Throne Shaker (The Clash and the Heat Book 3)

by Val Saintcrowe

  He raised his eyebrows. “But we were going to wait until you felt better.”

  “I’m sure that if you’re gone for four or five weeks, I’ll be better when you get back.” I had a vague notion that the sickness part of pregnancy was only in the beginning.

  “What?” He folded his arms over his chest.

  “I can’t have you hovering over me,” I said. “It makes me feel weak and pathetic, and I am neither of those things.”

  “Fleur, you’ve been ill for weeks, and we don’t know why. If you think I’m leaving you right now—”

  “You will leave, because I am your queen, and I am giving you an order.”

  “Oh, if you think you can pull that on me, you’re wrong. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “If Jalal is doing this to me, we need to know,” I said. “I don’t trust anyone else to go and find the information. I need it to be you. Please. Go.”

  “No,” he said.

  “I’m not arguing with you about it anymore,” I said. “You’re leaving, and that’s that.” And then I went back into the other room and threw up into the chamber pot.

  * * *

  I couldn’t even believe it. How could this have happened? I had sex every day, twice a day, sometimes three times a day for a month with Remy and I wasn’t pregnant, and then this month, once, and I was vomiting and sleeping all day?

  How?

  Of course, I wondered if I’d lost a pregnancy on that ship. That had happened because I fell, so I daydreamed about throwing myself down some steps. Or, blazes, that tea was a known entity. Couldn’t I find some of that?

  But I knew myself too well. I seemed to be incapable of snuffing out life in my womb, as inconvenient as it might be.

  Guillame eventually left for Castle Ignis after I barred him from my rooms and ignored him for three days straight, only answering all his messages to me with orders to leave.

  I didn’t want to face him.

  How was I supposed to tell him this?

  I might be able to lie to him and tell him the baby was his, and he might not figure it out, even if the timing wouldn’t quite be right. We hadn’t made love since he got back, owing to my feeling disgusting all the time. If I wanted him to think it was his, I should probably have had sex with him, not sent him off on a mission that was going to take him longer than a month to complete.

  Even still, we had made love before he left, and maybe that was close enough to pass it off.

  Except that seemed despicable, and I wasn’t going to do that to him.

  I’d tell him.

  I would.

  For now, however, he was gone, and I decided to stop thinking about him and stop thinking about anything to do with the pregnancy. Now that I knew what was wrong with me, I was able to find out information, as discreetly as possible, about remedies for my sickness. The people I spoke to were sworn to secrecy on pain of death, and I thought they truly were frightened of me. I could be rather terrifying if I tried. And I was the queen.

  Anyway, a bit of mint was useful to keep the sickness at bay, and I also learned that I needed to eat more food when I felt ill, even though I didn’t want to. I was actually so hungry that I was ill, as odd as that sounded. Once I started eating meat again, I started to feel a good bit better.

  Thus ignoring my symptoms, I pretended as if nothing was going on.

  I didn’t want to think about what this meant.

  I didn’t want to think about what a wretched mother I was going to make.

  I didn’t want to think about the fact that I wasn’t nearly ready to have a child.

  I definitely did not want to think about Remy or what he would think of this news.

  Instead, I focused my efforts on rebuilding and on putting out existing explosions. I was more exhausted than ever, but my magic seemed strong enough. It seemed to be growing each time that I stretched myself. I was pleased with this development, but I did have to pace myself, because the child growing in me demanded that I give most of my strength to it, and not to my magic.

  It was dreadfully difficult not to think about being pregnant when it seemed to be affecting everything.

  One evening, Bisset asked me for an audience, and I granted it. I assumed he was going to be getting back to me about his advice on rebuilding the castle in such a way that it would be better defensible from attacks from the sea.

  But instead, the first thing he said to me was, “When was the last time you saw Ophelie?”

  “Oh, it’s been since before Remy’s attack,” I said. “Quite some time. Why do you ask?” I had let him know that Ophelie had been mutated by the flames, and that she was no longer interested in serving me anymore. He and Ophelie had served together, my two right hands, and they had become close in that time, well, as close as anyone could become to Ophelie.

  “I’ve been hearing of girls’ bodies being found,” he said.

  “Girls? Little girls?”

  “Young women,” said Bisset. “Some barely out of adolescence, I suppose. Too young. They’ve been burned.”

  “Oh, blazes,” I said. “You think it’s her.”

  “It has to be,” said Bisset. “We both know that she was responsible for murders in Rzymn and also back in Dumonte.”

  “I put a stop to it once, but I have no influence over her anymore.”

  “I was hoping you’d have some idea of how to find her,” he said. “That was why I asked for an audience. I thought we could go together. I would need your power to take her magic in order to capture her. She must be made to stop.”

  “No, I did not even know she followed us here,” I said. “But of course she must have. She is still attached to me in some horrid way.”

  “Then you may be in danger,” said Bisset.

