Throne Shaker (The Clash and the Heat Book 3)

by Val Saintcrowe

  “I don’t think so,” said Marguerite. “You should rest.”

  I slumped. “I guess I have time. We may have a month.”

  “About that,” said Bisset. “I think you’re fooling yourself.”

  I turned to him sharply. “What?”

  “Are we talking about the same man?” said Bisset. “Do you even know the king?”

  Marguerite put her hand on his arm. “Djonn, please. Don’t upset her more while she’s still weak.”

  “I know the king very well,” I said. “And you may not realize this, but he always wanted the throne and he always intended to kill King Cedric. The way it happened wouldn’t have been how he chose. He was waiting for the right moment. He would have planned it out much more meticulously, but his hand was forced and he had to duel him. If he’d had it his way, though, he would have taken his time and done it right.”

  Bisset glanced at Marguerite and then at me. He gave me a little shrug and didn’t say anything else.

  I sat up straight. “What?”

  “Marguerite’s right,” said Bisset. “No reason to upset you right now. You should rest.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Bisset sucked in a breath. “I can’t speak to the king’s relationship with his brother, or what he planned. But I can speak to the way he is with you. You weren’t on the ferry with us after you had been taken away by Dubois.”

  “The ferry outside Rzymn?” I said. “Well, that was a very long time ago, and things between the king and me were different then.” It had been the morning after we’d made love for the first time. Technically the second, but the first time had been a travesty, so the first real time, and we had been so… I don’t know, it had felt like love. But then Guillame had shown up, and everything had been changed from that moment on.

  Sometimes, though, I wondered what would have happened with Remy and me if Guillame hadn’t arrived. If Remy hadn’t grown to be so suspicious of me, would he have practically kept me prisoner? If I hadn’t been plotting to kill Remy, would I have opened myself to the feelings I had for him?

  None of it mattered, though.

  Guillame had arrived. And it was Guillame that I loved. It had always been Guillame. Why did I find myself repeating that to myself so much lately?

  I shook my head.

  “The king wasted no time going after you,” said Bisset. “He was in a rage that anyone would dare to try to take you from him. He is not waiting around, putting things in order, Queen Fleur. I don’t know why you’re fooling yourself with this idea. Even before, didn’t you think he would pursue us immediately? Weren’t we looking over our shoulders during the entire voyage here?”

  I licked my lips. Well, he was right about that. I had thought Remy would come after us when we escaped Dumonte. But when he hadn’t, I assumed he was done with me. I had attempted to kill him, after all.

  I’d wanted his power. I thought that if I could control the living flame the way he did, that I would be unstoppable. That no one would be able to hurt me ever again.

  But it was strange now, because I remembered the ferocity with which I’d wanted his magic. I remembered how I’d practically been salivating for it. But now… I couldn’t quite understand it, but it seemed ridiculous, almost an adolescent desire, something far beneath me.

  Barely a month had passed since then, but I felt as if I’d grown and changed into someone different.

  Before my power had seemed pointless, only useful in conjunction with Remy. I could put out his fires or intensify his fires, but I could do nothing on my own, and I was pouting about that.

  Then I’d come to Islaigne and I realized my power could save lives. I could put out the explosions here. And my people… I had subjects, a nation that depended on me. I was a queen, and my own desires paled in comparison to my responsibility to the people of Islaigne.

  It had happened quickly, but I’d simply grown up.

  I didn’t need to be more powerful than Remy anymore. Wanting that seemed petty now. I was ashamed of myself that I’d actually tried to kill him for it.

  Actually, it was disgusting. I didn’t think that I deserved to be the queen of Islaigne, but I was the one with the power to stop the fires, so for better or worse, I was what my country had, and I needed to rise to the occasion.

  “My queen,” said Marguerite quietly, “you mustn’t worry too much—”

  “You might be right, Bisset,” I said. “So, how long do you think we have? His ship would return to him, and then he would set off immediately? How long would that take? Two weeks?”

  “Yes, about that,” said Bisset.

  “Half the time,” I said, feeling ill. “All right, well, we must go and try again. There is no time to waste.”

  “You can’t try again, not yet,” said Marguerite. “You need to rest.”

  “She’s right,” said Bisset. “You’re no good to us if you run yourself ragged. I’ll look into other ways we can barricade the path. We could fell trees or move boulders or even just pick them off with arrows from the ramparts.”

  I got out of bed. “No, I need to go back. Now.”

  * * *

  It was no good.

  Another trip to the flame resulted in the same result. I couldn’t hold the power down. I passed out again and woke up in bed, having slept through the night and through half of the next day.

  I felt wretched, my body wrung out and sore. Even still, I got up and went to the door.

  Bisset was out there.

  “Bisset, you’re no longer my private guard. You’re a general. You shouldn’t be on my door,” I said.

  He turned to me. “Yes, I realize, but I wanted to speak to you as soon as you woke. There has been news. One of the men on the ship with Dubois came back, rowed all the way with a rowboat. We underestimated him, my queen.”

  “Who?”

