by R. K. Thorne
The way Samul’s expression darkened and his fists clenched chilled her.
“I’m gathering Aven didn’t mention that part of our journey.”
“No. Apparently, he skipped over that little detail. I suppose it was implied.”
“It’s Daes, the Dark Master, in control of everything anyway. He plays like he is listening to the king, but he seems to be holding all the puppet strings. He uses the mages as valuable capital for trade.”
“You honor Aven more and more, my dear.”
She blinked. “I don’t follow, my lord.”
“He argued quite fiercely on your behalf, the value of your knowledge about Kavanar. I didn’t give him enough credit. Rather… harsh words were said.”
“I gathered that,” she said before she froze, realizing what she gave away. Her stomach dropped.
But Samul smiled, an eyebrow raised. “He came to see you, didn’t he.”
She looked down into the fire, then back up, her eyes revealing everything.
Samul snorted. “Boy is as rash as he is noble.”
“He’s no boy,” she said quietly.
He stilled, looking at her more deeply, it seemed.
“I know you love him, I see that now,” Samul said slowly. “But I also see your hesitation. You’re a hard one to read, and so the fact that I can see some fear in you is telling. It certainly didn’t ease my suspicions. I didn’t expect either of you to so forcefully object, honestly. I thought the time apart might help your mind… settle some things.”
“Like what?” she said coldly, more exposed than she’d like at the moment. A fierce desire to stay by Aven’s side, to rule with him, had kindled within her. She didn’t like to focus on the fear and doubt that lingered, not after she’d promised him she was certain, that of course she wanted to always be by his side.
“You want the man, but you’re not sure about the throne that comes with him.”
She gaped at him. Hmm. Apparently Samul could be almost painfully frank too. It must run in the family. Her turn. “I don’t not want it. I just… don’t want to disappoint him in it. And I’m not sure I’m cut out for the role. Look at Renala. One glance at her shouts her nobility. No one would be surprised to find out she was a queen. Me they’d probably mistake for a royal guard. If I’m lucky. A stable hand, more likely. And Elise. They are all so amiable and elegant and diplomatic and…”
“And what?”
“And I am not.”
Samul shrugged. “Aven has more skill at diplomacy than ten men need. He doesn’t need any of that.”
She leaned forward, setting down the empty cup. “I’ve spent my life doing three things, my lord. Healing horses, learning magic, and not being seen. I don’t think any of those have given me any helpful qualities for the role of queen.”
“Aven seems to disagree. You know, many who have held the throne have thought themselves unsuitable for it at times. I know I have.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to see our flaws than our strengths. You worry if you are suitable. If you are good enough. Well, so do I. Since it hasn’t gone away with age, I have decided that it’s a desirable attribute in a ruler. It keeps me trying to be better. I keep wondering when they will realize that I’m just another man, just like any of them, and that there’s nothing special or ‘kingly’ about me. I have wondered for years when they will realize it’s only luck and chance that made me a king and not a shepherd.”
She blinked. The fire cracked as a log popped and embers flitted into the early morning sky. If he didn’t rest soon, they would talk all their time away. Perhaps he was concerned what dreams awaited him as well.
“I keep wondering when they will throw me out for someone who won’t make so many mistakes,” he said.
She ducked her head, not wanting him to see the emotion on her face.
“You may never feel you are good enough. I certainly don’t feel like I am much of the time. That does not, however, mean that the idea is true.”
She searched his face for judgment, some hint of his own estimation of her for the role, but found nothing. “You should rest,” she said softly. “Before morning comes.”
“You’re right. Let’s see what can be done.”
They switched places, and she quietly made herself another cup of the tea, hoping it would give her the energy that sleep hadn’t. She rubbed a palm over her face as he settled in. That man. You wouldn’t really know he was a king, if not for the weight of the world creasing his brow. She struggled to digest what he’d said.
She had never felt good enough when the Masters gave her missions. Yet she’d always found a way. Daes had always been gleefully, defiantly confident in her abilities. And he’d been right, she grudgingly admitted. She’d always achieved her goals, some of them more easily than she could have ever expected. To this day, most of the tasks she’d already completed still sounded daunting, if not impossible. The only thing that had ever come naturally to her had been tending horses, and how much of that was she doing these days?
Speaking of which, she wandered over to Lukor to check on him. He had roused and was happily chomping on some nearby foliage. She ran her fingers over his pale mane and thought of her father, of Luha, of Kres. She’d probably never see Kres again, never get him out of that awful place. She sighed. She doubted she’d even free her family at this rate, unless they split Mage Hall clean open with a full-frontal assault and leveled the place.
Such an attack sounded like an idea almost as crazy and impossible as kidnapping an Akarian prince or stealing from King Demikin. Both things she had done if not with ease, then nearly so. Perhaps things were not so impossible as they seemed. Or impossible things could sometimes surprise you. Maybe Samul was right. Was it her fear speaking, rather than logic or knowledge?
Did she know she’d make a bad queen, or did she simply fear she might? But even as she asked the question, she knew—it was impossible to be certain until it happened. Samul was right. But… there was one more thing.
