Throne Shaker (The Clash and the Heat Book 3)

by Val Saintcrowe

  By noon, it was quiet again.

  There was smoke in the air and the haze darkened everything, but there were birds squawking in the distance and all was still.

  Until the birds swooped down, carrion who were there to feed on the dead.

  I glowered at the walls of the castle, thinking of Remy, thinking of everything he had put me through over the years.

  How did I get past his army?

  He’d once said that there was only one way this ended between us, with one of us killing the other.

  He had been right.

  GUILLAME

  Guillame met Remy at the doors to the castle. He’d been watching the battle from the top of the wall on the east side, and he’d wondered at it all. He hadn’t known the king was back. He certainly hadn’t mobilized the army. But when he saw the flames surrounding the Dumonte army, he knew that Remy must have returned.

  It would have been foolish to try to meet him on the field, so Guillame waited.

  It was probably foolish to meet him at all, Guillame supposed. But he wasn’t going to run.

  “Not wearing my crown? I thought you would be,” said Remy by way of greeting.

  “I only declared myself king to try to get you back,” said Guillame.

  “I know,” said Remy, striding past him.

  Guillame hesitated and then started after Remy. “Well, what are you doing?”

  “Do we have a small model of the castle in the council room?” Remy threw over his shoulder. “We used to have one. I remember my father using it.”

  Guillame hurried to catch up. “What good is a model of the castle? You can’t be thinking to use the walls as any kind of protection. She’ll burn straight through.”

  “I need a visual,” said Remy, walking faster.

  “Listen, where’s the princess?”

  “Sure, I’ll tell you,” said Remy. “Then you’ll go straight there and take her to Fleur, right? Besides, I told Fleur where she was already. So, if she’d wanted to go and save her daughter, she could have done that. She decided to attack me instead. Are you surprised? Would you really have expected her to do anything different?”

  Guillame fell into step next to Remy. “What’s your plan here? You can’t think to keep the princess forever. You can’t keep a child from her mother.”

  “I just… I need to subdue Fleur,” said Remy. “She’s angry, but she’ll work it out of her system. She’ll get it all out and then she’ll calm down. And then we can talk. I need to make sure she doesn’t cause too much damage until then.”

  Guillame was not sure that Fleur was going to calm down.

  But by then, they’d made it to the council room.

  Remy went rummaging through a closet in the corner and came out with a model of the castle. It was old and the east tower had broken off.

  He set it down on the table and went and retrieved the broken off east tower, which he set back on top. It settled down crookedly.

  Remy stood back, surveying it, folding his arms over his chest.

  “You have to give the princess back,” said Guillame.

  “Where’s Beau?” said Remy, still staring at the model.

  “I sent him and Coralie away. It was dangerous.”

  “Good,” said Remy.

  Guillame didn’t think Remy had ever shone one iota of concern for the boy. Guillame was a bit taken aback.

  “How far can a gun fire from the top of the walls?” said Remy.

  “Three thousand feet, maybe four thousand,” said Guillame. “But at that distance, the accuracy is terrible and there’s not nearly as much force behind the bullet as within close range. They’re much better within about three hundred feet.”

  “If I have enough people up here firing, the accuracy might not matter.”

  “For blaze’s sake, Remy, you and I both know it doesn’t matter about her army. It’s the firestarters.”

  “Right,” said Remy, stroking his beard. “So, we take out her firestarters.”

  “Oh, certainly, as easily as that.” Guillame snorted. “If we could have done that with Cyrille—”

  “We could have done it with Cyrille,” said Remy. “The issue was that we couldn’t penetrate the fire he set around the encampments. But I can walk through the fire. I’ll go into the camp, and I’ll kill all of the firestarters personally.”

  “What? You can’t do that. If she finds you—”

  “She won’t hurt me,” said Remy. His thumb strayed to his palm, and he ran it over a scar there. Guillame had seen it before, but he’d never asked Remy about it.

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware how angry she is,” said Guillame.

  “I’d rather wait until the cover of night, but I can’t be sure she won’t rally and attack again,” said Remy.

  “You’re the king,” said Guillame. “You don’t go waltzing into the enemy encampment. It’s simply not done. If you die—”

  “Then you’ll be regent and Beau will take the throne,” said Remy.

  “What if she captures you and holds you for ransom?”

  “Don’t pay a ransom, and don’t trade Margo for me,” said Remy.

  “Well, to do that, I’d have to know where Margo was.”

  “She’s in the east tower, where I kept Coralie when she claimed to be with child,” said Remy. “Under heavy guard. You won’t get in there easily.”

  Guillame shook his head. “I won’t let you go to her camp.”

  “Who’s the king here again?” said Remy.

  “Well, I don’t know. I did declare myself, didn’t I?”

  “How will you stop me, though?” said Remy, shrugging. “I’d hate to have to burn you, Guillame.” He lifted his hand and it burst into flame.

  Guillame thought that was the only time Remy had ever called him by his first name.