  “King Remy,” said Bisset. “He send that contingent of musqueteers ahead, but he didn’t wait for them to come back with an answer. I imagine he anticipated you wouldn’t surrender to him. He’s two days away by now. There are ten ships.”

  My lips parted. I put out a hand and rested it against the door frame. “Two days?”

  “Yes,” said Bisset.

  “Why didn’t Guillame just come back, then? We’ll never get the guns in time.”

  “We can send for him if you wish,” said Bisset.

  “No, no, we’ll need the guns eventually, if we can hold on until Guillame gets back with them. But without the guns, we need the living flame more than ever. What am I going to do?”

  “I have men dragging whole trees onto the path,” said Bisset. “It’s not impossible to navigate, but he won’t be able to take horses over or cannons.”

  “Cannons,” I murmured. “Why did we never speak of cannons? What good are musquets against cannons?”

  Bisset took me by the shoulders. “Come now, I know you better than this. You are not this sort of woman. You do not fall apart.”

  “I’m not falling apart,” I snapped at him.

  “Good,” he said, giving me a grim smile and letting his hands drop.

  I didn’t even tell him that he shouldn’t have touched me in such a way. Bisset was a stickler for honor and propriety in a way that I had never been. If he was doing improper things, then things were truly dire. I drew in a breath. “I must go back to the flame.”

  “Forgive me, my queen, but if you do that, you’ll be dead to the world until just before he arrives, and we need you for strategy.”

  “There is no strategy,” I said. “Without the living flame, I don’t know what to do.” I swallowed hard. “Do you have any advice for me, as my general?”

  “I am doing what I can with the trees,” he said. “But if you want my advice, I would say we need to evacuate the village. There are innocent people—children—in harm’s way. If King Remy makes it up the path, he will come directly into the village.”

  “And he’ll l
ikely burn it all,” I said. “Yes, I think you’re right.” I pushed past him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get someone to start the evacuations,” I called over my shoulder. “You need to be looking at the ramparts, determining how many archers we can have on them.”

  “Yes, my queen,” he said.

  * * *

  Solene told me of a fortress, further inland, walled in and defensible. It had been built by my grandmother, who had apparently been frightened of an attack from the men across the sea. She had copied their architecture in order to be safe.

  We packed up the people of the village and sent them off toward the fortress. It would take them weeks on foot to arrive there.

  While I was rushing about and making sure there were provisions to be sent along—grain and dried meat and other such necessities—I began to bleed. I was annoyed, because this was the last thing that I needed to be bothering with right now. I wasn’t even sure it was time for it. It seemed early, but then my last bleeding had been late and a bit strange. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t miscarried a pregnancy due to a fall on the ship.

  Seeing the blood, it brought all that back, and I thought about it all again.

  The month leading up to my escape from Dumonte, Remy had been overly demonstrative. He’d been in my bed twice a day, mostly because he’d been trying to keep me busy and away from Guillame. It had been so often that I had thought it would have been impossible if I hadn’t conceived, and then the bleeding had come, but…

  Well, I would never know.

  And I wasn’t sure why it made me sad. I tried to imagine being with child right now, and it was a nightmare. And fighting Remy while carrying his child, that was horrid. Of course, there would have been a slight chance that it could have been Guillame’s.

  Anyway, whatever had happened, there was no baby, and now I just needed to prepare for this battle while dealing with cramps.

  That night, I stood out on a balcony and looked into the dark water, looking for a hint of Remy’s ships. There was nothing I could see. But they would be here sometime tomorrow, I was told, probably late.

  After his long journey, would he attack straightaway?

  I had to think he would. He was probably eager for it.

  There was a slight movement of the curtains surrounding the door to the balcony. I might have thought it was the wind, but somehow, something leapt at the back of my skull, a warning, setting my body alight with fear—as though I was a rabbit sensible to a wolf nearby.

  “Ophelie?” I whispered. “Is that you?”

  She stepped out from behind the curtains. “Fleur. You knew I was here. You can sense me?”

  I swallowed. The hair on my neck was standing on end. I was terrified of Ophelie, and it was precisely the sort of thing I’d tried to prevent from happening with her.

  Ophelie had once been my maid, and then she had been my personal assassin and bodyguard. She had worshiped me because she thought us the same—both vicious killers who enjoyed violence and had no conscience. But eventually Ophelie had realized that I wasn’t like her. That I did have emotions and I did feel guilt. She was disgusted by weakness now. She thought herself superior, because she did not have any of my weaknesses.

  Maybe in some ways she was.

  Ophelie killed for sport. She enjoyed killing, especially killing women that she found beautiful. For some reason, she was still leaving me alive, but I couldn’t be sure how long that would last.

  “Even now, we are still connected.” She closed the distance between us, looking me over with an eager expression on her face. “Have you missed me?”

  “I have,” I said, forcing my voice not to quaver. “I think of you often.”

  She reached out and traced her forefinger over my cheekbone and jaw. “I watch you sometimes.”

  “Do you know that Remy is coming?” I had just had an idea. When last Ophelie had come to me, she had shown me that she had been changed by the living flame. She now had the power to start fire, just as Remy did.