“My lord, are you awake?”
“Yes. What is it?” He didn’t turn, simply speaking into the darkness, his back to her and the firelight.
“Do you really think they would accept me? A foreigner, a commoner, a… woman not very skilled in the courtly arts of dresses and meals and subtle turns of phrase? Tending horses and concealing myself from enemies did not require these sorts of skills.”
He twisted to his back to study her face now. “My concerns have rested primarily with your magic and your loyalty. The former remains, but how the Assembly votes on Aven should illuminate that point. But otherwise, skills can be learned.”
Miara hesitated, wondering if he really understood.
“Also, expert advisors can be sought. Or did you think I handle every decision of the realm all alone? Ha, far from it.” He grinned.
“Queens get attention,” she said softly. “I am very skilled at evading people’s attention.”
“You did just fine with that demonstration of magic.”
“I had a willing attention magnet in Derk.”
Samul laughed. “And you think Aven is less of one?”
She snorted. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I think you’ll be fine.” He turned his back to the fire again.
Miara tapped her chin. Interesting. Very interesting. Some part of her heart had relaxed, quieted at those words. “I’m sorry. Get some rest. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
“Any sign of it?” Jaena and Ro had been searching for the inn for about an hour. Anonil’s narrow streets wound in twisted, odd patterns, doubling back on each other. Was the city that large, or were they just getting repeatedly lost?
Ro shook his head. “Not down there. Have we been here before?”
“I thought the same thing.” She scanned again to make sure she hadn’t missed a sign bearing an apple and arrow. They huddled in a side street, and not for the first time, she felt a little lik
e someone was watching her, someone who had noticed that they were looking for something or were having trouble finding their destination. Or at the very least, noticing that they were from out of town. She had traveled enough to know that made them a target, but so did asking for the location from random passersby. They’d tried to play the part of natives as well as they could, but if they had truly doubled back, they might need to break down and just ask someone soon.
“Let’s try to go to the town’s farthest edge and work back from there. Maybe it will help us figure out if we’re going in circles.”
He nodded crisply. He strode on one side of Yada, leading her by the reins, while Jaena strode on the other. Each watched the side streets for signs of the inn Miara had mentioned.
As they reached the far town wall, they finally found the inn. Practically leaning into the wall itself, the whitewashed exterior had cheery weavings of colorful fall leaves in the window boxes and hung on the front door.
“I’ll look inside for a contact and get us a room if I can. You look for a stable,” she said.
“No, I’m staying with you.” He looped Yada’s reins around a nearby post. She shrugged and let him follow. He was probably right.
They stepped inside, and the pleasant heat of the tavern hit her. She searched the room, wondering—what was she even looking for? How was she going to find it? She took a deep breath.
To her left, an innkeeper yelled out something in a language she didn’t understand, looking hopeful. Jaena stepped away to her right, pretending not to notice him.
Ro squeezed her shoulder, then stalked toward the man, tossing words back in the same language. Good. If he could get them a room, she could focus on finding their contact. Perhaps he’d even get them a better price, chattering away as they were. She leaned against the wall and studied the patrons of the tavern that took up the lower floor of the inn.
As she watched, several of them met her eye warily. Too warily. It made her uneasy. A man in a gray vest, a woman in brown robes. A red-haired, bearded man sat by the fire. All seemed to be watching around them rather too intently.
A man wearing a midnight-blue tabard got up and approached. “Are you looking for someone, my lady?”
“Perhaps.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Why do you want to know?”
Words from Ro’s argument with the innkeeper drifted toward her, Farsai being among them. Oh, by the seven hells, she was not from Farsa.
“Come from Kavanar, perhaps?” The man in the midnight tabard caught her attention once again. Now that he was closer, she could see the faint embroidery of a bear, sword, and shield in the same dark navy color—the royal Akarian symbols. “My lord and his… friend, a Lady Miara, sent me to be on the lookout for friends arriving.”
His lord? Was Miara with an Akarian noble? How had she ended up there? Still, a wave of relief washed over her. “Indeed, that is who I seek.” She hated to admit it so blatantly without thinking over ten different ways this could be a trap, but she had no other way. Miara had given her no secret sign or symbol.
He nodded. “You just missed them; my lord left here but an hour ago.”
She cocked her head. Were they talking about the same thing? Now she felt less sure.
“My orders are to send word. Your room at the inn is covered. Refresh yourself while I catch up with them and request further orders. Our original orders were to leave for Estun immediately, but they have left Estun and apparently had some… troubles along the way. We may wish to ride south.” The way the man’s face darkened twisted the knots in her stomach. What could he mean by all that? But it seemed a fair enough plan.
“My companion can join me, I assume?” She waved with a relieved smile at where Ro was still chatting with the innkeeper. Both looked almost nostalgic, as if their minds had drifted elsewhere.
“Of course. Shev, show them to a room, on my coin, please.”
Tharomar blinked, eyebrows raised in surprise, and the innkeeper—Shev—froze a moment before he processed the response. Then he nodded and hurried to snap up a set of keys. The blacksmith followed the innkeeper toward the stairs, Shev continuing to enthuse over something as they climbed.
