by Frank Morin
They needed someone else to pick on, and High Lord Goban spotted Connor. “He’s probably planning to force his puppet boy onto the throne.”
They eagerly turned against Connor. High Lord Feichin sneered. “Blood of the Tallan or no, you’re no king.”
Connor wasn’t surprised they would single him out for opposition. He might be a hero of the revolution, but to the establishment he was considered one of their worst enemies, even though he had freed their children from the queen’s mind bombs. Few people understood what he had done to defeat Queen Dreokt or how much he’d sacrificed. He was no longer Blood of the Tallan, but he was discovering new aspects to his remaining affinities that no one had ever explored before. He was far from helpless.
“He defeated Queen Dreokt when all you could do was wet yourselves every time she walked into the room,” Hamish snapped.
Lord Eoghan barked a humorless laugh. “Says the Builder who dares walk among us with the law still calling for your death.”
“You wouldn’t be the first coward to mock me before he dies,” Hamish said calmly.
At that point, the meeting looked on the verge of spiraling out of control, and Connor found he didn’t mind the idea so much. He’d have to move fast to clobber that pompous idiot Eoghan before Hamish got his hands on him. Before they could even get a bash fight going, Ailsa snatched the staff from her chief and slammed it so hard onto the floor that Connor was amazed it didn’t crack.
She regarded the startled crowds with green eyes flashing, and no one dared sneer at her displeasure. “Enough of such petty insults. You’re all supposed to be our nation’s leaders. Is this the best you can behave? I’m ashamed of you.”
Kilian spoke into the awkward silence that followed. “I think the solution is clear. High Lord Feichin himself suggested the answer.”
That surprised Connor. As Feichin swelled with pride, looking smugly over at a stunned Eoghan, Kilian continued. “We need someone with experience, someone the existing nobility can trust, but someone respected by Guardians and the international community. As I said earlier, that eliminates any of the existing high house leaders.”
That poked a hole in Feichin’s happy bubble. Kilian had everyone’s attention, and it looked like most of them were seriously considering the daunting question. Who could they all support? It wouldn’t be Kilian, or Connor, or any of the existing high lords.
“Who do you propose?” Ailsa asked.
“General Shona, of course.”
Kilian gestured, and Shona took a step forward, drawing every eye.
Connor gaped, his mouth actually falling open as he stared at Shona, who started to subtly glow under the attention. Kilian had used her title of general, tying her back to the Freedom army instead of her title as high lady of Merkland. Verena’s hand clutched his so hard he winced and instinctively tried to tap granite. He couldn’t, of course, but the reaction was still so ingrained, he couldn’t help it.
Verena regarded Shona with a forced neutral expression. Connor didn’t need to actively tap chert to understand her thoughts. She’d sparred with Shona every chance they could get since she gained her granite affinity, and they’d miraculously become close. The transition had been subtle and slow, and Connor was still amazed that just beating on each other every day had produced such a positive result.
Connor applauded Kilian’s deft maneuver, surprised that he actually welcomed the proposal. His relationship with Shona had been complex and confusing, but she’d grown so much that she had become the leader she’d always projected to the world.
Shona made a graceful curtsy to Kilian and her rich voice filled the room. “I accept your nomination, Lord Kilian.”
Wolfram and Fyodor both looked pleased by the idea. Hamish and Jean were both gaping, but Aifric didn’t look surprised. Had Kilian discussed the idea with her ahead of time? The Guardian leaders all nodded enthusiastically. Shona might be a high lady, but she had chosen the revolution early enough that no one could accuse her of switching sides out of some sort of political astuteness. She’d risked everything to fight for Obrion’s freedom, and she was beloved by everyone in the revolution.
Most of the assembled lords and ladies looked surprised, but receptive. Shona was one of them, after all. She didn’t represent a dire threat to their existence like more radical candidates might. Before the revolution, she’d been positioned as one of the most powerful high ladies, so the idea of her rule was nothing new. Even Queen Dreokt had approved of her until she switched sides.
