Sins of a Sovereignty (Amernia Fallen Book 1)

by Plague Jack

  The wonders of the Queen’s gallery were warm with the glow of torchlight. In one corner sat the skull of a great shark, its rows of teeth black and jagged. Sitting awkwardly beside it was a false mermaid, made from the sewn-together corpses of a mummified fish and ape.

  The most impressive objects in her collection were the wedding gifts she had received from foreign kings and rulers. The Glass Empire had given her a golden worm-dragon statue, which clutched a grapefruit-sized pearl in each of its four claws. The Kama Gesskara, ruler of the Firelands before his brutal death, had gifted her with a steel oil lamp whose candles sat perky at the end of steel branches.

  The lamp had long since run out of oil, and its arms now lay dormant and coated with cobwebs. The tyrannosaur skull, coated in bronze and painted with blue and white spots, had been a hunting trophy of a lizard-headed Azmirian tyrant. The Vaetorians had failed to provide a wedding present. “I’m giving that usurper half my country,” her father had said about Gabriel. “That’s more than he deserves.”

  “Joseline!” cried Minerva as the doors closed behind her and the sentinels took point. “Joseline, where are you?” she repeated, as her voice echoed against the silence. Fear gripped Minerva’s breast as she stepped forward into the rows of the gallery. Slowly she untied the flower-headed mace that was strapped to her leg, all the while keeping a hand on the ruby choker that clung to her neck. Shadows reflected along trinkets became revenge-hungry elves lurking in the dark. Calm down, she told herself, if an assassin somehow made his way down here, the sentinels would detect them. A glance back at her golden guardians’ empty masks failed to calm the Queen’s nerves and she gripped her mace ever tighter.

  The Queen’s final wedding present had also been her favorite. The Keonan King had given the newly wedded Roselock couple a very rare set of elephant armor. The poor man’s heart had nearly broken when he’d been told Amernia didn’t have any elephants. Ever appreciative, Minerva had had a life-sized elephant dummy carved out of white wood. Atop the armored beast was a canopy with enough room for a driver and a few archers. It was there that the Queen saw the shadow of movement. “Joseline? Is that you?”

  “Roar!” screamed the face that appeared suddenly and sharply over the side of the canopy. Its yellow was offset by a red mouth filled with smiling white teeth and curved tusks. The thing’s lidless eyes glared angrily down at Minerva, and it shook its head side to side like a mad dog, a long mane of coarse black hair flopping about.

  The Queen screamed, and in a moment of adrenaline she threw her mace at her assailant. Her weapon hit the roof of the iron canopy with a spark before crashing down onto the elephant’s back. “Oooowwww,” moaned a familiar voice before a yellow-faced mask was thrown over the elephant’s side. It landed at the Queen’s feet, the gargoyle’s face mangled by the Queen’s mace, which was stuck in its forehead.

  Oh, gods, what have I done, thought the Queen as she ran to the elephant’s side and began to climb the rope ladder. “Joseline, are you hurt? I’m so sorry.” You offer your niece sanctuary and then you bludgeon her with a morningstar? Idiot.

  “I’m fine,” said a smiling and cheerful face peering down at her. Since she was being kept hidden, Minerva saw no harm in letting Joseline grow her hair again. It grew quickly and already bordered on shag. “What’s the password?” asked the little girl.

  “I’m Queen,” said the Queen. “Queens don’t need passwords to go where they please.”

  “Fair,” said Joseline before extending a hand and helping Minerva aboard. “Welcome aboard the Dreadnought Surus; pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “This is a ship now, is it?” asked Minerva. Joseline had collected an assortment of pillows and set up a bed in the canopy. “Looks more like a war elephant to me.”

  “You shh,” said the girl. “It’s a ship, and a fine one at that.”

  “Where’s the crew?”

  “Dead,” said Joseline, pointing to the shark’s jaws, “we were attacked by a sea monster… they didn’t make it…” her voice trailed off in feigned sadness. “And things are getting worse.” A spyglass was shoved into the Queen’s hands. “Pirates on starboard side.”

