The Scarecrow Queen

by Melinda Salisbury

  “Well, if you can think of anyone else who knows Tallith, please, I’m all ears,” I snap.

  “Ulrin,” Stuan says quietly, not meeting my eyes. “He must have gone if he was on the progress with His Majesty. My lady, I don’t wish to contradict you, but I can’t leave you unprotected.” Hope clears her throat and Stuan colors. “Not that you would be unprotected. But still, I’d do better here, and you can send Ulrin in my place. He’s trustworthy.”

  “I’ll go with Ulrin,” Hope says.

  “No,” I say immediately. “I need you here.”

  “But you don’t need me?” Merek speaks for the first time.

  “What?” My voice rises in my confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t need me. You’re happy to send me off to Tallith, so you don’t need me here.”

  “Merek, until two days ago, I thought you were dead,” I say. “Besides, it’s not about who I need here. I’m asking the people who are best for the job to go.”

  “So if I wasn’t here, who would you send?”

  That silences me.

  “I’ll go,” Hope says again. “I know what quicksilver looks like, and I know there was a mine not two miles outside of Tallith city; it was in one of the old books. This Ulrin can come with me as my guide. Then you don’t need to trust him. I’ll tell him it’s to do with the Sisters. That’s all he needs to know. And if we go by boat, down the river, instead of through Tregellan, Gods willing, we’ll save some time and avoid too much attention.”

  “Can you sail?”

  “I can,” Nia says. “My brothers live on the estuary; they taught me. If I show Hope the ropes, we can all travel down the Aurmere together, and Kirin and I can get out at Tremayne. They can sail on to Tallith, and back, and we’ll return on foot. It’ll make things faster.”

  Merek sits back against the wall, and Hope looks at me, waiting. I don’t want to do this; I don’t want her to go away from me. It’s not that I don’t need Merek, but I need Hope more. Surely she must understand that, especially after earlier? I frown at her, trying to convey this, and she looks back at me levelly.

  “Very well.” I cave in. “You’ll all go by boat, as Nia says. Stuan, you and I will be going to get the asulfer, then.”

  “I can come with you to do that,” Merek offers.

  “No, thank you,” I say, feeling a stab of victory as he reddens. “Errin, obviously you’ll be here, working on deconstructing the Opus Magnum. Will the rest of you be ready to leave at first light?” I receive four nods in return, none of them enthusiastic. I don’t blame them; I don’t want any of these people away from me, facing the dangers they’re inevitably going to. But I don’t trust anyone else enough with these secrets. “Stuan and I will also go tomorrow, after early training. We’ll say we’re gathering herbs for Errin. We should be back by sundown, all going well. Agreed?”

  This time they all nod.

  “We’ll keep the date of our attack as two moons from now. Enough time for you to go and come back, for Errin to make the potion, and for everyone here to be as well prepared as they can be.”

  Stuan is the only one of us who looks remotely happy with the outcome of the meeting.

  * * *

  Four hours after my secret war council ends, we call everyone in the commune to the refectory for the public version of events. Momentous, because not since we first arrived here and assembled the Rising Dawn have I insisted that everyone present attend one of the war councils. I even send word to some of the watchmen, risking a reduced watch to ensure as many people as possible hear me tonight.

  Elderly Dilys and Bron from Monkham; Breena, who hates politics and shuns everything in favor of working with her hands; and even Ymilla are all here for the first time since we arrived. They file into the room in rigid silence—the same room where they gather around communal tables, passing bread and tureens of soup to one another, joshing and bickering—yet you wouldn’t know it from their stern faces. Only Ymilla, who I’d expected to be angry on hearing that Ulrin would be leaving in the morning, seems unperturbed by the summons, beaming at Merek as he passes her. He nods back at her, a puzzled expression on his face, meeting my eyes as he approaches me. I’m still angry with him, though, so I refuse to acknowledge it.

