by Karen Miller
She looked up, her face schooled to confidence. “It doesn’t matter. We were never going to turn tail and run back north. Let Damwin and Kyrin sit on their arses at the borders. Better there than nipping at our heels.”
Edward glared at her. “Except with one word from Marlan they’ll not be at our heels, they’ll be looking to rip out our throats . And not even you and your Zandakar can dance your knives through two ducal armies!”
“He’s not my Zandakar,” she told Edward, coldly. “Mind how you address me, Edward. Fear is no excuse for bad manners.”
Edward leapt to his feet. “ Fear? Are you calling me a coward ?”
She sighed. “Oh, sit down, Edward. Don’t be tiresome.”
“He has a point, Rhian,” said Alasdair, as Edward resumed his chair in affronted silence. “If Marlan decides interdict isn’t enough …”
“He knows already it’s not enough, but I don’t believe he’ll resort to open violence.”
“Rhian!” said Alasdair, exasperated. “He sent a venerable to kill you!”
“In secret! Which is very different from sending an army,” she retorted. “He’s trying to intimidate me with a show of force. And he hopes to turn the people’s hearts against me by interfering with their daily lives. It’s a desperate move, gentlemen. One that’s doomed to fail.”
“You hope it’s doomed,” said Rudi. “But hope never sharpened a sword, Your Majesty. You hope Marlan will leave Damwin and Kyrin stationed at their borders, and maybe he will, but even if he does—the fact remains they stand between us and the soldiers of Arbat, Morvell and Linfoi, who could be rallied to your cause if it proves they’re needed. Leaving you and Zandakar aside, all we have is our small combined escort and it’s woefully insufficient to protect us or force Kyrin’s and Damwin’s armies to stand down. Which means the people of this duchy are penned like sheep. And it won’t take long for the sheep to start complaining. You will look powerless, Your Majesty … and so will start the beginning of the end.”
Not if I can help it . She folded and refolded the wretched note. “There’s still Kingseat’s garrison. Every last man of them approved by my father and loyal to him. Loyal to my House.”
“I’m sorry,” said Alasdair. “I don’t think we can count on them. You’ve not been crowned yet and you’re a woman. These are soldiers, not scholars or lawyers. They see the world simply. Even if some of them do support you, Rhian, we can’t assume they’ll draw swords on their fellow guards.”
She tossed the note on the table before it shredded in her fingers. “You’re probably right. But as I said, it doesn’t matter . Because even if I could gather more soldiers to my banner I tell you plainly, gentlemen, I wouldn’t . I will not have a pitched battle between ducal armies. Ethrean against Ethrean? It’s unthinkable. A civil war in my name would only prove every wicked thing Marlan says to destroy me. I might as well hand him my knife and invite him to stab me himself.”
Her words made them flinch, as she intended.
Beside her, Alasdair jabbed his quill-point into the sheet of paper before him. Adric kept his gaze on the table but she could tell he was in wild disagreement. He was such a hothead. His father and Edward exchanged looks.
“Well?” she said, challenging them. “You’re my council. Counsel me. Am I wrong ?”
“No,” sighed Rudi. “Your Majesty, you’re not wrong. If we must be at war we need to ensure it’s a war of words, not swords and pikestaffs. Our best weapon is the people’s love for you and their belief that you are God’s choice for the crown.”
“What would seal this for us is another miracle,” said Adric. “Maybe two. Or three. In the right place, at the right ti—”
“No,” she said. “It’s out of the question. Mr Jones is not well enough for any more miracles.”
“He’s been resting for days now,” said Adric, undaunted. “Physicked round the clock. Surely—”
She banged her fist on the table. “Are you deaf all of a sudden, Adric? Or so lost to your duty you would argue beyond your place? Have I erred in your elevation? Are you too green to be a duke?”
“He’s only saying what the rest of us are thinking!” said Rudi, defensive. “Jones might be our only hope of—”
“And what about me?” she said. “I thought I was our hope. Mr Jones has been invaluable but I am Ethrea’s queen. If I can’t rule without a toymaker as my court fool, bursting into flames to amuse the crowds and distract them from the fact I’m a lowly inadequate woman, then clearly I don’t deserve to wear the crown!”