  Remy put out the fire and patted the other man’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I think it will work. If it doesn’t, put musqueteers on the towers and have them shoot into her camp until we run out of bullets.” He gave Guillame a smile and strode out of the room.

  Guillame stared down at the model for a minute, and then—sighing—he went after Remy. “Wait.”

  Remy didn’t wait.

  Guillame had to practically run to catch up with him. He caught the other man by the shoulder. “Remy, stop.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was betraying Fleur, but Fleur had gone mad. If she truly knew her daughter was in the castle and she was attacking the castle, then Guillame thought she needed to be stopped. Furthermore, there were lives at stake. This entire court was at stake. Guillame hadn’t served here for years without becoming attached.

  So, betrayal it was.

  “You can’t talk me out of it,” said Remy.

  “What if we had another firestarter?” said Guillame.

  “What are you talking about? We don’t,” said Remy.

  “No, but her own firestarters are people who were caught up in explosions in Islaigne. They serve Fleur because they have no other choice. Their families probably all died in the explosions. They’re freaks. They’re lonely. They probably have survivor’s guilt. What do you think Fleur’s ever offered them? Probably not much to people who have nothing. So, I bet we find at least one who’d be mercenary enough to switch sides.”

  Remy blinked at him. And then he slowly shook his head. “The way your mind works, it never ceases to amaze me.”

  Guillame gave him a wry smile. “Do I have your authorization to open the treasury?”

  “You do,” said Remy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I walked in on Dellon the firestarter pulling a bloody knife out of Estair’s chest. I had come to Estair’s tent to ask her to gather the other firestarters together. Dellon was young and new to it all. After his family had been killed, he’d been pretty disturbed by it all. He’d been eager for the war. He’d wanted violence, hungered for it. I recognized it because I knew that hunger.

  He wiped his knife off on Estair’s shirt,
gazing at me as he did it.

  “What have you done?” I murmured.

  He turned his back on me and used the knife to cut through the tent, making himself an escape route.

  I reached out to try to touch him, to douse his magic, to do something.

  But he was too fast for me.

  I went after him, through the hole in the tent, yelling for someone to stop him.

  But anyone who got in his path, he burned.

  I ran after him, but he was accepted into a contingent of musqueteers who were waiting several yards away from the edge of my encampment. The musqueteers closed ranks around him, and they started to walk away.

  “Why?” I called after him.

  But he didn’t answer.

  It was only after I got back into the camp that I realized that Estair had been his last victim. Before killing her, he’d stabbed every single one of my firestarters. Nine of them were in their tents, but the others were outside the others’ tents, almost as if they’d been working with him to murder the others.

  I realized that must have been how it went.

  This was some sort of scheme by Remy and Guillame—it reeked of Guillame—to get my firestarters to turn sides. They’d probably been offered gold, and Dellon had decided to kill everyone and take all of it for himself.

  Before I could even properly react to this new knowledge, there were cries that the Dumonte army was approaching.

  I leapt to my feet and went to meet the men as they marched toward us.

  Remy and Dellon stood together, fire rushing from their fingers, licking its way across the ground toward me.

  I pushed my power down into the ground, through the soles of my feet, through my toes, and I pulled the fire into myself.

  It ignited my entire body, several times more powerful than it had been before.

  I spread my arms wide and I unleashed the fire back at the approaching army.

  Remy and Dellon put up a wall of fire for protection.

  But my fire was so much stronger than theirs that it roared through their fire and over Remy and Dellon. They stood, unaffected.

  But the army behind him was not so lucky. My flames licked through a vast swath of his men, killing them instantly.

  When I looked back, Remy was gone.

  It was only Dellon there.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I started to walk towards him. He was hurt, certainly. He’d lost his family. I had felt sorry for him. But he’d sold me out for riches, and he’d murdered people that he’d been close to. I didn’t feel sorry for him anymore.

  He threw magic at me.

  I sucked it up and threw it back at Remy’s army.

  I caught some of them on fire, but the had scattered, and they were moving into smaller formations. They weren’t so tight together as they marched.

  And from behind me, I heard screaming.

  I turned to see that Remy was burning my army from behind.

  I pushed magic into the earth and doused his flame, and then I turned back to Dellon. I pushed through the earth again, reaching out with my feelings. Maybe if I just pushed I could find a way to douse him without touching him.

  I shut my eyes and I opened myself wide.

  But I couldn’t touch Dellon, and I couldn’t touch Remy.

  What I did feel was Islaigne, across the ocean, far away, all the fires raging under the earth. I could feel my connection to that living flame, all that power.

  If only I could channel it to destroy everything.

  But my power wasn’t to destroy. It was to douse and smother.

  And as I reached out, touching the flames of Islaigne, I felt something. Or maybe I saw it. It was strange and otherworldly, a sensation in my mind’s eye, something hard to explain. But I could see myself, opening myself all the way and letting out all of the dousing power that was in me. I had never let it all out, not every single drop of it. I realized that if I did, I would die.

  It would be like when I had tried to take Remy’s power with the jewel. Ripping that magic away from me would end me. It wouldn’t be like what I’d done with Ophelie, turning off the fuel to the flame.