  Soon the walls around the room are lined with people who haven’t been seen since we first set up camp here. I stand at the front of the room, with Kirin, Nia, Stuan, Hope, Merek, and Errin. I wait until they’ve stopped fidgeting and fallen silent, their eyes on me. Then I begin the speech I’ve spent the afternoon working on.

  “Thank you all for coming,” I say. “These past few moons have been difficult and dangerous for us all. There is not a person gathered in this room who has not risked themselves in one way or another for this cause. Every one of you has stayed loyal to the Rising Dawn—to me—and when this is over, I’ll see to it you are repaid.”

  Beside me, Merek nods, confirming my words. And I realize too late, when I see the looks exchanged, the smiles, the frown on Ymilla’s face, what message it might send, that the two of us seem united in this, that I feel I can make a promise this large. And after the way I followed him out last night, and sat with him in the dark, I’ve clearly reignited their memories of what we once were to each other.

  I briefly lose my thread, but then I remember what Hope said. Stone without. Quake within.

  “Certain things have fallen into place that have greatly furthered our cause,” I continue, pausing until the low murmurs that follow this announcement die away. “Things will move forward quickly from now. Tomorrow our spies will go out and pass the word on to our allies in the towns to begin preparing for battle. We estimate in two moons’ time we will be ready to strike at the Sleeping Prince in the heart of his domain.” Gasps echo through the room, and I raise my voice over them. “From tomorrow, we begin preparing for that. Those of you who have been training in sword and bow, we will train twice daily from here on in.” I pause to take a breath. “Eight weeks from today, the Rising Dawn in every town will be instructed to hide the weak and the old, and to set fire to the homes of the lords and sheriffs. They will be asked to fight their captors and overthrow them.”

  I see one of the men, Linion, who left his widowed sister and her sons in Lortune when he ran for his life, prepare to speak, and I raise my voice to prevent the interruption. I know what he’s going to ask anyway; he’s never forgiven himself for leaving them behind.

  “Shortly before the rising, a team will be sent to rescue the children from the mountains and bring them here. The other children will also be liberated, in the first wave of action. Once our allies have begun to liberate the other camps, the townspeople will get the signal to rise against their captors, and then we here will go down into Lortune and engage with the Sleeping Prince. Thanks to the damage from fire at the castle, he won’t be able to hole up in there and wait us out. His only practical option will be to send out troops to deal with the risings. And as soon as his forces are dispersed, we strike.”

  The room erupts into cheers, people clapping and stamping their feet, and I feel my skin flush with pleasure, until Ymilla calls:

  “And then we can restore King Merek to the throne!”

  She beams over at Merek, who bows his head graciously as my skin heats with something closer to anger than joy. I feel a vicious stab of satisfaction when the cheers for this are less enthusiastic, and look back at the crowd.

  “So let’s enjoy our supper tonight. At dawn tomorrow, our work begins.”

  With that, I sweep from the room.

  It was my idea to leave them alone tonight. Ema has been instructed to open extra barrels of wine, not too many but enough to give everyone who wants it a treat. She’s also roasted one of the goats, cooking it in some concoction of spices that smells heavenly. Tonight they can feast and enjoy themselves, because as of tomorrow, we are on the countdown to invasion. This will be the last time for a while that they can be frivolous. For some of them, it might
be the last-ever time they are.

  So I leave them to it, planning to go to the kitchens and eat there, then have a bath and an early night to make up for the wretched sleep I had last night.

  But it seems Merek has other thoughts.

  “Twylla,” he calls, following after me.

  For a moment I keep walking, but then I stop and turn. “Yes.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Do you not want to join in the feasting?”

  “You’re not.”

  “I’m not going to be their king. You should be in there, showing them how much what they’re doing—what they’re sacrificing—for your kingdom means to you.”

  “Have I done something to wrong you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Merek sighs, a long, impatient breath. “Why did you want to send me away?”

  “I wasn’t sending you away. I told you: You know Tallith. And you can defend yourself. It made you the most practical choice.”