“That’s not what we’re saying, Your Majesty,” Edward murmured.
“Yes it is, Edward.” Rhian slumped in her chair. “And I’m saying it too. Once this is over, if the crown is still mine, it must be mine. I must have earned it. It’s not enough to be Eberg’s daughter. It’s not enough that Mr Jones bursts into flame. I have to prove I’m worthy of ruling. I have to prove I deserve to be queen. So. Tomorrow morning I’m going home to Kingseat capital and I will prove exactly that. And when I am in my castle, with my standard flying over its battlements, the soldiers and the people will know their queen is on her throne. They will know there is peace in Ethrea. They will know their world is safe once more. Then shall I entertain the ambassadors and they too will know they have nothing to fear.”
“And what about Marlan?” said Alasdair, his arms folded. “If you think he’ll meekly hand you the crown without a word of objection—”
“You don’t know he won’t!” she said. “I have faith in Helfred. He may yet find a way to persuade his uncle that the time has come to stand aside. God knows he’s persuasive. He persuaded me not to kill him any number of times!”
The look he gave her smouldered. “Letting Helfred go back to the capital was foolish and short-sighted. Either he’ll convert to his uncle’s cause or his uncle will find some way of exploiting him to harm you and I fear you are so tender you’ll throw yourself away for—”
“Gentlemen,” she said, standing. “His Majesty and I have private matters to discuss. Be so good as to withdraw. We will leave for Kingseat capital at dawn.”
The dukes filed out in silence, their faces averted. The door closed behind them.
She turned on him. “Alasdair, are you trying to destroy their confidence in me?”
“Of course not,” he said, and shoved out of his chair. “I just want you to think before—”
“Think? My God, I do nothing but think! I have so many thoughts chasing round in my head I’m in danger of losing my mind altogether!”
“Then perhaps instead of thinking you should talk!” he retorted. “Talk to me. Your husband. The man you made king.”
“Would there be any purpose? You disagree with every choice I make! We don’t have conversations, we have running arguments!” She clutched the back of her chair and watched him stamp around the room. “Nothing I do is right as far as you’re concerned. Every decision I make is wrong . I was wrong to trust Zandakar, I was wrong to learn the hotas, I was wrong to send Helfred home, I was—”
“God save me!” shouted Alasdair. “You stupid wench! Can’t you see I’m scared for you?”
“Well,” she said, unsteadily. “That was a tender declaration.”
He crossed the carpet in three swift steps, seized her arms and dragged her out from behind the table. In his eyes, behind the anger, something frantic struggled for release.
“I’m scared for you, Rhian,” he said, his voice close to breaking. “We’ve been married scant weeks. I’ve made love to you twice. You’re my wife and you won’t let me protect you. What kind of a husband doesn’t protect his wife? What kind of a king doesn’t keep his queen safe?”
“Oh, Alasdair. Tell me, truthfully. If our positions were reversed. If you were the lawful ruling king of Ethrea, and you had married me and made me your queen, and somebody tried to take your crown away. Would you let me protect you ? Would you hide behind my skirts?”
“But Rhian, that’s—”
>
“ No . It’s not different. The crown is neither male nor female, Alasdair. The crown is itself—and whoever wears it must stand alone. By blood and birthright I am Ethrea’s queen. You are king by marriage. You will always stand behind me. Accept that now, once and for all, or walk away from me… and I’ll rule alone.”
“You’d do that?” he whispered. “You’d let me go?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d have no choice.”
A harsh, heart-pounding silence. Alasdair walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “I wouldn’t let you.”
“ You’d have no choice.”
He let his head rest against the casement and stared into the darkness beyond the glass. “Do you suppose Henrik’s still alive?”
“I hope so.”
“And Helfred?”
“I can’t imagine Marlan would murder his own sister’s son.”
“And I’m afraid there’s little our good prolate wouldn’t do, now he’s had a taste of power.”
