Kingsbane

by Claire Legrand

  Eliana

  “Vintervok, the capital of Astavar, is a city well-guarded, its borders difficult to penetrate. It sits in a high valley between thickly forested mountains scattered through with glacial lakes. Nearby is Karajak Bay, its waters littered with rocks and ice for much of the year. In fact, this is the element that has made Astavar impossible to conquer. For years we have battered its doors, and yet they stand tall.”

  —A report from Admiral Ravikant, commander of the imperial fleet, to His Majesty the Emperor of the Undying

  The next morning, in the kings’ council chambers, Eliana shifted uncomfortably in her chair and graced the polished table with a scowl.

  “I hate this dress,” she muttered.

  Remy, in the chair beside her, watching the kings and the queen consort and the commander of the Astavari army file in with their advisers, trembled with excitement. Eliana wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d actually started bouncing in his chair.

  “You like dresses,” he argued.

  “I like other dresses. I hate this dress.”

  Hob, on Remy’s other side, glanced over. “Why? It’s a nice dress.”

  “It’s too fine for me.” She gestured at the intricate embroidery on the bodice, the soft velvet folds of the satin-trimmed indigo skirt. “It’s too fussy.”

  “It’s fit for a queen,” Hob pointed out.

  “I’m no queen.”

  “Of course you are,” Remy said, now perched on the edge of his chair. “You’re the Sun Queen.”

  Eliana barely refrained from snapping at him to never call her that again. The memory of Navi’s deranged screams from the previous night lingered alongside the echoes of her nightmare. And the strength of Remy’s faith in the destiny Simon had prescribed for her—the ancient, fervent heft of that destiny; the centuries of murmured prayers, including her own—left her feeling breathless, nauseated.

  Cornered.

  Not to mention starkly aware of how her skull still throbbed from Navi’s attack. She had styled her hair to hide the scabbing cut, which would ensure that intrusive rebel captains didn’t pester her with questions about it. But hiding the wound did nothing to assuage her own relentless, burrowing worry that this—this fragility, this low, humming presence of pain—was the beginning of a horrible new reality.

  The royal secretary rapped his gavel against the table, making Eliana jump.

  “This council meeting is now in session,” he announced, and then put his pen to paper to begin recording.

  King Tavik, tall and thin, with golden-brown skin and graying black hair, smiled warmly at those gathered—though the shadows beneath his eyes and the tired lines around his mouth belied his true state of mind. He glanced at Eliana’s neck, where the bruises from Navi’s hands marked her skin.

  She did not drop her gaze, but she regretted not wearing a scarf. Everyone present knew what had transpired the night before; it would have been kind to spare them the reminder.

  A gentler person, perhaps, would have remembered that.

  She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, keeping her expression neutral.

  “Good morning, everyone,” King Tavik began. “I hope you don’t mind if I get straight to the point. As you’ll recall, the intelligence brought to us by Princess Navana warned of a second, smaller Empire fleet, which planned to launch from the northwestern coast of Ventera and strike us on our southern border, near the mouth of the Ulioqua River. You’ll be pleased to learn that our defenses have easily dispatched said fleet, sinking seven warships and sending the remaining four retreating back to Ventera.”

  Murmurs of celebration drifted around the table. One of the queen consort’s advisers clapped Commander Lianti Haakorat on the back. He smiled tightly, his gaze cutting to Remy.

  Eliana bristled at the annoyed expression on the commander’s face. She fisted her hands in her lap.

  Simon sat back in his chair and propped one long leg atop the other. “That was lucky.”

  King Eri frowned. He sat to the left of his husband, shorter and more muscular, with pale skin and dark-brown hair. “Did you wish to add something, Simon?”

  “How fortunate,” Simon said, “that you were able to dispatch an entire armada of Empire ships in the span of, what, two days?”

  “Navi’s intelligence was accurate and thorough,” King Eri replied, a flicker of sadness in his voice. “We were fortunate, yes, but also well prepared.”