  “And that’s the only reason?”

  “What other reason could there be?”

  He steps closer, his eyes glinting in the torchlight.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” I turn, but he steps in front of me.

  “Twylla—”

  “Everything all right, my lady?” Stuan’s voice travels down the corridor. I turn to see him, a shadowy figure hovering under one of the arches.

  “We’re fine,” Merek calls.

  “My lady?”

  Merek looks away from me, to Stuan, and frowns, and I feel a surge of gratitude toward my former guard. Who would have thought it?

  “It’s fine, Stuan. Thank you. Go back to the feast.”

  I hear him walk away, his tread slow, reluctant.

  When I look back at Merek, he’s watching me, but his eyes are narrowed, as if I’ve confused him. “Are we still friends?” he asks finally. “I mean, if we ever were really friends.”

  “I’m your friend.”

  “And you would tell me the truth?”

  “Merek, I have no reason to lie to you.”

  He sighs as he apparently thinks over my words.

  “Good night,” I say, turning back to my room.

  “Wait. Let’s have a drink,” he says suddenly.

  I’m not sure I’ve heard him properly. “What?”

  “You and me. Let’s have a drink. To hell with it, let’s get drunk.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “Because we never have—well, you never have, have you?” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues to speak, his expression intense, reminding me of the day in the Hall of Glass, when he kissed me. “Because we’re young. Because we may be dead in two moons’ time, so we should live now. Have one night where you give in to yourself.”

  “I did that once before, if you recall,” I snap without meaning to. “It nearly lost me my head. But of course, if you want, I’ll ‘give in to myself.’ We might even end up in bed together; would that please you?”

  He turns instantly scarlet and looks away. I don’t know where the words come from. And as I look at him, floundering in shock, all of the anger I felt toward him vanishes.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Gods, Merek, I’m so sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  He looks back at me, mortified, and shakes his head. “No. No, my behavior was at fault there. I don’t know what … Please forgive me.”

  I nod. “Of course. Of course I do.”

  As soon as I’ve spoken, he makes to leave, and I call after him. “I … I would like to share a drink with you. If you still want to.”

  He nods warily.

  “I’ll get some wine and meet you in your room.” His color deepens, his skin almost crimson as he nods. Then he turns in a rush toward the men’s quarters, leaving me staring after him, feeling odd.

  * * *

  He’s composed when I enter, sitting stiffly on his bed with his legs crossed at the ankle. I smile to reassure him, and pour us both a cup of wine. He takes it, muttering a thank-you, and immediately brings it to his lips.

  I sit on the floor, a safe distance away, and sip at my own wine.

  “So,” I say, when it becomes painfully obvious he isn’t going to speak. “That was perhaps a little cruel.”

  “No, no, it was deserved. I did say you’d changed. The old Twylla would never …” he says, burying his face in his glass again. When he surfaces, his expression is serious. “I don’t like Errin,” he says. “Not in that way. I like her, very much. But not romantically.”

  I blink for a moment, stunned, unsure why he’s telling me this. “All right …” I say slowly.

  “I didn’t know if that’s why you wanted me to go away. Why you were being so … impatient with me.”

  “You thought I was jealous of Errin?”

  “No! Gods, no. I know where you stand, as far I’m concerned. I thought it might be because you were trying to protect Silas, in which case I wanted you to know I have no intentions of causing anyone any upset. I have no plans to come between another pair of lovers,” he adds quietly.

  “You didn’t come between Lief and me,” I say sharply. “We both knew I was betrothed to you. You only acted within the realms of what you believed to be true.”

  “As did you.”

  I sip my wine, shaking my head.

  “I don’t blame you.” Merek’s voice is still soft, and I meet his gaze. “I never have. You were used. By us all. Even me.”

  I return the glass to my lips, buying myself some time. “It’s all very much in the past now,” I say finally. “And if I’m honest, I’d rather deal with your mother one thousand times over than what lies ahead.”

