‘It sounds worse than it actually is,’ Diana said.
The Duchess grimaced. ‘I will never be able to repay you for finding Lia. That debt will never be settled.’
Coin looked uncomfortably angry, a strange combination that didn’t suit him.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I have a suggestion.’
Amusement flickered around Diana’s mouth. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Elevate me to Seventh Step.’
I didn’t know if Lia and I could have a future together. Goldenmarch had marked her in ways I would never understand. But with a higher rank, I could stay close to her. And, frankly, after everything that had happened, it was the least they could do.
Diana frowned and turned to Coin. ‘Is there a precedent?’
His mouth twitched. ‘No, Admiral. But there was also no precedent when you changed the abdication and inheritance laws.’
I could have hugged him, if he wouldn’t have reacted like a block of wood.
Diana continued frowning. ‘The Court won’t accept this.’
I wanted to reply, And where was the Court when Rassa sent Lia to Farezi? From the way Diana eyed me, my face reflected my thoughts.
‘I also want my family elevated.’
Diana lost control of her expression. Coin seemed incredibly proud, as if I’d solved a convoluted financial discrepancy and joked about it.
‘Very well,’ the Duchess said.
‘Duchess–’ Diana began.
‘Very well,’ the Duchess repeated, an edge in her voice. ‘She saved my daughter, and Lia loves her.’
My heart twisted. But I kept my face calm.
‘The Crown must reward her, and if she wishes to join the Seventh Step, we won’t refuse her. It needs new blood.’ The Duchess was a force to be reckoned with now. Diana and Coin would eventually agree with her.
Diana still looked unhappy, but said, ‘Very well. I’ll speak to the Queen, and then to Court and Parliament. The paperwork–’
‘I’ll be the witness,’ Coin interrupted. I glanced at him, startled, and he smiled.
I was the daughter of Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne, stepdaughter of Lord Martain. I was born Third Step, now Fifth Step, and soon to be Seventh Step. I loved my father, mourned him, and had avenged him. I’d fallen for a Queen, and committed treason to find her when she was lost.
I was Xania Bayonn.
And I would live.
Epilogue
Xania
Lia found me sprawled on the couch by the corner windows in our shared study, staring at my paperwork and considering the wine decanter.
‘Was it that intolerable?’ She crossed the room in a swirl of skirts, smiling, and perched on the couch arm. She brushed her fingers against my cheek, then behind my neck.
‘No, it was tolerable. Just about.’ As tolerable as a Treasury meeting could be. Following Lia’s return over five years ago, Coin had kept me in the Treasury because under no circumstances was the time and energy he’d put into me going to waste. Everyone, myself included, had been terrified that he was grooming me as his successor, but either Lia had confided in him or he’d seen where her intentions lay.
When she’d asked me to marry her a year ago, I was ready for the responsibility of overseeing the Treasury – and Coin.
He’d brought honey whiskey to our first meeting.
I placed a cushion on my lap. ‘How was the new Othayrian ambassador?’
‘Better than the Eshvon one,’ Lia said, ‘but that’s to be expected.’ She settled her head on the cushion, her skirts and legs dangling over the side.
‘We should have our mothers write to Juliaane. They could all commiserate on stubborn daughters.’
‘I don’t think Juliaane is ready to commiserate yet.’ When Isra was summoned home, and had just as politely refused to go, we’d offered her a proposition: to become the new Whispers. She couldn’t return home, whatever her reasons, and the decision was made easier by Aubrey also deciding to stay. Isra was suited to it, but it had meant cutting ties with Eshvon. Juliaane was still making her feelings on the matter quite clear.
Isra and Truth delighted each other.
I gently twisted Lia’s hair into curls around my fingers, breathing in the scent of her perfume, delicate and sweet. The spring sunlight caught against her eyelashes and mouth. It made the gold in her dark brown hair gleam, and sparked against the silver strands: a permanent reminder of Goldenmarch. Her grey eyes were calm. As she brushed her thumb over my knuckles, our silence deepened, only broken by birdsong through the open windows. After Rassa’s death, I couldn’t even hope that we’d have moments like this. If she could ever find peace within herself.
It took months before Lia could sleep without nightmares. Months before she didn’t flinch when someone brushed against her. I’d read to her every night, sitting first in a chair and then on the bed when she allowed it, lulling her with books against our grim reality. We slowly relearned our friendship as Lia relearned herself.
One night, almost a year after she’d been taken, I’d closed my book and worked myself up to goodnight. Lia had stared at my hand, then slowly, painfully cautious, kissed it: the first sign of physical affection she’d shown me since before her abdication.
I’d returned to my room, connected to hers, and sobbed into a pillow. Not for what I’d lost, but for what we’d regained.
The second summer after her return, Lia travelled north with Matthias and me. I saw where they’d wandered as children, their secret places and memories. She showed me where she’d stood, surrounded by dead sheep, when the rider arrived with news of her uncle’s impending death.
Something had changed, then, flickering between us when she took my hand. We stared at each other, then looked away. I remembered how we’d circled each other years before, reluctant to admit our feelings.
She took me to her bed late that summer. It wasn’t the same; we wore our history too heavily. We built something different, my fingers on her skin, delicately worshipping, her rediscovering the soft cries she could pull from me in the darkness.
