Page 22 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)
Chapter Eighteen
The pounding in my head creates a steady and rhythmic reminder of why we should listen to our elders. That fourth glass of wine was definitely a mistake.
At least the sun isn’t glaring in my eyes.
The broody sky teems with dark clouds and shadows, but nothing dims the spark of relief inside me. At last, I’ve wrangled the royal paperwork into submission, thanks to Rhiann’s cleverness in finding aides who don’t fill me with the urge to claw out my eyeballs.
“Feels good to be out here again, doesn’t it?” I stretch my arms overhead as I walk beside Sterling on the way to training, working out the stiffness of too many hours bent over parchments and ledgers.
The ground crunches beneath our boots. The training fields call to me, and my muscles thrum with anticipation.
“Indeed.” Sterling’s eyes sweep the path ahead. Always the vigilant soldier.
He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice me sneaking my hand behind him. At least not until I pinch his firm ass.
With lightning speed, he catches my wrist, swaying his hips away as gracefully as a dancer and pulling my hand up to press a kiss to my palm. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, my queen.”
A bolt of white-hot desire shoots through me as I pat him on the cheek. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“In front of your siblings?” He raises an eyebrow. “Or would you like me to ask them to leave?”
“Okay.” I clamp my hand over his mouth, my cheeks heating. “We’ll finish this later.”
Sterling winks as I drop my hand. “Going to hold you to that.”
Bastian catches up to us, Leesa at his side.
Agnar falls in step behind them, his broad shoulders casting a protective shadow. His eyes glint with humor when he offers a mock salute. “Morning, my queen .”
“Cut it out, Agnar. We’re not in court. Just call me Lark.”
“I know.” He gestures to Sterling. “I was talking to him.”
I’m about to roll my eyes when the training fields come into view and a chorus of voices rises from the gathered soldiers.
My heart swells as they chant, “Long live Queen Lark!”
“Fewer voices than before,” Sterling murmurs, a low rumble that only I’m meant to hear.
We both know what it means. We’ve lost far too many soldiers over the last few months. That means we have less magic at our disposal, and less magic means it’s going to be harder to keep our lands safe.
I turn to Agnar. “Remember Tír Ríoga?”
His battle-scarred face sobers as he nods. “Corrupted armies on the move. Ambushes instead of open attacks. Sneaky bastards.”
“So we have to be sneakier.” Scanning the soldiers calling my name, I acknowledge the weight of my responsibility as their queen, as their protector.
The damp earth from the overcast day sinks beneath our boots as we near the training fields. The soldiers’ chants are a balm against the chill in the air.
“Fewer in number, but their spirits are unbroken.” I gaze out at them with a mix of pride and sorrow.
Sterling nods while examining the ranks. “I’ve worked and trained with them. They’ll follow you to the ends of Tirene, Lark. And beyond.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a solitary figure lurking just at the edge of the commotion. Celeste, her thick blond hair tied back, stands a few paces away, as if unsure whether she’s welcome. She inches toward us, hesitantly attempting to bridge the gap.
My jaw tightens on instinct.
According to a few of the council members, she offers sound ideas, but something about her just sets my nerves on edge. Even more so than Elijah. And he tried to kill me on more than one occasion.
Sterling’s hand rests at the small of my back, a silent and steadying presence.
He leans in close, his breath a whisper against my ear. “I don’t trust her, either, Lark. Not fully. I know you said she saved me, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why. Or why she wasn’t corrupted.”
“She wasn’t a pet favorite of Xenon’s when you were an instructor at Flighthaven?” I keep my eyes on the troops training in front of us, but out of my periphery, I notice Celeste chatting with Duke Bron and Vicar Moise.
Leesa, Bastian, and Agnar line up beside us.
Sterling watches Celeste for a few moments before shrugging. “Not that I noticed.”
I feel a little better when he says that. “Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and possible spies always within sight.”
He presses his lips to my temple in a fleeting kiss. “Exactly.”
“I forgot to tell you. She was in my vision the night of the coronation, right before she arrived.” I glance over my shoulder where Celeste’s blond head hovers like a question mark on the fringes of our group.
“Or someone who looked like her. A blond woman on the battlefield. It could’ve been a child.
Either way, there was definitely a resemblance. ”
“Could’ve been her. Then again, visions aren’t always clear.” Sterling’s calm contrasts the storm of thoughts in my head.