  Through the glass Minerva could see what she meant. A row of suits of armor had been dressed in an assortment of hats and coats. “Captain Joseline, does this ship have any weapons?”

  “No, milady. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

  “May I have your permission to go on land? I know of a town near here where I could get us some defenses.”

  “If you’re quick about it,” said Joseline. “We’re more vulnerable docked than on the water.” A few minutes later Minerva was once again climbing up the rope ladder, this time with a bundle of bows, arrows, bolts, and slingshots all held together loosely in an old tapestry. “Good haul,” said Captain Joseline.

  “Good haul?” scoffed the Queen. “Do you have any idea the hell I went through to secure these? I fought off half a dozen cannibals with nothing but my hands.”

  “Good point. You are now promoted to first mate.”

  “It’s an honor,” said the Queen as they began to sort through the mess of ranged weaponry. “Here, take this,” said Minerva, handing the girl a slingshot.

  Joseline rolled her eyes in disgust. “That’s a little girl’s weapon. I want the crossbow.”

  “Okay,” said the Queen. “Just put a bolt in there and wind it back.”

  “I know how to do it,” said the girl, proud and defiant. “I’ve seen the guards do it a hundred times!” She did know what she was doing, although winding a crossbow is not easy for a princess. After several tries she ended up wedging the crossbow against the side of the carriage and turning the crank with both hands.

  “You’re ready, then,” said the Queen, who had armed herself with a short bow. “Let’s shoot in volleys.”

  “Why volleys?” asked Joseline.

  “Because the enemy’s morale is more likely to break if he has to face a wall of arrows. Even though having everyone free-fire is much more effective at killing, volleys win battles. Also, I call the one in the purple feathered hat.” That particular suit of armor had belonged to her dead husband.

  “I call the one in the blue, then,” said Joseline, narrow-eyed. “He looked at me funny.”

  “All right, on the count of three, then,” said the Queen, drawing back her bow. “One, two, three!” She let her arrow fly, and it soared beautifully before missing its target completely and skidding across the stone. Joseline’s bolt found its mark, however, and punched through the blue cloak worn by a hog helmeted pirate.

  “You missed,” said Joseline, discarding the crossbow and reaching for the slingshot.

  So much for the slingshot being too girly, thought the Queen, watching Joseline pull back the slingshot’s band. Once the girl was ready to fire, Minerva began to count again. “One, two, three, fire!” This time Minerva’s arrow hit its target, just barely embedding itself in her late husband’s pauldron. Joseline had targeted a different suit, this one in a red feather boa. Her shot ricocheted off the armor’s head and knocked the purple hat off Gabriel’s helmet. Their sport continued until both of them were out of arrows.

  “I think we won,” said the Queen.

  “Yes,” said Joseline, who was eying the number of arrows lying dead upon the ground. “You have horrible aim.”

  “It’s improper to tell a queen she’s bad at something, my dear,” said the Queen. “You are supposed to sing my praises no matter how hard I fail. Archery is considered a manly art, anyway. They don’t teach queens how to defend themselves, only to look pretty, curtsy, and use the right knife at dinner.”

  “Maybe you would have had better luck if you’d thrown your mace instead.”

  The Queen’s glare met Joseline’s. They kept their faces straight, but only for a moment. Naturally Joseline was the first to laugh, but the Queen was the last to stop. “You’re good with that slingshot,” said Minerva. “Keep it, and practice often so
no one ever catches you unprepared.”

  “Minerva,” said Joseline nervously, “can I ask you something?”

  The girl seemed uneasy. “Of course, my dear. Anything.”

  “I have to sleep out here at night while you go into your room. I don’t mind being alone. After living in the palace I kind of like it, but it can be scary late at night.”

  “You have nothing to fear,” said Minerva. “The sentinels over there would crush anyone who tried to hurt you.” Although they’ve never actually been combat-tested…

  “They scare me,” said the girl. “They glow from the inside. You can’t tell when the torches are lit. But when they go dark, red light burns through the slots in their armor. Sometimes they stare at me while I try and sleep.”