  I hesitated. I was frightened of Ophelie, it was true, but suddenly, the babe growing in me made me twice as frightened. Without meaning to, my hand strayed to my belly. “Is there anything you know about that would help us to discover her?”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t any idea. It’s why I came to you.”

  I sighed. “Well, if you think of anything, come to me. How is Marguerite?”

  “She is well,” he said.

  “Busy?” I said.

  “I suppose,” he said. “Everyone is occupied here. There is always something to be doing.”

  “Yes,” I said thoughtfully.

  “If you wish her company, you could send for her at any time.”

  I smiled at him. “I might do that. It might be nice to have someone to talk to, someone who I knew.”

  “You cannot speak to me?” said Bisset. “I promise I will keep your secrets, my queen.”

  “Another woman,” I said. “Maybe…” I shook my head. “But never mind it.”

  Bisset laughed a little.

  “What?” I said, drawing myself up.

  “Nothing, it’s only that I don’t think of you as preoccupied with particularly feminine things.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Of course, it’s all different here in Islaigne what with the queens and…” He cleared his throat. “You must pardon me. I didn’t mean any offense.”

  I shook my head at him. “Oh, I’m not offended. Listen, if you hear about any other girls being burned, you will come to me?”

  “I will,” he said. “And I’ll send Marguerite to you as well, so that you two can discuss ribbons and braids and all manner of those sorts of things.”

  I glowered at him. “Bisset, truly.”

  He chuckled. “Apologies again.”

  “I suppose I would like it if you sent her to me,” I said. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  But I didn’t see Marguerite for some time. What with one thing and another, various issues kept coming up and preventing our meeting. I didn’t hear of any more dead girls from Bisset.

  And then Guillame was back, and I wasn’t ready to see him yet.

  I wouldn’t let him come to my room the night he ar
rived, telling him to rest, complaining of still feeling sick. I didn’t even greet him face to face.

  The next day, I couldn’t avoid him, but I met him in my makeshift throne room, which didn’t really have a throne in it. It had a chair I sat in, and it was big enough for ten other people if I needed to gather that many people.

  When Guillame joined me that day, though, I emptied the place.

  I set up a chair for him, facing me, and I gestured to it when he came in.

  He stayed standing.

  I eyed him, twisting my hands together in my lap. I needed to tell him. I couldn’t put this off any longer. I only wished that I had spent more time thinking about it, instead of avoiding the subject, because I had no idea how to break the news to him.

  “Fleur, I, um… I had a lot of time to think while I was traveling all the way to the coast and back. It was me and my thoughts, and I started, uh, just getting these wild thoughts in my head. Probably crazy thoughts, but… I need to ask you something. Don’t be angry with me for asking.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Are you…” He trailed off. He swallowed. “No, you know what? Let’s, um…” He shook himself. “You called me here for a briefing on Jalal and that secret room in the castle. Let’s focus on that.”

  “All right,” I said. “Did you find something out?”

  “I did,” he said. “Nothing about you or your mother, though. That secret room of his was mostly intact. A little bit of it had been burned, but not much. Actually, it was still locked, and I had to crawl in through the part that had been damaged. Interesting, isn’t it, how the flames in the castle went out?”

  “Well, Remy’s flames have always gone out,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Anyway, what did you find?”

  “Right. Uh… Jalal has some interesting proclivities. The whole place was full of costumes. They were on display behind glass. They seem to be made mostly for Lirandet to wear.”

  “Costumes?”

  “Sexy costumes,” said Guillame.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Little… girl costumes.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Eew.”

  “Well, better to have a grown-up person dressing like a little girl than actually be doing things to a little girl,” said Guillame.

  “True,” I said.

  “But when I got back last night, I did some asking, and Lirandet is, uh, a good bit younger than he is. She was probably… fifteen when he took her as his consort.”

  “And how old was he?”

  “Twenty,” said Guillame.

  I wrinkled my nose again. “I should speak to Lirandet. Make sure she’s happy, that she hasn’t been… coerced in any way.”

  “I was thinking it would be better coming from you,” said Guillame. “I’m not sure how I would bring it up to her.”

  “So, Jalal is disgusting,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”

  “No,” said Guillame. “But you do think he murdered your mother, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” I tried to stay clear of Jalal. I couldn’t look at him without feeling confused about everything, and without wondering what he’d done. I wanted to grab him, beat the truth out of him, but I didn’t think that was the smartest way to approach this, so I bided my time. “We need to find out, but I don’t know how.”

  “Maybe Lirandet knows something,” said Guillame. “If you’re going to talk to her anyway, you could feel her out on the subject.”

  “But she’ll just tell Jalal what I say,” I said. “Then he’ll know everything.”

  “Possibly,” said Guillame. He shifted in his chair. “When, um, when Remy was defeated, you brought him back here to sign treaties?”

  “Yes,” I said, jarred by the subject change.

  “Were there other people with you in the room while you were drawing up the terms?”

  “There were witnesses, yes,” I said. “What are you asking me?”