The man showed them to a room, all smiles and bows, and then handed them their own key. Must be a fine inn to have locks and keys. She had come to expect them in her travels with her father, but most inns did not have any way to secure their rooms. Her father had traveled with several armed soldiers, although obviously not enough. They hadn’t been able to withstand the Devoted when they had come. As the innkeeper sauntered away humming, Ro shook his head, smiling.
“What was that all about?” Jaena asked.
“Our dear innkeeper is missing the warmer winters of Farsa just about now. Heard we were foreign ‘merchants’ and hoped we’d come from there with some sugared violets or vanilla from the southern kingdoms.”
She snorted. They were all foreigners here, weren’t they? Because they weren’t in Hepan or Kavanar or even Farsa anymore. Her heart gave a little jump. They had made it to Akaria. One small victory. They had made it this far. “He probably couldn’t afford such things even if we had them.”
“A man can dream.”
“Think he’d be interested in any Kavanarian iron?” Six of his smaller pieces had fit into her knapsack along with the brand.
“You’re the merchant. I warmed him up for you.”
At that, she couldn’t suppress a smile. “Guess we should stable the horse before we settle in here?”
He nodded. “Did you find the right person?”
“I didn’t have any sign or symbol to go on. I guess knowing this inn was where I should go should have been enough of a sign. He approached me. I hope he really is who he says he is. He said that my… friends were just here an hour ago. He left to pass word to them.”
He frowned, thoughtful. “Well, not much other option. Keep your guard up.”
“As always.”
They headed downstairs. She glanced at the room. The red-bearded man by the fire was gone. But then again, he could simply have been finished with his meal or ale or whatever he’d been doing there. It was a tavern, after all.
And yet…
“What is it?” he said as he unhooked Yada’s reins.
“One man from the tavern is gone now. It might be nothing, but…”
“But our ‘friends’ from last evening headed this direction when last we saw them.”
She nodded, scanning the area around them again. “Exactly.”
“Let’s go.” She didn’t know when he had ascertained the location of the stable, or if he even had. They looped back and to the left, around the outside town wall that was also the back wall of the inn. A massive stable waited. They led Yada inside, ears perked, watching.
Once inside, Ro moved more quickly, guiding Yada into the stable swiftly as he pointed at a nearby ladder. She headed for it, going up into a loft where bales of hay waited to be eaten by equine guests.
A window let in light off to her right and looked out over the inn’s roof, down a long street that cut nearly straight through Anonil. She could see all the way to the far wall and the southern gate. Damn, if only they’d tried this road or the southern gate first, she thought numbly. There was no time for that, though, because something much worse approached.
Six Devoted, marching neatly in three rows of two men, crossbows on their backs and headed their way.
As she just stared, trying to think of what to do, Ro joined her. She pointed, and he swore.
“Gods… They’re coming—you have to go.”
“What are you talking about?
“Follow that man. I’ll stay here to delay them.”
“Not a chance.” But even as she watched, more Devoted poured from the building these ones had left. Four black hoods. No, six. Now ten. Gods. She and Ro had a few moments to debate, as the Devoted were still several streets away, but it wouldn’t be long before the knights were upon them.
He
swore again. “I bet that damn innkeeper ran and got them as soon as he left us. You have to get the brand out of here.”
“No—I can’t leave you to them.”
“Yes, you can. They’re not looking for me, remember? The most important thing is that they don’t retake the brand. Clearly someone told them we’re here. You’ve got to get it out of here. And they might know your face, with that drawing going around, but mine is less likely.”
“But—”
“You also know the ones who freed you. I don’t. I’ll fight them. Get it to your friends. You’ve got to do this, Jaena.”
“I can’t leave you—”
“Come on, let’s go.” He put a hand on her arm, gentle but firm, urging her toward the ladder with him. She relented and followed him down the ladder. “You’ve got to get the brand to someone powerful enough to stand up to them, and that’s not me. Besides, I’m more equipped to fight them. And I’m uninjured.”
“That— No. That doesn’t mean you should take on a suicide mission, we could both run—” Gods, not again. The intensity of the panic and emotion that swept through her shocked her.
“Yada can’t do two of us again, not after all this, not with any speed. She might be able to manage you.” He was getting Yada back out of the stable, the streak of white in his hair picking up more than its share of the dim stable’s light. Calm, gentle, hardworking hands patted Yada’s neck, comforting the mare even as the horse sensed their unease.
Gods, if she never saw him again… She thought of the moments close to him when he’d discovered she was a mage, the way he had looked longingly at her lips in the morning light, the way his fingers had lingered for just a moment when he’d helped her onto the horse.
“Come on, you need to go.” He held out his hands to help her into the saddle.
Instead, she grabbed onto him, pulling him closer to her.
“I’ll follow,” he whispered, his lips inches from hers. His eyes said he knew he couldn’t, but she didn’t blame him for saying so. Perhaps he could outsmart them, though, or hide. Whatever he did, it would delay them and buy her time.