Before I can respond, Lord Serle Hamilton appears, all simpering smiles and fawning gestures. He ushers us all up to the elevated rostra, which is normally used by the generals overseeing formations.
We climb the steps reluctantly, both preferring to view from the sidelines so we can hear and interact as needed. But snubbing the council in public wouldn’t do.
“Your Highness,” Serle beckons me closer, his black wings catching the light as he moves, “what are your thoughts on the new defense strategies?”
“Solid.” I keep it short. Sterling and I worked with Agnar to ensure our borders were secured. The new defense strategy was our plan. Had he paid so little attention that he didn’t realize that?
As if answering my unspoken question, Serle shifts his attention to Celeste. “What’s your take on this, Lady Celeste?”
“Strategies are only as good as the minds behind them.” She flashes him a bright smile, revealing even white teeth. “What do you think of their chances?”
Moise’s eyes are wide, like he’s been clinging to her every word. “Why is King Xenon sending his army north?”
“Perhaps a better question is, why did he send them there first?”
Rafe’s voice cuts through the air, sharp like a blade against the soft drone of council chatter.
“That would mean all the outer lands. Not just the Northern Kingdoms. But if he starts in the North, then he has two fights on two fronts. Though this also suggests that, once he takes the North, the lands in between will be caught in pincer attacks from the North and the South with no place to run.”
Celeste beams. “Yes, yes! You’re so wise to see that.”
I exchange a glance with Sterling before studying Rafe, whose face remains unreadable.
The council dives into a discussion, theories flying as fast as the arrows on the field below. They’re convinced Xenon aims to encircle the Northern Kingdoms, trapping the rest of us in his net once they fall.
“And then he can take us all out, one city at a time. Like fish in a barrel.” Which is exactly what I warned them about before.
Sterling gives my hand a subtle squeeze, letting me know he agrees.
The soldiers training below us become a distant blur as I mull over the possibility of exposing Celeste’s antics right here, in front of everyone.
But I instead heed the silent warning in Sterling’s eyes.
I’ve scaled the mountain of paperwork and found the plateau of delegation.
I’m not ready to tumble back down by stirring up the council this very moment.
Vicar Moise inclines his head, a lock of wavy brown hair spilling over his cheek. “But Xenon’s targeting the North first, yes? So he’ll be gone for longer periods of time? To oversee this expedition.”
“Of course!” Celeste widens her eyes, simpering just as much as Serle. “You’re right. He will be gone. Nowhere near Aclaris or Tirene.”
The heat rises in me, like flames licking at dry kindling. Sterling remains the epitome of composure, his posture relaxed but attentive. He’s a glacier amid my volcanic frustration, reminding me that patience is a weapon.
A weapon I need to sharpen.
“We should get back to the Council Tower and take that into consideration. See what plans need to be changed to cover that.” Rafe motions to a squire passing by. “Make sure the latest reports are ready and the map is laid out before we get there.”
I let out a breath, my shoulders a little lighter.
They shuffle off, mumbling among themselves.
But not before Moise addresses me. “Your Highness, don’t forget. Tomorrow morning, first light. You must hear the common folk’s grievances. Four hours, at least.”
Fuck. What did I do to deserve this special form of hells?
I groan, not bothering to mask my dismay. “Great, just what I need.” My voice drips with sarcasm, a luxury I afford myself now that the council is retreating. “If I’m going to spend all day tomorrow sitting on my butt, I’m going to make sure I get plenty of exercise today.”
A ghost of a smile plays on Sterling’s lips, an infuriating yet irresistible tease that suggests he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Remember, the soldiers won’t be going easy on you just because you’re royalty.”
“Then they better brace themselves,” I retort, a grin fighting its way onto my face. “Because I’m not holding back either.”
With the dread of tomorrow’s royal duties already sapping my happiness, I welcome the promise of physical exertion and the sweet release of pent-up frustration.
Sterling mirrors my smile. “Let’s go then, Your Highness.”
We stride side by side toward the training fields, the overcast skies doing nothing to dim the renewed fire in my steps. The familiar scent of earth and sweat greets us, the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of effort permeating the air.
This is where I belong. Among warriors and the ring of combat. Where words are straightforward and trust is measured in shared battles, not honeyed lies.