I stroked a fingertip against her mouth; she kissed it. Her eyes closed as my fingertip trailed down her neck. Her pulse fluttered under my touch. As loath as I was to break the comfortable silence, the information on my desk wouldn’t disappear. ‘The Farezi Queen has written,’ I said, soft and careful. ‘Her ambassador is returning next week. She has agreed to the new terms.’
After Rassa’s death, his grieving, pregnant wife had relinquished the Edaran throne. Queen Arisane and her husband had abdicated in Farezi, ostensibly to help their daughter-in-law, but actually due to international criticism. If they couldn’t stop their usurper son, how were they fit to rule? Their daughter had become Queen.
And though Lia’s reign had steadied, there was still the matter of an heir. It took a year of cautious groundwork before she’d suggested that she formally adopt Emri, Rassa’s daughter, as her heir.
There had been uproar at a Farezi Princess eventually ruling, especially one related to a usurper. Lia had acknowledged the outrage, but pointed out that Emri was still distantly related to her. A woman with Edaran blood would still take the throne: the smoothest possible transition, a way to move beyond Rassa’s treachery and strengthen ties with Farezi.
It took time, more than Lia wanted, but she won over her advisors, her Court, and her people. Emri had not yet set foot on Edaran soil, but most were ready to welcome her. It was a start.
For Farezi, it would take a child with a legitimate claim out of the succession, and away from a family with complicated feelings about her place in their history. Neither of us felt particularly ready for a child – would we ever be? – but we’d face it together. Both of us knew, all too well, that Emri didn’t deserve to be judged by the actions and memory of her father. And she deserved to be loved.
When I felt Lia had brooded long enough, I poked her in the shoulder. ‘Come on. They’ve prepared lunch for us outside. We should go for a walk aft
erward, since this’ – I waved at the piles of paper on our respective desks – ‘awaits us.’
She sat up and kissed me, a soft press of lips. When we pulled apart, she rose and sank into a deep curtesy, then offered me her arm. ‘My Queen.’
They’d crowned me in my own right. I ruled with her, First of My Name.
‘My lady.’ I beamed and tucked my hand into the crook of her elbow. ‘All will be well,’ I added, for myself as much as her.
She loved me as I loved her, fierce as a bloodied blade.
Acknowledgements
While writing a book is often a solitary process, publishing a novel is not. There are many people who helped Queen of Coin and Whispers go from initial idea to drafts to novel:
My editor, Helen Carr, understood this book, and what I was trying to do with it, on levels I could only hope someone else would. Thank you for making edits fun and enjoyable, and always being patient when I answered character or worldbuilding queries with several paragraphs instead of a few sentences.
Thank you to everyone at The O’Brien Press for embracing this book. In particular, Michael and Ivan O’Brien; Brenda, Elena, and Aoife in Sales; Ruth and Tríona in Publicity; Bex and Emma in Production and Design (I will never get over the stunning cover); and Kunak in Rights. Thank you all for getting behind Lia and Xania.
My agent, Eric Smith, for being in my corner and loving this book early. Your initial email came at a hard time and convinced me to keep going.
For their unwavering support and belief that this book would get published: David R. Slayton, Elizabeth Freed (who read many drafts), and David Myer. Thanks also to the rest of the Speculators for chats and commiseration: Alex, Rena, Kat, Axie, Amanda, Anitra, Erin, and Nikki.
The Marybeths: Courtney, Ellen, and Kathryne. You also read many drafts, and were there from the beginning when this book started going out into the world.
Thank you to Katherine Locke for your support through drafts and rewrites, querying, and the publication process, and for loving this book when I felt shaky about it.
Thanks to Renee Nyen, Ruth Long, Alex Harrow, Anitra van Prooyen, and Suzanne Hocking for feedback on various drafts, and to Corinne Duyvis for that all-important yes when I mentioned my idea for a queer Queen and spymaster book.
Thank you to Team Rocks and the UK/Ireland 2020 Group for support and friendship during the publication process.
To the booksellers and bloggers who supported Queen of Coin and Whispers early on: you are all so important for getting books into people’s hands. Thanks especially to Martin, Mary, Gabbie, and Alan for being there when it all started happening.
Thank you to my family for buying so many books when I was a kid, though you had no idea where it would lead.
And thanks to the Harcourt and Dawson Street Starbucks, and the kitchen tables in Dubray Grafton Street and Dún Laoghaire. I spent way more time with you than anyone else during this process, and I always swore I’d put you in the acknowledgements.
About the Author
HELEN CORCORAN grew up in Cork, Ireland, dreaming of scheming queens and dashing lady knights. After graduating from Trinity College, Dublin, she worked as a bookseller for over a decade. She lives in Dublin, writing fantasy novels and haunting coffee shops in search of the perfect latte.
Copyright
This eBook edition first published 2020 by
The O’Brien Press Ltd,
12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar,
Dublin 6, D06 HD27 Ireland.
Tel: +353 1 4923333; Fax: +353 1 4922777
E-mail: [email protected].
Website: www.obrien.ie
The O’Brien Press is a member of Publishing Ireland.
First published 2020
eBook ISBN: 978–1–78849–203–4
Text © copyright Helen Corcoran 2020
Copyright for typesetting, layout, editing, design
© The O’Brien Press Ltd
Design and layout by Emma Byrne
Cover design by Emma Byrne
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
or utilised in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or in any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission
in writing from the publisher.
Queen of Coin and Whispers received financial assistance from the Arts Council.Publisher.
Queen of Coin and Whispers received financial assistance from the Arts Council.
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