Lord Eoghan looked at a loss for words. High Lord Feichin frowned and seemed to be desperately trying to figure out a way to object. Rosslyn grinned, but her father was clearly unwilling to surrender easily, even though it was clear Shona’s nomination was gaining momentum.
He exclaimed, “Can we really support one who abandoned her duty as high lady and helped lead a hostile army attacking the very heart of our nation?”
The question aroused the simmering anger of many of the nobles, but Shona simply asked, “So you would rather mad Queen Dreokt remained in power, savaging your houses, and ripping apart the minds of your children?”
That turned the tide against him, and he felt it, glancing at the other gathered nobles. Arguing that the nation was better off under Queen Dreokt would never win the day.
Lord Eoghan asked, “How can we know you’ll fairly represent every faction, both the existing high houses and the newly freed Guardians?”
Tricky question, and it generated a ripple of murmurs, but Connor doubted he’d stump Shona. Shona had helped lead the revolution, after all, but any doubts seemed magnified in that meeting. A revolution was happening, their way of life was threatened, and unknowns hovered in the wings. What would happen to them? How could they coexist with Guardians ungoverned and looking for their own titles and recognition?
Shona maintained her composure and said, “Excellent question, my lord, and one I am happy to address.”
“Really?” Lord Eoghan asked.
“Absolutely. As Lady Ailsa so eloquently stated at the beginning of these proceedings, we are laying the foundation for a greater Obrion. That means we must change some things that exist today, but with every challenge comes opportunities, and in this great nation we face many opportunities. I need your leadership skills and experience, but Guardians also need to find their new place. We will find it together.”
“Pretty speech,” High Lord Feichin said insincerely, “but a queen needs more than words and we need more assurance than your word about how we’ll all participate in Obrion’s future.”
“Do you doubt I understand how to represent the high houses?” she challenged.
“Of course not,” Lady Islay piped in. She gave Shona an encouraging smile, “You are one of us, dear Shona, and you risked everything to help preserve our nation.”
“But the question of where the Guardians will fit into Obrion’s future is a valid one,” General Rory said.
That surprised Connor. Rory and Shona got along well. Connor still felt amazed to think of Shona as his queen. She’d plotted all her life to gain power, but it wasn’t until she chose to risk everything for a greater good that she’d learned that the real secret to gaining power lay in working for the betterment of her people. He had considered many possible monarchs in recent months, but couldn’t think of one who might be a better fit.
He glanced at Verena and she whispered, “We knew today would be interesting.”
Shona spoke again, interrupting an argument between Lady Islay and Lord Eoghan. “Please. I concede that the point is valid and must be addressed, and I can assure you Guardians will fully participate in Obrion’s future. We need you and must work together to forge a place for you worthy of the great honor you deserve.”
“How?” High Lord Feichin demanded, looking annoyed that he was left asking such a bland question.
Shona grinned, her smile dazzling, her teeth glowing softly. “Because I propose to share rule with a Guardian who will
join me as king and joint ruler of Obrion.”
A gasp rippled through the crowd as she turned, extending a hand. Connor gaped, feeling suddenly frozen with dread. Had he been wrong about Shona all along? Was she reverting to her previous manipulating ways? As her gaze slid to his, he felt rising panic.
Would she really try to leverage the moment to secure him to her again? Had her change of heart been a lie?
Beside him, Verena stiffened, her hand sliding toward her purse.
Connor met Shona’s gaze, trying to figure out how to respond, how to deny her without starting a civil war that might cost the lives of thousands.
Shona winked at him.
Not what he expected. Both he and Verena froze, and he read a hint of amusement in Shona’s expression before she continued turning. Her gaze slid away from Connor, and her extended hand stopped, pointing at someone else.
Ivor.
“General Ivor, we have worked together to free Obrion and the Guardians. Will you join me now as my husband and joint ruler of Obrion in the great work of our lives, and help me rebuild our nation?”