  “That would be… disconcerting,” said the Queen. “But I won’t send them away. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Their fists are the only way to open the door out of here.”

  “Well, then, maybe I could sleep in your room?”

  The Queen paused before answering. “Maybe,” she said, uncomfortable with the idea. She must be bored cooped up alone all day, and lonely. Even the wonders of the world get tiring with time. “You’ve never seen my room, have you? Come, it’s where I keep my pretty things.” Together they descended from the elephant and made their way through the twisted paths of the gallery. Minerva played the five notes on the piano and the magnetic doors opened with a clang.

  The Princess let out a gasp. “How does that work?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” replied the Queen. “Eldred claims it’s not magic.”

  “Then what?”

  “Science,” said the Queen, continuing only after she saw Joseline’s blank expression. “It’s a way the Amernians have developed to simulate the effects of magic.”

  “Does that mean anyone can learn it?”

  “Potentially,” said the Queen as she led the Princess into her room. “I always wanted to create a scientific college to replace the mages’.”

  Joseline ran forward and leapt upon the bed, where she began to bounce up and down. “You have this big bed and you make me sleep on top of a bunch of moldy old pillows?”

  Minerva only had so much tolerance for youthful exuberance. “Get down from there,” she ordered while a disappointed Joseline sat herself down, pouty. “These are my things,” said the Queen. “Be gentle with them.”

  “Everything’s yours,” said Joseline. “You didn’t mind it when we were shooting your suits of armor. Now why is a bed so important?”

  “A bed is a very personal thing.”

  “At least you have things,” said the Princess sourly. “Everything I had is back in Typhonhold. I can’t ever see it again….”

  Minerva sat down on the red sheets beside Joseline. “Do you miss Vaetor?” asked the Queen. “Or Eric?”

  “No,” said Joseline. “Daddy was always too sick to leave the bed. I can’t remember seeing him ever walk. He made me sad. Occasionally Grandpa would come and visit him and they’d end up yelling. Grandpa would order the servants not to feed him for days as punishment.”

  Sounds like father, thought Minerva. To say King Van Cann could be harsh was an understatement. “What about your grandmother? Do you miss her?”

  Again Joseline shook her head. “Grandmother was never mean, but never really nice. She was afraid of Grandfather, I think. I didn’t want to go with her, but her men made me. She cried a lot on the boat. There is one person I miss…” Her voice trailed off.

  “And who is that?”

  “Lady Lee. She was in charge of teaching me to be a proper lady, I didn’t like that, but she was very nice to me. One day the King got mad at her for letting me run around the palace. I never saw her again. We left soon after.”

  Tenderly the Queen placed a hand under the girl’s chin. “Look up at me, child, and keep holding back those tears. It’s a man’s world and we women have to be twice as strong if we are going to have a place in it.”

  Joseline sniffed but did not cry. “Why don’t you have a king?”

  The innocent curiosity of children gives them astounding courage. “He was killed.” When Joseline raised her eyebrows, the Queen clarified: “Not by me.”

  “Then who did kill him? You don’t seem sad. Aren’t you supposed to love him?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to miss your family?” said Minerva, immediately wishing she had held her tongue. If Joseline’s feelings were hurt she didn’t show it. “He was not a bad man,” said the Queen. “I never loved him, and I think it was mutual. I was his war trophy, fresh and ripe from Vaetor. We never hated each other, but we were never close.”

  There was silence as Joseline hesitated in repeating her question. “Who killed him, then?”

  “Our son,” said the Queen, shifting uncomfortably. “He was a bad man, and now he’s dead.”

  “Tell me more?”

  “No. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Are all men evil?” asked Joseline. “You don’t seem to like them.”

  The Queen sighed heavily. “Children see too much,” she said. If she has the gall to ask these questions she deserves an honest answer. “I do not believe them to be evil in most cases. I believe them to be hypocritical and weak, desperate for direction. Not unlike children.”

  “Will there ever be another king?”

  “No,” said Minerva, shaking her head, “not if I do my job well enough. There have been marriage offers but they’ve all been from greedy, power-hungry creatures who mask their lusts behind a smile. I will never share either kingdom or bed with a man again.”