  Simon shook his head. “It was far too brief and bloodless a conflict. They are testing you, lulling you into a false sense of security.”

  Lady Ama, the queen consort, folded her hands atop the table. “To what end, Captain?”

  Eliana could hardly look at Lady Ama. Her face was too similar to Navi’s—elegant and finely boned, with wide hazel eyes, warm brown skin, and a full, expressive mouth. Instead Eliana glanced around the table, reading the expressions of the gathered officials as Simon spoke. The secretary scribbled furiously, his pen flying. Several other advisers took notes; others stood at the room’s perimeter, sifting through papers.

  Commander Haakorat was rigid in his chair. His gaze flitted irritably to Remy, to Hob, to Remy again. When he looked at Eliana, she held his gaze, defiant, until Hob cleared his throat and broke her attention.

  “To keep you distracted,” Simon answered Lady Ama. “To keep your forces spread thin. To catch you off guard.” He shrugged. “It could be any number of things, but to assume that this latest victory was anything but a calculated loss on the part of the Empire is a mistake.”

  The queen consort’s mouth quirked. “Yes, and God forbid we take a moment to celebrate even that.”

  Eliana glanced once more at Commander Haakorat. The man seemed increasingly agitated—shifting in his chair, drumming his fingers against the table.

  One of his advisers hurried over. “Shall I bring you a glass of water, my lord?”

  “No,” he muttered, glaring at Remy. “I need no water.”

  “Even if you’re right,” King Tavik was saying, “autumn is coming, with winter fast on its heels. The ice should protect us from further onslaught, at least until the spring thaws. We’ll spend the next few months drilling our troops, replenishing our stores—”

  Simon scoffed.

  King Eri said sharply, “Right hand of the Prophet you may be, Captain, but in this palace, you are a guest. You will demonstrate the proper respect, or you will no longer be welcome at these meetings.”

  Simon inclined his head. “I must point out that there is a danger no one here has yet addressed, not once in the nine days since we arrived.”

  “And what is that?” asked King Eri.

  “The Kaavalan Passage.”

  Light laughter scattered across the table.

  “Our scout ships have reported back that the passage is frozen solid,” Lady Ama pointed out. “The ice is thick, and it will only get thicker during the coming months. Ships can’t break through thousands of miles of icebergs the size of palaces, Captain. Not even Empire ships.”

  “They won’t need ships,” Simon argued.

  “Ground forces?” King Tavik did nothing to hide his incredulity. “Simon, not even adatrox can survive temperatures that frigid.”

  “Can’t they?”

  Commander Haakorat slammed his hands on the table, making several people jump.

  “Forgive me, my kings, my lady,” he snapped, “but does anyone else here care that we have a child in our midst?”

  Eliana sat back, smiling. Suddenly all her nervous energy had a target. Her mind flushed hot and clear. “I was wondering when you would say something, Commander. I’ve been watching you stew and wagering with myself how long it would take for that vein in your forehead to burst.”

  “I’m overjoyed that I can provide entertainment for you, Lady Eliana,” said the commander, �
��but this is not a joke. My kings, not two weeks ago, these people were completely unknown to us. Is it wise to speak of such sensitive matters in front of them? Especially when one is a child, likely to spill secrets whenever it suits him?”

  Remy surged to his feet, face screwed up with indignation. “Just because I’m a child doesn’t mean I can’t keep secrets!”

  Hob touched Remy’s shoulder and gently directed him back to his seat. “You needn’t worry about Remy, Commander. I’d wager he has as stout a heart as anyone seated here, if not more so.”

  “Ah. The word of yet another Venteran stranger.” Commander Haakorat flung his hand at Hob. “Truly, I am reassured.”

  Simon’s voice held a dangerous edge. “I’ve vouched for them. And my word is as good as the Prophet’s. Is that not enough?”