“Ivor?” Verena whispered, relaxing and smiling. She looked immensely pleased by the idea, and Connor wanted to laugh aloud. Relief swept through him, making him feel weak. Shona hadn’t been lying, hadn’t tried manipulating him again. The many little signs of a deepening bond between Ivor and Shona flashed through his mind, and he marveled that he hadn’t seen such an outcome ahead of time.
Ivor laughed, his strong voice echoing around the room. He was taking the proposal extremely well. Had they planned the surprise in advance? He stepped forward to take Shona’s proffered hand, bowed over it, and said, “My queen. I accept.”
Then he turned to the startled assembly. “And together we will lead Obrion into the future!”
Shona grinned as Ivor kissed her lightly on one cheek, which colored with the perfect hint of rosy blush. Alone, Shona was one of the most cunning and dangerously capable women Connor had ever known. United with Ivor, they would be unstoppable.
Lord Eoghan didn’t seem to know how to respond to the surprising turn of events. General Wolfram looked thoughtfully pleased, Fyodor seemed content, and the Guardians were grinning. They knew Shona as one of the revolutionary leaders, and they trusted Ivor completely.
High Lord Feichin couldn’t admit defeat so easily. He exclaimed, “Ivor? One of the men who tried to kill my Rosslyn?”
“The man who spared her life when he could have let her die,” Ailsa corrected.
“The man who helped break centuries of bondage and spread the truth about patronage,” Rory added.
“And he would have soon taken my place as a high lord if my poor Alyth hadn’t been destroyed,” the aged Lady Islay said. Ivor crossed to her and enveloped her in his arms. It was a touching scene, and no one spoke for a moment as they shared that common grief.
Not a single voice dared raise another objection after that. Connor scanned the crowds and could read that many of the nobles felt disappointed their faction hadn’t won, but didn’t know how to object without looking petty or foolish.
Ailsa spoke loudly into the hush. “Very well, I present High Lady Shona and General Ivor together as our choice for new monarchs of Obrion. Is there any who wish to object with a valid counter-proposal to this choice? Speak now, or be bound by our action.”
High Lord Feichin’s mouth opened silently a couple of times. General Rosslyn looked happy, and Lord Eoghan started chuckling to himself, as if recognizing he’d been smartly outmaneuvered. His wife didn’t look pleased, but neither did she object.
Ailsa waited twenty eternal seconds before gesturing. The staff came down with a booming sound of finality.
Connor couldn’t help laughing as the room broke into cheering, and he joined in enthusiastically. Verena clapped too, but sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked.
“Nothing. They’re the perfect choice. It’s just . . . the thought of Shona becoming queen . . . it somehow feels . . .”
“Like she’s getting exactly what she deserves?” Connor teased.
Verena smiled. “Something like that.”
“So much better than it could have gone.”
She blew out a breath, smiled, and took his hand. “Absolutely.”
“Well, at least you’ve gotten to duel the future queen of Obrion dozens of times.”
Verena’s smile widened. “And I’ve kicked her butt as often as she’s kicked mine.”
With her good humor restored, they joined the throng pressing in around Ivor and Shona to congratulate them on their betrothal and impending coronation.
72
New Beginnings
Connor paced the small waiting room, so full of nervous energy he couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in one of the plush chairs arranged along one wall. His highly polished boots clicked on the expensive marble tiles, and he fidgeted in his fine new suit. His dark gray jacket with gold trim was tailored in the latest fashion, but it still felt hot and stuffy. Windows set high in the wall let in columns of golden light, which reflected from the three full-length mirrors.
Hamish and Kilian waited with him, with matching jackets, although Kilian had loosened his collar and managed to wear his jacket with a casual flair. Hamish beckoned from his cushioned chair. He’d picked up a small stain on one lapel. Looked like strawberry.
“Have a smashpacked dessert. I’ve got an entire tray of sweetbreads smashed into this cube,” he extended the light brown cube. “It’ll settle your stomach.”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” Connor told him, then rubbed his hands across his face. He really was nervous if he’d just refused that.