  He shut his eyes. “All right, just… you, um, you’re sick for weeks and you don’t get better, and you won’t touch me, and I started thinking…” He opened his eyes. He cocked his head at me, letting out a strangled laugh. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  I flinched.

  “Blazes,” he breathed.

  I got up out of my chair and went to him. “Guillame, I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  He got up out of the chair, holding up both of his hands to ward me off. “Stop.”

  “Guillame—”

  “So, you… you fucked him?”

  My mouth was dry. I reached for Guillame.

  Guillame backed up. “You did.”

  I nodded.

  “And it’s his?”

  I nodded again.

  “There’s no chance that it’s… that it’s mine?”

  I shook my head. “No, I bled after you left.”

  He shut his eyes. His shoulders slumped.

  I closed the distance between us, reaching down to take one of his hands in mine. “Please, I know you—”

  “Stop.” He wrenched his hand out of mine.

  I cringed.

  We both only breathed. He wasn’t looking at me, but I was staring at him, trying to think of something to say, something that would make it better.

  “Blazes,” he said again, and his voice broke.

  “I really haven’t wanted to think about it. It’s basically the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. If he finds out, he’ll come back and I’ll never get rid of him, and I can never let him know and—”

  “You want rid of him?” Guillame gave me a disbelieving look. “You have a funny way of showing that.”

  My jaw worked. “I know you’re hurt. You’ll need time. I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I just… it happened. It was so… he was strangling me and then—”

  “What?” Guillame took a step towards me.

  I flushed, embarrassed. “Never mind. I’m sure you don’t want a blow by blow.”

  “If that’s the kind of foreplay you like, maybe I understand why I was never going to compete against him.”

  “It wasn’t… I don’t like… It just happened.” I was crying. Blaze pregnancy. I couldn’t keep the tears back. The emotion was too intense.

  Guillame sank his hands into his hair and turned away from me.

  I went back to my chair and sat down, trying to stop crying. No matter how many times I wiped tears off my face, they seemed to keep coming. I hiccuped.

  He turned back and looked at me, and the look on his face… he was destroyed. He drew in a ragged breath. And then he looked away and he staggered out of the room, as if he was carrying weights on his shoulders.

  I scooted down in my chair and gave myself over to sobs.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was supposed to spend the afternoon looking over plans for the new castle. We were going to tear down everything that remained of Castle Ignis and use the stones leftover to build a new castle, in a better position, one that wouldn’t be higher up, one that would be surrounded by two outer walls. I had looked at various designs, and I needed to decide which one we wanted to use.

  There was even a way we could divert the hot springs up to the new location, which pleased me greatly. I thought the hot springs might be my favorite thing.

  But I called the meeting off, telling everyone that I wasn’t properly able to think about such things.

  I could have gone to seek out Lirandet. I almost did, because I thought it might make me feel better to have something to occupy me, something to discover. But I wasn’t sure if I should speak to her about Jalal and my mother. And the more I thought about it, the more I worried that I wouldn’t know what to say to her about her relationship with Jalal.

  It would be easy enough if he were truly a villain, forcing her against her will. Then I’d just have him executed. Problem solved.

  Bu
t the situation was probably more complicated than that. I had observed them together, and she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. He seemed to treat her as an equal. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something untoward going on behind closed doors, of course.

  I wasn’t sure how to approach Lirandet. I wasn’t sure what to say. I decided to put it off for now.

  I went for a walk around the grounds instead, and when I got back to my room, Guillame was there, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  He looked up when I came in.

  “Hello,” I said quietly.

  “I should have asked if he forced you,” said Guillame. “I didn’t ask that. If he was strangling you—”

  “He didn’t force me,” I said. One thing I could say about Remy, he always stopped when I asked. It was funny. In some ways he was very respectful. In other ways, he was horrible to me.

  Guillame hung his head. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

  I stayed back instead of getting close to him. I wasn’t sure touching him would be welcome. “Look, I don’t want to have a baby. I know this is all awful.”

  “You said you had that, uh, that tea,” said Guillame.

  “I didn’t bring it with me,” I said. “I left it in Dumonte. Anyway, I never drank it after we were together anyway. I just… couldn’t.”

  He looked up at me again, and this time I realized his eyes were rimmed in red.

  My heart squeezed painfully. “Is it really that bad? You… I was always with him, and you—”

  “And I always hated it!”

  I winced.

  He sighed, hanging his head again. “You told me you chose me.”

  “I did.”

  “No, Fleur, you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t choose him. I sent him away.”

  “And if he shows back up?”

  “We have a treaty.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, I’m sure he’ll never come near you again.”

  “He, um… he asked me to come back with him. He said to bring you along, that he’d rather share me than lose me.”

  Guillame raised his head again, his nostrils flaring.

  “But I can’t leave Islaigne,” I said. “I asked him to stay here, and—”

  “Wait, who says I want into some three-way with the two of you?”