The Fate of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Ursula wasn’t fooled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I laughed without humor. “I couldn’t begin to answer that question, even if I wanted to. There is too much to see, I can’t sort it all—certainly not how my revealing events will then affect things.”

  “What do you mean by ‘too much to see’?”

  She’d phrased that question carefully, so I’d try to answer. I stretched, contemplating how to explain the arcane subject to my very pragmatic sister. “Think of this moment. You chose to ask me that question. For simplicity’s sake, let’s say you had two choices: ask or not.”

  “Actually I was thinking of several questions I could ask, since there were multiple parts to what you said.”

  “Of course you were, so that immediately complicates things. Imagine a possible future for each potential question you considered asking. Then the possible futures divide again, depending on how I answered each one, and then how our conversation went from there, and how we each decided to act on the information we exchanged. And that’s just two people in a single conversation. With something huge like this conflict, there are tremendous numbers of people involved—here, in Dasnaria, within the Temple of Deyrr, other parts of the world—and ramifications that ripple out to affect even more. With Deyrr using animals and dabbling in death magic, the balance of nature itself alters across the world. We half-joke about the goddesses becoming involved, but Deyrr is at least a demigod, so maybe they are. We’re facing a truly all-encompassing conflict.”

  She was quiet, thinking. “That sounds nearly impossible to sort.”

  “If not absolutely impossible,” I agreed.

  “It’s exhausting just hearing about it.”

  “It’s not that bad. The pregnancy and reinforcing the barrier can be draining, as are some of the sorcerous techniques I’ve been using for combat. Looking into the future so much… it’s a draining enterprise, yes, but mostly because…” Because it was so depressing. But I didn’t want to say that.

  Ursula turned, drawing up one knee and facing me, expression solemn. “Then stop doing it, Andi.”

  I opened my mouth and she cut me off by raising her hand in an imperious gesture. “It’s not worth your sanity. Don’t do what our mother did. The future will come as it will, regardless.”

  “We need good information, to make the right decisions.”

  “Then we’ll get good information, the traditional way mossbacks do—with spies and subterfuge.” A brief grin lit her face before she sobered again. “I’m serious. Don’t force me to make it a command from your High Queen.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, absurdly touched. “As if you could enforce it.”

  She narrowed her eyes threateningly, not entirely being playful. “Try me.”

  “Essla.” I sighed, a surprising surge of affection for her rolling through me. “Even you cannot command a goddess. Moranu sends me visions of the future whether I want them or not.”

  “So much for pretending you half-joke about the goddesses being involved.” She studied me through those narrow gray eyes. “You’re splitting hairs and I’m not fooled. Receiving visions from the goddess isn’t the same as intensively tracking all those ripples.”

  “No, but some paths are like flooding rivers. They sweep me up and drag my attention along whether I will it or no. Whether I want to see or not.”

  Studying my face, she assessed the truth of that, then blew out her breath in a puff of resignation. “So, it’s bad.”

  “Yes.” I searched for something to add, but what more was there to say? Knowing the particulars wouldn’t help her. That much I’d seen. I wished I could say something optimistic, promise that we’d triumph, but I couldn’t lie.

  “Do you remember?” she said slowly. “Back before you met Rayfe in the Wildlands, when you still lived at Ordnung. One day, after Ami married Hugh, we were talking, and you told me that my reign would be extraordinary.”

  “I remember talking about it, but not using that exact word.”

  “That’s the word you used. ‘Extraordinary.’ I remember it like yesterday, because it’s stuck in my mind ever since.” She made a soft snorting sound. “Such a mixed blessing. Like ‘may you live in interesting times,’ which is more curse than anything else. I also remember that moment because it was the first time I clearly saw Salena in you. There was magic in your eyes as you said it, and I knew your words would come true.”

  A shiver ran over my skin, despite the warmth of the sun. “And they have,” I said lightly. “Already you’ve been an extraordinary queen.”

  She gave me a look of cool disbelief. “Kissing up to me—you? Don’t bother. We both know that nothing about my thus far brief reign has been all that noteworthy, aside from a little patricide to gain the throne and that’s been done so often it’s practically cliché.”