  He raises his cup to toast me.

  “Besides,” I add, “if you’d seen them together, you’d know Silas doesn’t need my nor anyone else’s help in holding Errin’s heart.”

  Merek snorts softly. “What’s he like?”

  I think of the golden-eyed man who cradled Errin in his arms, fighting back tears and putting his own life on the line for hers. I think of his cool determination making the Elixir, and the way he stood by her side in front of his mother, in front of all of his people. I think of the way he threw himself at Lief to defend her. “He’s wonderful. He’s a good man.”

  “I hope to meet him one day.” He finishes his glass and leans forward, reaching for the bottle to top it up. Uncharacteristically I down mine, too, and hold the glass out. He hesitates, grinning, then fills the cup.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he says. “I was being an ass.”

  “I’ll have you know, in Scarron I had a glass or two quite often, while I was reading at night.”

  “You learned to read?”

  “I did.”

  “I was going to teach you,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “If we … After … I never understood why Mother didn’t want you to learn. What kind of queen can’t read?”

  “She never meant for me to be queen. I was only ever supposed to buy her time. And as for preventing me reading, it was a way of keeping me weak, and vulnerable. As were most of her actions. And I don’t want to talk about her anymore. Not tonight.”

  He nods his agreement. “Were you happy in Scarron?”

  “Yes. I think so. It’s a strange place, so far from everything. But it’s what I needed. How were your three days as king?”

  “Nightmarish. I was almost glad Aurek came.” His face falls as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I don’t mean that.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you really going to put me back on the throne if we win?” he asks, his eyes burning into mine.

  “Who else?” I say, my tone harsher than I mean it to be. “Unless you think a council like in Tregellan is a good idea?”

  He shakes his head immediately. “What’s to be done about them?” he asks. “I mean, to all intents and purposes they’ve washed their hands of the w
hole situation in return for gold.”

  “Bureaucrats,” I say, and just like that, we’re back on safe ground. “No point in getting their hands dirty if they don’t need to. Lormere never had any real value to them, except for what they could sell us.”

  “They must know that eventually he’ll come for them,” Merek says. “Lormere has very limited resources, and Tregellan has a lot. Sooner or later he’ll have enough golems, and enough gold, to do to them what he’s done here.”

  “I expect they’re hoping someone will stop him before then.”

  “Us, you mean. While they do nothing to further that cause.” He scowls. “And after? Say we win; what do I do with them if I take the crown? They’ll want their alchemists back.”

  “They won’t go,” I say with certainty. “And we know Tregellan doesn’t have an army.”

  “So …”

  I start speaking, just letting the words come as the ideas form, all of my knowledge of Tregellan and Lormere, everything I’ve seen and read and learned over the past four years of living in both countries pouring out of me. “So you offer them sanctuary here. Offer what Tregellan gave them—a home, the choice to practice, or not, as they choose. But with freedom. Tregellan kept them underground, ostensibly because of Helewys. But no one in Lormere would be hunting them anymore. So they could live freely here. And without the alchemists paying the Council of Tregellan to keep them hidden, the Tregellian treasury will soon run low. We’re their only viable trade partner, unless they heavily expand their shipping fleet, which they can’t without more gold. So they’d have to sign a treaty with us, or risk bankrupting themselves, and we could make the terms very favorable. You could have your apothecaries and your sciences. Schools. Universities. You could make it very appealing for the finest minds to come here. And you’d have to ensure the people hold the current Council to account—the citizens of Tremayne, Newtown, and Tyrwhitt will certainly want to see some justice for what they’ve endured. They won’t be happy that the Council submitted to him. Help them install a new council. Sign a new treaty that allows both countries to benefit. Start afresh.”

  I exhale, taking a large swig of wine and emptying the cup again, slightly stunned by my own apparent knowledge. When Merek doesn’t speak, I see him staring at me, his lips parted.