He sounded … defeated. Softly she walked to him and pressed her cheek against his back. She could feel his heart, racing too fast. “You’re forgetting something important, my love. Marlan may be the prolate but I have God on my side.”
He tensed. “Rhian—”
“Alasdair, I’m serious!” She stepped back, and tugged him round to face her. “From the beginning I’ve been sent signs, given portents. I was given Dexterity, and his miracles. I was given Zandakar, who’s twice saved my life. I have to believe God wants me to be queen.”
“Maybe God does want it,” said Alasdair. “But God doesn’t always get everything he wants. Sin exists, Rhian. Terrible crimes are committed. God can’t want that, but…” He shrugged. “Still, they happen.”
“And when I am crowned queen, and we are happy in our castle, I will devote my life to righting those wrongs. But first I must reach my castle, Alasdair, and to do that I need you. I need you to trust me. If my own husband won’t trust me, why should my kingdom?”
So gently, he kissed her. “I do. I trust you.”
She met his gaze steadily, though her belly churned. “Words are easily come by, Alasdair. I’ll believe it when you show me. Speak to me in another council meeting as you did here tonight and I’ll ban you from attending for the rest of your life. Do I make myself clear?”
For the longest time he looked at her. She was no longer able to read his eyes. They were blank, like shuttered windows. Oh God. Oh Papa . Then he kissed her again, and her own heart resumed beating.
“As you say, Your Majesty,” he said, faintly smiling. “Now shall we find some supper? Or would you rather go straight to bed?”
They were ready to leave Old Scooton just after dawn. It was an anxious Edward who came to fetch her from the dining room. He was a bluff man, but a good one. Never since pledging his loyalty had he spoken of his brother Harley, paying Marlan’s price for his support of a queen. Nor had he once treated her like a wayward child, even though he was old enough to be her father.
“All’s done, Majesty,” he said, standing in the doorway. “We can ride out at your pleasure.”
“Good, Edward. Thank you.” She looked down at herself, at her worn boy’s clothing. “I wonder if I should change into a dress?” she mused. “Marlan might fall down in a spasm if he sees me attired like a king.”
The thinnest of smiles curved Edward’s lips. “We can only hope.”
That made her laugh … and all of a sudden, she felt a lot better. I wanted this, after all. I wanted it. I fought for it. God help me, I killed for it. Am I going to shy away from it now?
“I’ll be there directly, Edward,” she told her duke. “And Edward—”
He straightened out of his bow. “Majesty?”
“Thank you. Accepting me as your sovereign hasn’t been easy, I know. But you’ve honoured the law. You’ve honoured right above ambition. Assuming I’m still queen by the end of the day, I promise I’ll not forget it.”
He cleared his throat, roughly. “This is God’s will, Your Majesty. You’re Eberg’s daughter. If your name was Robert instead of Rhian none of this would be happening. And you’ve shown us all that you’re pluck to the backbone. I follow you gladly, and so will my House.”
“Thank you, Edward. That means a great deal.”
“As for marrying Linfoi,” added Edward. “You made the right choice. I only offered Shimon because I didn’t have anyone else. Never thought you’d choose him. He’s a little boy … and a pain in the arse.”
That surprised a shout of laughter from her. “Oh, Edward! That’s outrageous!”
“I know,” he said, grinning. “But it’s true.” He sobered. “I’ll tell the king to expect you.”
The door closed behind him and she was alone. She looked around the plain panelled dining room, witness to a thousand passing travellers. It wasn’t a chapel but it would have to do. She knelt, and bowed her head.
“I don’t have Helfred to lead the Litany,” she murmured. “And believe it or not, God, it doesn’t feel right to say it without him. But if you love me, never tell him I said so.”
A warm silence settled over her, easing the tension singing through her bones.
“God, you sent Zandakar to save me and Dexterity to light my way. I have to believe that means I can be queen, that I can be a good queen, even with my myriad faults. Today I’ll face my greatest test. My greatest enemy. A man who wishes me such ill. A man who professes to speak with your voice, to interpret your wishes. He’s a liar. We both know that. Please, I beg you, let the world know it too.”