  “You did expand the twelve kingdoms our father brought together into an empire that includes Annfwn, most of the Nahanaun Archipelago and the goddesses know what else.”

  “In truth, you did that. It’s the Tala magic fueling the barrier that defines those boundaries, not anything I did.”

  “You guided the extent of the barrier.”

  “You’re still quibbling over fine lines. No, whatever will happen that made you call my reign extraordinary, it’s still coming.”

  I couldn’t reply to that because she was, of course, absolutely correct.

  “When that bitch of a high priestess nearly killed me,” she continued in a reflective tone, “even as I lay there, bleeding out, feeling my life force ebb away, I wasn’t concerned. I hadn’t done anything extraordinary yet, so I knew it wasn’t my time.”

  She hadn’t told me that before. “Was it a comfort?”

  “Good question. I don’t know. It just… was.” Her brows drew together. “No, I take that back. I was relieved, because Harlan was begging me to hold on, to stay with him, and I knew I would. I wanted to be able to tell him that, to reassure him, but I had no breath to talk, so that was frustrating.” She huffed out a dry laugh at herself. “In some ways, I’m still convincing him I’m alive and kicking.”

  How would I feel if that happened to me—and what would Rayfe do? If only I didn’t feel this deep uncertainty about his love for me. He’d mourn my death, I had no doubt of that. And he’d certainly fight to save me. His anguish, though, would be rooted in what my death would mean to Annfwn, his true love. Which should be enough for me, and somehow wasn’t anymore.

  With so much facing us, the degree and depth of my husband’s love for me should feel incidental, far down on the list of things to worry about. Not so critically important. I needed to find a way to let it go.

  “I’m convinced that Salena saw all of this coming,” I told Ursula. “This conflict with Deyrr and Dasnaria. Everything she did: leaving Annfwn, marrying Uorsin, bearing him three daughters—you, Ami, me, with the different abilities we have, each with our connection to one of the three goddesses—I think she planned to have us in place to fight this war.”

  Ursula raised her brows. “Not to save Annfwn?”

  “Annfwn is a small piece of a much greater world, and this conflict has been building for centuries, since before Annfwn existed.”

  “Between n’Andana and Deyrr.”

  “Yes. I suppose that is a comfort, in a way. I don’t think we could have done anything differently—nothing major enough—that we wouldn’t have all assembled more or less in this place, at this point in time.”

  “So, you believe fate controls our lives.” She didn’t frame it as a question.

  “I suppose I do. Now. I never did before, but…” I shrugged in the face of overwhelming evidence.

  She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Comforting, and… not.”

  “True. But you can at least enjoy your happy marriage with a clear conscience.” I elbowed her with a little grin.

  Ursula didn’t smile back, though. “You know that I didn’t want you to marry Rayfe.”

 
; That caught me by surprise, a painful prodding of the fresh wound. “The fact that you waged a war to stop it gave me a hint, yes.”

  “From what you say, nothing I tried could’ve stopped it.”

  “I think that’s probably the case.” I’d been fated to marry Rayfe, not just from the moment of my mother’s bargain with Uorsin, or the betrothal at my birth, but by centuries of events aligning to force us together. Who could expect anything like a loving marriage under circumstances like that? My mistake clearly lay in my expectations.

  “I’m going to offer you another memory,” Ursula turned to look out at the sea, the water turning gold now as Glorianna took over the light. No longer Danu’s bright day, sharp and clear, free of gray areas, but the gloaming. The time between the sharp lines of the goddess of unflinching justice and Moranu’s night, filled with shadows and blurred lines. “The night before we attacked Ordnung, and I killed Uorsin, you—”

  “We killed Uorsin,” I corrected. “Your hand held the blade, but Ami and I share the blood on our hands.”

  She inclined her head, not arguing, but not agreeing either. “You told me that I look for everyone to betray me, to leave me, to fail to love me.”

  I winced. “That was harsh of me.”