“What’s got you so worked up?” Hamish asked.
Connor sighed and dropped into a chair beside him. “Everyone’s going to be watching. I don’t know how to act like a nobleman.”
“You are the hero of Lossit valley,” Hamish said seriously.
“That’s not helping,” Connor said, taking the smashpacked cube when Hamish proffered it again.
Kilian crossed to them and Hamish tossed him a smashpacked custard pie. Connor still wasn’t sure how Hamish kept that one from leaking, but it never did. “Relax. There’s really nothing to worry about,” Kilian said around the mouthful.
“Besides, no one will actually see us. They’ll be looking at the ladies,” Hamish said.
That was probably true, and Connor tried relaxing, but it was such a big day, he couldn’t quite manage it. “How are you not already overdosed from sugar?”
Hamish shrugged. “I’m not actually nervous. I don’t care what people think, as long as they don’t get in my way. I’ve convinced the most amazing girl in the world to marry me. What have I got to be nervous about?”
Jean was a fantastic catch, and as much as Connor loved Hamish, some days he wondered how Hamish had won Jean’s heart. He couldn’t imagine anyone better for her, though. He tried focusing on the wonder of his own betrothed. Verena was a high Grandurian lady, a celebrated Builder and a heroine of the recent war. She could easily get hundreds of eligible suitors lining up to her door if she wanted.
In the last few whirlwind weeks, she could have come to her senses and broken off the engagement, but she only seemed more eager for the wedding with each passing day. His nerves faded as he focused on the incredible miracle of her love.
The heavy oak door opened and Verena’s older brother, Vincenz, stepped through. Wearing the dress uniform of the king’s guard, he grinned and said, “Come on. It’s time.”
Connor rose with Hamish and fell in with Kilian, flanking him. Connor’s nerves returned in a rush. He reminded himself to breathe as they walked together down a short connecting hallway and through a wide, arched doorway into the royal banquet hall of the king’s palace in Edderitz.
The enormous space, with an incredibly high, vaulted ceiling, was packed with thousands of people. The walls, support columns, and every row of benches were festooned wi
th garlands and flowers, designed by Anika herself. Filled with so many people, all dressed in bright, festive colors, the room was like an out-of-control garden.
The three of them marched up the long, central aisle, and suddenly his nerves faded away. He recognized so many of the people in attendance, and they were all grinning. These were his friends and family, all gathered for the big day.
Most of the town of Alasdair were squeezed into a few rows halfway down the room, across the aisle from scores of friends from New Schwinkendorf and Faulenrost. He grinned to see his and Hamish’s families at the front of the Alasdair contingent. His father lifted a hand in salute, and his mother was already crying. Ailsa stood beside her, well stocked with handkerchiefs, already proffering one.
In the front rows, way up at the far end of the hall waited King Ivor and Queen Shona, both resplendent in royal finery. In the few brief weeks since their coronation, they’d solidified their positions and won the hearts and minds of their subjects.
Verena, Jean, and Aifric waited on a raised dais at the front of the long hall, and Connor’s heart nearly burst with joy when he spotted Verena. The three women all wore matching gowns of dark blue velvet, but with different trim, and different colored flowers woven into their hair. Verena’s gown was trimmed in gold, and her black hair was hung with rows of white flowers, including roses, snowdrops, and lilies. Connor didn’t know the names of the rest, but the effect was dazzling. For the finishing touch, she also wore a delicate, silver tiara set with power stones. Her smile was like a beam of light directly into his mind, and he had to fight the urge to simply rush to her side.
Jean’s blue gown was trimmed in silver, and her thick, golden hair was woven with blue morning glories, irises, and a host of other blue flowers Connor couldn’t remember. At her throat, she wore an intricately carved sandstone pendant, shaped like a pair of hands cupped around a flame of fire. Ailsa had gifted her the sculpted stone the day before, and Connor couldn’t imagine anyone who could accomplish more good with it.