The warm silence cradled her. She felt for a moment like a little girl again, settled on her father’s lap with his strong arms around her, holding her close and safe with love.
Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Papa, I miss you. And Ranald. And Simon. How can the sun rise on a world without you in it?”
For one dark moment it seemed the resurrected loss would overwhelm her, just when she needed her bloody-minded stubbornness most. Then she felt, for an instant, lips pressed against her brow. Heard a distant voice whisper: Be strong, Rhian. Be unafraid .
“Mama?” she gasped. Lurching to her feet again, she stared around the room. It was empty. No distant voice answered. She was alone … and it was time to leave.
Stepping out to the inn’s rear courtyard, her breath was stolen by the faces waiting there. Alasdair. Edward. Rudi. Adric. Her stalwart council, a new family of a sort. Waiting with them, the miracle that was Dexterity, weak and unsteady on his feet, supported by his tart friend Ursa whose astringent advice had helped her so much.
And Zandakar. Oh, Zandakar. Her strange friend. Her unlikely saviour. The biggest mystery she’d ever met.
Behind them, the rest of her travel weary company. Soldiers and ducal retainers, plain people of Ethrea, whose simple unquestioning loyalty humbled her. What she did, she did for them.
She had no great words. A stirring speech was beyond her. All she could do was smile, her fisted hand pressed hard to her heart.
“God bless you all,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Let’s ride to Kingseat, shall we? We have unfinished business there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
By the time it reached Kingseat capital, Rhian’s royal party had become a people’s army.
The citizens of Old Scooton were the first to join. Led by three of the township’s venerables and its entire council, the men, women and children of Old Scooton abandoned their fields, their homes, their shops, the schoolroom. On foot and on horseback, on donkeys and in carts, they fell into step behind the soldier escort and ducal retainers, shouting and laughing, fierce in their love.
“Oh, Alasdair,” Rhian whispered. “Should I send them home? If even one should get hurt on my behalf …”
“Send them home?” Riding close beside her, he took her hand and held it tightly. “You’d break their hearts. They adore you, Rhian. You are their queen and they’ve made themselves your champions. You ca
n’t send them home. They are the best weapon you’ll ever have against Marlan and his lies.”
He was right. She knew it. And to prove it further, as they continued the journey from Old Scooton to Kingseat capital, more and more of duchy Kingseat’s people rushed to swell the ranks of her retinue. Venerables, chaplains, farmers, teachers, grocers, chandlers, fresh-faced mothers and grey-haired goodfathers, all lining the roads and laneways of duchy Kingseat to see her, to shout her name, to swear their allegiance to Rhian, Eberg’s daughter. As the royal progress swept by them they swept along with it, determined that Rhian would be their queen.
It seemed she’d been granted another miracle.
The shouting woke Dexterity, sleeping fitfully in the peddler’s van.
“What is it? What’s happening?” he mumbled, sitting up. “Ursa? Are we there?”
“Not yet,” she said, sitting on the bench reading a book. She turned the page. “Go back to sleep, Jones.”
“Sleep?” He scrubbed his hands across his stubbled face. “Who can sleep with that racket? And anyway, I’ve been sleeping for days.”
“And you’ll sleep for days more if I’ve anything to say on it.” She put the book down. “Did you see yourself in the mirror this morning? Death warmed over sideways, that’s what you look like.”
And what he felt like, despite Ursa’s nonstop physicking, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “I’m fine. I’m much better.”
She snorted. “You’re not dead, Jones. It’s not the same thing.”
No, it wasn’t, but if he agreed with her she’d only take that for permission to continue her aggressive care of him. He wasn’t ungrateful … but he wasn’t used to her hovering, either. Wasn’t used to the fear in her eyes. It was horribly unsettling, and he’d had enough unsettlement for now.
Pushing his blanket aside, he coaxed his feet off the sleeping-shelf and onto the floor. The din outside the van was extraordinary.
“What is that, Ursa? Who’s making that noise?”