  “No, it was honest.” She glanced at me with a wry smile. “Another moment etched in my mind. And I feel I should point out to you that you come from the same place I did. That this is your burden, too.”

  I gaped at her, struggled to wrap my mind around that.

  “You also said, ‘nothing will stop any of us from being at your side tomorrow, no matter how you might attempt to shield us or push us away. Try to keep in mind that we’re all on your side. There is an enemy and it’s not any of the people here tonight.’” She dipped her chin at me meaningfully. “That’s a direct quote. I’ve been waiting a long time to throw those words back in your face.”

  “Consider them thrown,” I replied faintly.

  “Good. Then we’d better go meet, so we can all be on the same page, as well as the same side.” She uncoiled to her feet—her liquid grace something I now recognized as coming from her Tala heritage, though Ursula couldn’t shapeshift—and held down a hand to me. I took it, her skin tough and sword-callused against mine. She didn’t let go immediately, steadying me, giving me an intent look. “As for Rayfe, I’m the last person to be giving relationship advice—”

  “Thank Moranu, because I can’t take any more.”

  “But I will tell you what you told me.”

  “Please no.”

  She grimaced a little, half that wry smile. “Have a little pity on those of us who love you—it’s not always easy.”

  “Ha ha.” I should push her off the rocks and enjoy watching her thrash in the surf. “I happen to be eminently lovable. You’re the hard ass.”

  Unexpectedly she grinned. “Fair enough. I assume you summoned Ami?”

  “Are you the sorceress now, that you guessed that?”

  Her smiled faded. “No. We just all have to be together, don’t we? For the end.”

  I didn’t say so, but she wasn’t wrong.

  ~ 6 ~

  Ursula and I entered the council chambers together, the conversation around the big table dropping to a mutter drowned by the scraping of chairs as everyone—most everyone—stood and bowed. Rayfe, in one of the three big chairs at the end, naturally wouldn’t bow to Ursula and she fortunately had never pressed the issue. Zynda and Zyr, Tala to the bone and thus irreverent to the core, remained as they were, both nodding to me with twin expressions of amusement—though Zyr’s turned to a wince when his consort, Karyn, pinched him, whispering at him to show respect.

  “You can relax.”

  “At ease.”

  Ursula and I spoke at the same time, then exchanged wry smiles. “By all mean, Your Majesty, High Queen Ursula,” I said, trying very hard to sound sincere. “The floor is yours.”

  “Oh no, Queen Andromeda and King Rayfe of the Tala,” she replied in a coolly ironic tone, “the High Throne is happy to yield to local authority.” To demonstrate, she went to the long side of the table to sit by Harlan. Marskal immediately yielded his chair, saluting her in the Hawks’ style before bowing and moving to a seat on the other side of Zynda. Harlan held Ursula’s chair for her, smiling briefly at something she said.

  I managed not to roll my eyes at Ursula as I walked around the large table to the far end, conscious of everyone’s eyes on me. Rayfe rose then, rather pointedly, and pulled back the heavy chair for me. His blue eyes caught and held mine, reading my mood.

  “Everything good?” he asked mentally, or rather, a question to that effect, face betraying nothing. Not all Tala could speak mind-to-mind, but he and I had worked diligently to develop the skill as far as we could. We found it particularly useful during meetings with the Tala High Council, so we could work as a team to pacify and outflank our more restive councilors. We had to keep the messages simple, and we did best in close proximity if we wanted to convey more than a feeling, but the trick gave us a decided advantage.

  Now I wondered how much of my doubts and unhappiness he sensed when he touched my mind. The wariness in his gaze, the tentative brush of concern quickly withdrawn, made me think he wasn’t as oblivious to my state of mind as I’d assumed. Have a little pity on those of us who love you—it’s not always easy. I had no doubt Ursula had been right to throw those words back at me. I’d always been something of a solitary soul, happiest in my own company, or with my horse, Fiona, and Rayfe was far more of a pack animal by nature. Unfair of destiny, really, to saddle him with a moody wife who spent hours on the rocks staring at the sea.