  “Not to mention,” Eliana bit out, “that, were it not for me, Commander, your miserable ass would be half-eaten by crawlers and frozen at the bottom of the sea by now. If that isn’t enough to prove my worth and loyalty to you, please do let me know, and the next time your country is invaded, I’ll be sure to sit back and put my feet up rather than fly to your rescue.” She rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  In the hallway, she brushed past the guards flanking the council chamber doors and stormed east in the direction of her rooms.

  Behind her, quick footsteps followed.

  “We need to leave,” murmured Simon, catching up with her. “As soon as possible.”

  His words were hardly a surprise, but Eliana nevertheless felt a swell of dread to hear them. Leave. Leave and go where, and do what?

  “I’m not going anywhere until Navi is healed,” she said.

  “Navi won’t be healed,” came his blunt reply. “We thought the Fidelia physicians hadn’t begun the transformation procedures. We were obviously wrong. Her body has been mutated, forever changed. There is no cure.” His voice softened. “It would be better for you, and for Remy, if we were gone by the time she gets worse.”

  Eliana’s eyes filled with tears. Unable to speak, she stared straight ahead, imagining she could use her eyes to drill holes in the floor.

  They walked in silence for another few moments before Simon spoke again. “Have you read the books I retrieved for you?”

  “Some,” she replied, lifting her chin.

  “But not all?”

  “No.”

  Simon blew out a sharp breath. “Have you at least read the passages I marked?”

  “Some.”

  “But not all?”

  Eliana smiled to herself. “You sound irritated.”

  Simon cut in front of her, forcing her to stop walking. “And what of your power?” he asked, searching her face. “Has it surfaced again, even for the slightest instant? How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know, and no, and I was feeling much better before this interrogation began.”

  She would not allow herself to quail, no matter how intensely he looked at her, no matter how heated his gaze. They hadn’t yet spoken of the night she’d awoken after the battle—his hands reverently touching her face, his soft pledge of loyalty.

  How close she had come to joining him in his bed.

  They hadn’t spoken of it, and she preferred it that way, and would maintain the silence for as long as she could.

  She had been full of grief that night, exhausted and lonely. She had craved the comfort of a lover’s hands—even if those hands were scarred, cruel, and murderous.

  Never again.

  At last, Simon looked away, his mouth twisting. “We have so much work to do. I thought that after the battle, after your storm, that your power would have fully awakened, and we could proceed to refine it.”

  Eliana stepped past him. “I’m terribly sorry to have disappointed you.”

  Simon hurried after her. “The disdain you hold for me, while entirely charming, is neither shocking nor productive.”

  “You can’t imagine how little I care about your assessment of my disdain.”

  Simon laughed as they rounded the corner into the narrow hallway that led to their rooms. “My imagination is boundless, in fact.”

  His words plucked a taut wire in her belly, sending a shiver of heat down her arms. She ignored it. “I need to practice using my power, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, of course, that’s what I’ve been trying to urge you toward.”

  “Surely, then, it is safer for me to do that here in Vintervok—under the protection of the kings’ army, with the entire catalog of the royal libraries at my disposal, in a kingdom untouched by the Empire—rather than on the road with only you for company.”

  Simon exhaled sharply. “Eliana…” he said as if to begin some fresh new diatribe, but then he paused, and the sound of his voice saying her name lingered in the air like the last chords of a song.

  Desperate to shake it from her ears, Eliana whirled to face him. “You claim I am your queen.”

  Simon stopped. “Yes.”

  “And you are a soldier. My adviser, and my protector.”

  “Yes,” Simon answered quietly. “Always, Eliana.”

  “Then advise me, as you have done, and protect me, as you will no doubt continue to do—at least until I have no further use for you—and until then, get out of my way.”

  With that, she pushed past him and left him standing alone in the shadowed hall.

  • • •

  That night, Eliana sat at the desk in her room, unable to sleep, with a pile of ancient books lying open before her.