  No, this would be huge, bigger than anything I’d ever done.

  And if I did it… I would put out all of the flame in Islaigne.

  I would douse it all. Forever.

  Like the queen in the prophecy that Lirandet had talked about that first dinner back in Islaigne. The queen who died and came back to life. The queen who put out the flames. She was the reborn savior of her people, but she was reclaimed by Death himself, who came for her on a winged horse.

  I would save my people by dying for them.

  I came back to myself, suddenly, gasping.

  The air was full of smoke and heat and flame. Guns were being discharged, knights and musqueteers were screaming, and swords were being brandished in the afternoon light.

  Dellon was nearly on top of me. He had that knife of his and he was coming for me.

  “No!” screamed a voice, and Dellon was tackled by Remy.

  They grappled on the ground until Dellon was still.

  Remy got up, leaving the other man lying on the ground, his throat red.

  Remy looked at me.

  I blinked, swallowing hard. Then I raised my voice. “Surrender. We surrender!”

  Remy was panting, eyeing me. Then he turned to address his own men. “Put up your arms,” he bellowed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I stood at the doorway to my old quarters on the first floor, my heart in my throat. It hadn’t escaped me that if I had destroyed the castle except for the west tower, I would have killed Margo, because she was here, not in the west tower, after all.

  Remy had lied to me. I should have known, but I’d been too angry to think. It had also been a test, perhaps, to see if I’d go straight for her, or if I’d take a different action.

  Now, going after him, my vengeance, it seemed so ridiculous. Everything was different now.

  Guillame was shaking his head. “I should have known you didn’t mean it when you said she was in the east tower.”

  Margo saw me and she smiled. She got up from the table where she was sitting and ran toward me.

  I knelt down and caught her up in my arms. She felt perfect there, her small arms twined around my neck. I kissed her soft, little-girl skin, I whispered nonsense to her. I was crying.

  To get here, I had told Remy that I would negotiate with him, that we’d work out some sort of schedule for Margo, but that wasn’t the way things were going to be.

  I knew it, but I hugged my daughter and tried to pretend it was going to be different.

  My mother had made choices that I didn’t agree with, sentencing too many to die when she tried to burn down Islaigne. But she had also been willing to stay in the burning country and sacrifice herself, so even though she hadn’t saved her people, she had still tried to do something noble.

  Here I was, years later, with almost the same choice.

  I didn’t want to do it.

  Growing up without my mother had scarred me. Living with the sisters had not been a good substitute for a loving family. My uncle had tried to kill me. I didn’t want any life like that for my daughter.

  So, I didn’t want to die.

  Certainly, my other plan could work. I’d find some place for my people to live in Dumonte. Islaigne would burn itself out, and it would be gone. It would be sad, but it was just land. I didn’t need to sacrifice myself for a piece of land.

  Of course, there were logistics to moving my entire country to Dumonte.

  For one thing, Remy had not actually agreed to giving me any land yet, and I didn’t know how things truly stood between us at the moment. I had been dead set on killing him only a short time ago. Was there any reason to think I would not try to kill him again very soon? Could I share a country with this man?

  No, of course I could. There was no reason to commit suicide. None.

  I didn’t have ships for all the peo
ple in my country.

  I knew that when I formed the plan to come to Dumonte. We’d have to take separate trips. It would take time, but I would get everyone out. However, in the meantime, with the rate of explosions, certainly some people would die, and if I went back and killed myself, they could live.

  I couldn’t be sure.

  Maybe there would be no explosions, or maybe all the explosions would be in places where no one lived.

  Or maybe they’d be right in the middle of a farmhouse, and a family would die. Perhaps it would only be two parents and three children.

  Only five people.

  And surely, hadn’t I just asked my people to die in this battle with Remy, so that I could kill him, just because I was angry?

  So, what did it matter? Five people could die so that I could be with my daughter.

  But the knights that I’d brought to battle had wanted to fight. They had chosen it. They had known the risk. I might have their souls on my conscience, but it wasn’t the same as the rest of my people.

  And where was the line?

  I might sacrifice five people, but what if it was one hundred? What if it was three hundred?

  How many people would I ask to die so that I could stay with her? How many?

  Margo let go of me and touched my face. “Mama, you don’t have to cry, we’re together again.”

  I sniffed, wiping at my tears. “Yes, we are, my sweet one.” I kissed her forehead. She was everything to me. She was my own lovely little girl.

  She turned to look up at the people who were behind me. “Why didn’t you tell me I had a father?” She sounded curious. She wasn’t accusing me.

  I didn’t answer her.

  She reached out a hand to Remy.

  He stepped forward and his fingers touched hers.

  She smiled up at him, a sunny expression, and in it, I saw how much she had come to feel for him, in only a short time.

  I turned to look up at Remy’s face. He knelt down next to me. “This is your time with your mother, Princess. You’ve had ages with just me.”

  Margo turned to me. “I thought only the other children had fathers, you know. I didn’t know princesses got them. You could have told me.”