  I shouldn’t feel so hurt and abandoned. I’d been the one to offer that we sleep separately, so it was my own cursed fault that he’d agreed. Let’s be honest: he’d jumped at the suggestion with unseemly haste. But, he was only making choices as king, doing the best for his people, which—to be perfectly fair—he’d done from the very beginning. Our match was never supposed to be more than a fulfilling of old obligations. All of it a product of Salena’s manipulations to produce a daughter with the Mark of the Tala and make her Queen of Annfwn.

  Truly, once I produced our heir—and our son bore the mark, I could feel it—then Rayfe and I need never share a bed again. We’d bred true and could be done with each other. The thought filled me with a nearly unbearable grief.

  I wanted to touch his hand on the back of my chair, but thought better of it. “I’m good.”

  He searched my face, that assessing look—perhaps looking for the initial signs of insanity, of the mad queen everyone seemed to fear I would become—then nodded, his expression as opaque as his thoughts. A hint of smoky anger and frustration wafted from him, but I couldn’t get more nuance than that. Certainly nothing I could suss out in front of an audience, all watching our silent exchange.

  “Thank you all for waiting,” I said regally, sitting and giving Rayfe the most gracious smile of thanks I could muster when he helped me ease the heavy chair closer to the table. He’d always been unfailingly respectful of me, supportive, and protective. I needed to revise my expectations and accept all the kindnesses he showed me. Mutual respect and polite attention might be all we’d have. Better than tearing out each other’s throats.

  Focusing on far more important matters than my personal grievances, I took note of those present. Ursula and Harlan were needed, as they had the most recent intelligence to transmit, and our High Queen remained our ultimate authority even if she deferred to us for the moment. Zyr and Karyn had become our experts on n’Andana and the minions of Deyrr hiding out in the old palace there, as well as commanding the mossback/shapeshifter fighting pairs. Zynda and Marskal would be leading the dragon battalion, such as it was. Hopefully we’d be strengthening that. And Marskal no doubt wanted to discuss the merging of human and Tala forces. Ursula had put Kral in charge of our navy, so he sat at the table beside Jepp, former scout and surprisingly proficient spy, given her utte
r lack of subtlety, who would be by his side on the Hákyrling.

  “Most everyone is here, but not all,” I said, since Rayfe hadn’t spoken to begin the meeting.

  “I suppose Dafne went back to Nahanau?” Rayfe asked, following along with my assessment.

  “Yes, Kiraka flew her there right after you all went to chase the sleeper infestation downcoast. She’s due any day now and King Nakoa KauPo wanted her there for the birth.”

  Rayfe huffed out a laugh. “An obedient wife. Hard to imagine.”

  He said it like it was a fine joke, though no one laughed, so I tried to take it that way. Though he should know I wouldn’t find it funny; we’d had far too many arguments over my intended course of action, as opposed to his preference, on any number of topics. Rayfe never tried to enforce my obedience—as if he’d have any luck with that—but I wondered how much those disagreements had rankled him. Did that lie at the foundation of his unhappiness with me?

  With a mental sigh, I set the thought aside—again—and continued. “The Nahanauns are particular about birthing their children on Nahanaun soil—you know how they are about that—so she returned for that reason. As soon as the baby is born, she and Nakoa will come here.” I didn’t say that their little girl would be born that very night, and they’d be here the following day. Everything looked like it would be fine, but I’d wait for the future to become the present on that. “I know she’s been in her library as much as possible, researching everything Karyn and Zyr discovered, particularly the bits the high priestess divulged about Deyrr history. Karyn, anything new you can tell us?”

  The lovely blond Dasnarian startled and flushed. “No, Your Highness. She said so many things, and I still don’t really know truth from lie.” A hint of bitterness crept into her voice at how the high priestess had clouded her mind. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses,” Karyn said, face tight with guilt.

  “Sorry for not sacrificing yourself to their god and falling into Deyrr’s plans to bring all of the Dasnarian Imperial forces under the temple’s command?” Ursula snorted. “You did well, both of you, to survive and return. Never forget it.”