  She glared at the nearest page of tiny text, trying for the fifth time to read the opening paragraph of the chapter Simon had marked for her:

  Parents who are curious about a child’s elemental leanings may begin lessons with the child, under the guidance of temple acolytes, as early as the Church deems appropriate. Every child’s capabilities are, of course, unique. One child may be capable of accessing the empirium as early as the age of eight (though this is rare, and such tutelage should only occur under strict Church guidance). Another child, even one in the same family, may not do so until some years later, or may never exhibit elemental powers whatsoever. A young windsinger from the Mazabat capital of Quelbani, for example, was not able to access the empirium, and therefore use her God-given power, until the age of seventeen—

  With a muttered curse, Eliana slammed the book shut. Dust puffed into her face, and she sneezed and cursed again, more loudly, and kicked the nearest leg of the desk.

  “I know a way to save Navi,” came a voice from just behind her.

  Eliana whirled, hand flying to Arabeth at her hip before her mind caught up with the truth.

  She glared up at Zahra’s drifting dark form, the wraith’s inscrutable face hovering some four feet above Eliana’s own. Zahra’s body shifted from one moment to the next—first a shapeless cloud; then the echo of the stately, eight-foot-tall angel she had once been, magnificent wings of light and shadow fanning out from her back; then flickering into nothingness.

  “Also,” Zahra continued, her sonorous voice a balm to Eliana’s tired mind, “I should tell you that Simon is, as we speak, storming about the palace in a remarkable temper. Well done, there. I heartily enjoy watching him fume.”

  “Really, Zahra,” Eliana scolded, “you’ve got to stop drifting in and out of rooms just because you can. It isn’t polite.”

  “Coming from you, a paragon of manners and etiquette, that means almost nothing.”

  Eliana smiled, so grateful for the interruption that at first the wraith’s words didn’t truly register. Then she stood, her heart pounding. “Wait. Did you say you know a way to save Navi?”

  Zahra looked inordinately pleased. She pushed a ghostly bundle of her long, white hair over her shoulder. “I do. I know of a place that will, in all likelihood, have at least a small suppl
y of the crawler antidote.”

  “In all likelihood.”

  “I must admit the possibility that I am wrong. Though I don’t believe I am.”

  “Is it far?”

  “Not so very far, no.”

  “Is it dangerous there?”

  “Extremely. In fact, my queen, it is with great reluctance that I speak to you of this now, for it is not a place I wish you to visit. But…” Zahra drifted closer, reaching for Eliana’s shoulder. The wraith’s touch was a gentle breeze, chilled and silken. “I know she is dear to you, my queen, and that her condition pains you.”

  “Thank you.” Eliana returned Zahra’s touch as best she could—a brush of her hand against Zahra’s arm, her fingers dipping into icy water, smooth as honey. “How long will it take us, to travel to this place?”

  “A few hours. We will need to move carefully.”

  “What is it called?”

  “In Astavari, it is called Annerkilak. In the common tongue, it is referred to as the Nest. One of the most dangerous underground markets in the world, and one of the few that deal in stolen angelic goods.”

  Eliana nodded. “Such as the crawler antidote.”

  “And as you can imagine, such a place is heavily guarded, and not only by humans. By wraiths as well. A contingent of them, loyal to no one but themselves—not Red Crown, not the Emperor. They oversee everything within the market’s borders. Only those they wish to find the Nest are able to. It is a game for them, making trades and bargains, tormenting thieves, reveling in riches. A distraction from their misery.”

  Eliana turned away to stand before the windows. Beyond them, the night sky stretched across the snow-capped mountains. Morning was beginning to touch the far eastern sky.

  “Do the kings know about this place?” she asked after a long moment.

  “Yes. It is a difficult balance they must strike—allowing the Nest to exist and its wraiths to play as they will, but preventing it from rising up and swallowing the city whole. A place like the Nest is inevitable in such a world as ours, and the kings have bigger battles to wage.”

  “And Simon? Does he know?”

  “As far as I can tell, no,” Zahra said archly. “Though, as you know, my queen, my ability to read that horrible, clawed-up mind of his is less than reliable.” She paused, scowling. “I hope you won’t ask me to tell him, or ask him to join us.”