  “Of course. Wasn’t I always good at knowing what was going on around us, in hearing gossip? I have not lost my skills now.”

  “Then you know of the plan I had,” I said, “to light the path to the castle with living flame. But I’ve failed. I’m not strong enough. If only there was someone who could light that path.”

  She let out a soft chuckle. “Just come out and ask me.”

  “I didn’t think you did me favors anymore,” I said. “Would asking you do any good?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Ask and see.”

  “Will you light the path with your power?”

  She regarded me, smiling.

  “Your power is like Remy’s, so it doesn’t burn forever,” I said. “It would go out. You’d need to do it just as they were disembarking from the ship.”

  “And what would you do for me, if I did this thing?”

  “What would you want me to do?” I said.

  She studied her fingernails. “Hmm. Interesting question.”

  “You don’t have anything in mind?”

  “I want to be allowed to hunt in your city, to find my girls.”

  “You mean, you want me to let you kill.”

  “I can light them up now,” she said. “They burn so beautifully. You’ve never seen anything like it, Fleur.” She shuddered in pleasure.

  “No,” I said. “Not my people. Not indiscriminately. I can’t make that deal.” I shook my head.

  She sighed. “Oh, you disappoint me. It seems that you’ve become even more sentimental since you got home. I hardly recognize you anymore. I think of that woman who burned Camte Chastain, her eyes alight with fire, glorying in her power, and I hardly know where she is.”

  I fought down a grimace. Ophelie might call it glory, but she didn’t know how often Chastain’s screams had haunted my nightmares, how the thought of what I’d done made me feel ill, not pleased. “Chastain’s death served a purpose. You wish to be permitted to kill for pleasure. I cannot allow that.” I reached out and took her hand. “Ophelie, please. It would cost you nothing to light the flame. I don’t ask anything else from you. I don’t ask you to fight for me. Can’t you please… in memory of all we have been through together, do this one thing?”

  She looked down at our joined hands.

  And then I realized what I should be doing. It was just like Remy. I could pull out Remy’s power when he and I touched. I reached into Ophelie, tugging on her magic and yanking it into my own body.

  Ophelie’s eyes widened. She gritted her teeth and tugged her hand out of mine.

  But I had it. The power. I sucked in breath through my nose.

  She had a knife out, too quickly for me to even see her unsheathing it. She pointed it at me, her eyes flashing. “Never do that again, Fleur,” she growled.

  I raised my chin. “If you wanted me dead, you’d have done it already.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Maybe in my fantasies, I do you slowly. I watch you bleed out over hours.”

  I couldn’t help but flinch. I didn’t like the tone of her voice, the way she was talking about killing me and the way she sounded almost aroused. It disturbed me.

  “Maybe I have fantasies about killing you a lot of different ways,” she said.

  “But if you actually do it,” I said in a terse voice, “you’ll only get to do it one way, and then it’ll be over forever.”

  She laughed. “You do understand me better than anyone else in the world.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a world without you in it.” She sheathed her knife, cocking her head and sizing me up. “What is it about you? Both of those men falling over themselves for you, me fascinated with you, even Bisset utterly devoted. Do you hold us all with a magic spell?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

  “I don’t have to kill you to make you sorry,” she said. “I could cut something off. A finger, a foo
t, a… breast.”

  I drew back, unable to hide my shudder.

  She laughed again. “I know where you sleep, Fleur. I can get to you anytime I want. Just think about that.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  At the first sight of Remy’s ships, I lit the path. Since I’d had the power within me, it was stronger than it would have been within Ophelie. I had the ability to magnify it. I poured it all out, and the way to the castle was nothing but hot, red flame.

  Archers were ready on the ramparts. Remy’s men wouldn’t be able to make it through the flame. If any did manage it, they’d get an arrow for their trouble.

  The flames wouldn’t burn forever, however. I suspected he’d wait it out and attack when they burned out, which might be later that night or might be tomorrow morning. When he did start coming, I needed to get close enough to take his magic entirely, something I’d never done without touching him.

  However, I had put out the blaze on the Flainge Pass without touching it. I had sent my power through the air and the water, and doused it out that way.

  I had never been able to douse Remy’s magic without touching him, but I wondered if I could now. I was more powerful now. Maybe I could send my magic out through the ground and take it from him. It would keep him from having magic for a day, maybe two. Maybe even more.

  Having doused the flames here in Islaigne had exhausted me but stretched me, leaving me stronger than I had been before. I wasn’t sure why that had happened, but it had. I wished that it would have happened with trying to contain the living flame within my body, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

  Maybe if I’d had more time to prepare for Remy, then I would have known if I could have done it. But until then, I would have to make do with what I could.

  I climbed to the top of the highest tower in Castle Ignis and I stood out on a balcony that ringed the tower. As I looked out over the dark water, I had a sinking sensation that I wasn’t the least bit ready for Remy’s attack.

  I gripped the railing on the balcony, feeling dizzy to be at this height. There was only a sliver of a moon tonight, a new moon overhead, but the white stone of the castle glinted in the scant light just the same. The ships were coming, torches burning on their bows, and I could see their approach.