  “I want to get married someday,” said Joseline. “And I want to be queen.”

  There are no heirs, thought Minerva. The Roselock line ends with me. Eventually I’ll get old and sick, and then who will lead the kingdom? There will be civil war as the dukes tear the county to pieces. I need an heir. “That’s an interesting idea.” said the Queen. “Tell me, what would you do if you were queen?”

  “Hmmm,” hummed Joseline as she pondered the question. “The first thing I would do is spend all the gold finding a cure for the plague.”

  “Did you see a lot of the plague when you lived in Typhonhold?” asked the Queen.

  “A bit,” said Joseline. “They wouldn’t let me out of the palace, and no one would ever tell me what was going on. Once I got curious and climbed out my bedroom window and onto the roof. From there I could see guards dumping carts full of bodies into the water. I didn’t go on the roof after that.”

  Dog rot had ravished Amernia in the years before the Rose Rebellion. Evrill’s vaccine had helped eradicate the virus from most of Amernia’s corners, although it could still be found in places of poverty. Eventually the disease had spread to Vaetor, and the faraway kingdom had had no such luck finding a cure.

  “A fine sentiment,” said Minerva. “But making enough vaccine for a country is costly to say the least. Unless you want to go bankrupt you’ll never eradicate all of it, so you’re going to have to choose who gets to live and who gets to die. An obvious choice to receive the vaccine first would be the farmers, since they are the ones solving your hunger problem. But the problem with farming is that it’s hard work and farmers must be accountable for their actions. To keep the farmers under control you’ll have to institute a duke. That’s when the trouble starts, because the Duke is going to oversee all the farmers and traders, so he’s going to demand that he and his friends get the vaccine first. The peasants will then get angry, and rightfully so. You have to keep the nobility placated so they can keep the farmers controlled. At the same time you have to keep the nobility controlled so they don’t get any ideas about who gets to run the show.”

  “Being queen doesn’t sound so fun anymore,” said Joseline.

  “Oh, it has its perks,” said Minerva. “There’s rarely a dull day, and you get everything you could ever want, but there’s always the reality hanging over your head that no matter what you give them or do fo
r them, the people are always going to blame you for their problems. The common man cannot understand that for every gain there is an equal loss. Sacrifice is always the cost of victory, and in the end they’ll hunt you for it. At best you’ll get in a golden decade or two before the inevitable.”

  “I don’t want to be a queen anymore,” said Joseline.

  “Then you stand a chance of becoming a good one.”

  “Do you not want to be queen?”

  Minerva shook her head. “I was born a Van Cann, as were you. Our family has held Vaetor for the past thirteen hundred years with strength, wit, and a bit of luck. There is a power in our blood, child, and I am no less a Van Cann because my last name is Roselock. I could never do anything other than be queen, and whoever wants to take my crown from me will have to take it from my corpse.”

  “I think you’re a good queen,” said Joseline. “You’re kind, and you’re the only family member who’s ever really been nice to me.”

  Minerva’s smile curled into a laugh. Oh, if she only knew. “How sweet of you to say…” It’s dry in here, thought the Queen as she stood up and retrieved a bottle of wine from a red oak cabinet. This will help. She poured herself a glass as Joseline left the bed and took a seat at the piano.

  “Can I?” she asked, before Minerva nodded in approval. Timidly the Princess poked out a few notes before running her fingers down the ivory keys. “I’ve never seen something like this,” said Joseline. “The noise it makes is so pretty! Where’s it from?”

  “It’s an invention made by the inventor stuck to the walls of my basement,” said the Queen as she sipped her wine. Joseline flittered her fingers back and forth over the device before quickly becoming bored.

  “Ooooh, pretty,” said Joseline, turning her attention towards the glass case that held Minerva’s crown collection.

  “Don’t touch those,” said the Queen, downing more wine as she stepped forward. It was too late; Joseline had already opened the case and placed a silver crown of thorns upon her head. “I said, don’t touch those!” snapped the Queen, as the palm of her hand smacked Joseline’s cheek and knocked the crown from her head.