on me as I pushed the chair into an awkward position next to Gwinellyn’s, jostling with the corner of the table.

I sat heavily, leaned back and crossed my legs as I surveyed the table. ‘Some of you seem to have overlooked the fact that Princess Gwinellyn is the heir to the throne and she doesn’t have to do as you tell her.’

There were a few beats of heavy silence.

‘And so speaks the wife of the Usurper,’ one of the Oceatold lords muttered.

I flushed hotly, and that reaction irritated me even more than the fact that he’d said it. How could I be so easily rattled by that one insignificant little word, wife ? ‘Before that I was King Linus’s queen.’

‘Through enchantment and womanly wiles,’ another spat, bug-eyed and seething like a kettle about to boil. I dimly remember his name was Brannovix, a lord of some minor region near the Oceatold border. The man to his right murmured to him under his breath, but he smacked his fist on the table. ‘No, I’ll not sit here quietly while she lords over the room like she isn’t a traitor to the crown and the reason we are in Oceatold in the first place. We tolerated her when she was the late king’s wife, but to tolerate her now, after what she has done, is ludicrous!’

There were a few murmurs of assent. If some of them had been planning on enduring me for Gwinellyn’s sake, they weren’t willing to jump in and defend me for it. I leaned forwards. ‘And what have I done, exactly?’

‘You married the Usurper!’ He leapt to his feet, waving a finger through the air like he was conducting an orchestra. ‘You stood by while he executed half the court, dismantled the Guild and the Sanctum and declared war on our allies! You have no business at this table! You should be standing trial for treason!’

There were a few cries of ‘here, here’ as the others grew bolder. King Esario was sitting back, seeming content to watch the chaos, and Dovegni was watching me, still not declaring his hand. A whip of fear snapped through me as I looked around at the angry faces, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was here in Oceatold. Enemies on every side, no charming facade to hide behind, just an unwelcome visitor in a foreign country. Magic crackled in my blood, fizzing and popping, begging to rise to my fingers as more voices began to shout my crimes and my panic rose. I wasn’t powerless . I wouldn’t be taken prisoner. I felt like baring my teeth, raising my hackles, and doing whatever it would take to get them to back off and stop thinking of me as a carcass to brawl over, just rotting flesh to feed their hunger for vengeance.

‘Enough.’ The word rang out in a voice as loud and clear as a bell, cutting over the melee with enough authority that the lords of the table simmered down. Gwinellyn had risen to her feet, her face set with determination; chin high, eyes staring steadily ahead, betrayed only by the flush of colour in her cheeks. ‘Rhiandra will not be held responsible for this war.’

‘With all due respect, Your Highness, I fail to see how you can say such a thing. She was by the side of the Blood King throughout everything he’s done. She effectively opened the door for him and he stepped right through it,’ Lord Brannovix argued, though at least he was settling back into his seat now.

‘She did,’ she agreed. ‘But she was acting under enchantment.’

Another wave of muttering swept around the table. We should have rehearsed this. There was no way they’d buy such a convenient excuse from their adolescent heir to the throne, not when they already believed her to be a mere playing piece to be pushed around a board. If they believed they could easily manoeuvre her, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to believe I already had.

‘Enchantment,’ repeated Lord Faucher with an incredulous twitch of a brow.

‘I believe you’ve felt the effect yourself, Lord Faucher,’ I retorted, ‘or did you mean to stand idly by while Lord Boccius was eaten alive?’

Silence fell, then, the muttering stifled as I conjured that moment for them all, when the court had stood fixated as Draven acted as judge, jury and executioner over one of the most powerful high lords on the council, declaring him a traitor and feeding him to a creature in the menagerie. I suppressed a shudder and buried the memory of his screams.

‘But at the moment when I needed her most, she defended me,’ Gwinellyn continued, her voice gaining volume and confidence. ‘When she fled the palace, she did so because she had rescued me from the Usurper’s captivity. I was also badly injured and would have died if she hadn’t got me to safety. She nursed me back to health, then agreed to follow me through a war-torn land and protect me on my journey to Oceatold in support of my campaign to retake the throne.’ She levelled a look at Lord Brannovix, one I didn’t know she was capable of. One that clearly said unlike you . ‘She will not be put on trial for being my firmest friend in my time of exile.’

The lords at the table… remained silent. They were shifting in their seats, certainly, and shooting one another significant looks. Perhaps they didn’t entirely accept her story. But they weren’t arguing with her. I switched my attention to Gwinellyn herself, marvelling at her proud posture, the determined set of her brow. She was an entirely different Gwinellyn to the one who they had been bullying only moments ago. How had she summoned such a significant change? It was like when I’d seen her address the angry crowd at her father’s funeral. She spoke, and they listened. Something had flicked a switch in her, and I needed to know what it was so she could do it again.

‘It sounds like there‘s a great deal more to Mrs Soveraux’s story than we’ve heard,’ King Esario said, still surveying the scene carefully. I gritted my teeth against his use of that name again, and for a moment felt certain that was exactly why he used it. Just a little reminder to set the suspicion aflame again. ‘But the fact remains that she is the wife of the creature who stole your throne. It won’t only be the people in this room who find it difficult to trust her.’ He tapped a finger against the tabletop, switching his gaze to consider me.

‘That can hardly be helped,’ I muttered.

‘What do you think of this Lidello? Soveraux is your creature, is he not? Is he capable of it?’ Esario continued, turning to a man I hadn’t noticed before. He leaned forward, revealing a face dominated by a long, straight nose set against waxy skin, and small, piercing eyes almost black in colour that were fixed intently on me. As I regarded him, he offered me an unpleasant smile that sent a chill down the back of my neck.

‘Oh yes ,’ he said, his voice soft, like the rustle of parchment. ‘He is more than capable of it.’

And with a dawning sense of unease, I wondered what Draven being his creature meant.

‘I think we’ll postpone the remainder of this meeting,’ Esario continued, moving his attention back to Gwinellyn. ‘Your Lords and council have seen that you’re well and I’m sure there’s much they’ll be hoping to brief you on before we finalise the terms of our alliance.’ He stood, gesturing at Gwinellyn. ‘Let me show you the sky walk, princess. There’s a fine view over the city and the sea.’

‘Oh… yes… of course,’ Gwinellyn said, shooting a nervous glance at me, that compelling confidence disappearing as suddenly as it came. I didn’t like that the king wanted to speak to her alone, but I didn’t see how I could object to it either. She followed him to where a pair of attending footmen were parting a set of dark, heavy curtains, revealing a door and swinging it open. Brisk, salty air swept through the room for a moment, until the royal duo stepped through and it was closed behind them.

I quickly rose to my feet, conscious of the regard of the other occupants of the room as they spoke among themselves and readied themselves to depart. I wasn’t in the mood to linger alone, and the idea of trying to win favour with them made acid rise in my throat. I wanted to get away from them all, to find a quiet space where I could summon the sparks at my fingertips and remind myself that I wasn’t playing the same game anymore. I didn’t need their favour anymore.

I departed the room before any of the others, keeping my gaze squarely ahead and avoiding acknowledging Dovegni. But I wondered about Esario and Gwinellyn’s walk to admire the view. What would he want to say to her that he didn’t want anyone else to hear?