by Emma Fenton
“Futures become clearer when the choices which dictate them have already been made.” The Elder Scholar leaned heavily on the table. “I cannot change the future, Ria. I can only create the opportunity for more choices.”
She glared at him. “Is this another one of your cryptic warnings? Why can’t you ever just tell me?”
“Because it is not that easy,” he snapped. Ria stared at him; she had never seen the Elder Scholar lose his temper before. “The future is fickle. Even I do not always know which decisions will lead to which outcomes.”
Ria was quiet for a moment, thinking. “And when unfavorable outcomes become more certain, you create other choices, thus opening up the possibility for more favorable outcomes. Am I correct?”
He almost smiled at her. “Very good, Ria.”
Her mind rapidly flicked through their conversation, processing what the Elder Scholar was telling her. “But by telling me the possibilities before they are set, you risk negatively impacting the course of events. So why tell me any of this at all?”
The Elder Scholar pressed his lips together as if debating on whether he should say anything. “Because regardless of what happens over the next few weeks, you will need my help. And because I believe that of all my options, you are the best one.”
Ria furrowed her brow. “Over the next few weeks? You seem confident I’ll live that long.”
At this, the Elder Scholar looked a little guilty. “It’s true that Jaya will have you executed as soon as she’s crowned.”
“Comforting,” Ria said, though it was without bite. She had already suspected as much.
“I have, ah, bought us a little more time, so to speak. The Council will announce it tomorrow, and I’d rather you hear it from them. Please try to remember that I am on your side, Ria.”
Well that doesn’t sound promising. She continued to glare at him. “You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?”
The Elder Scholar only gave her a half-hearted smile in response. Ria didn’t know if she was more frustrated that he was being so vague or relieved that at least somebody in the palace was willing to help her. And not just anybody, Ria thought. Somebody who can see the future. The Elder Scholar was an invaluable asset and he’d all but admitted he was on her side, even if it meant going against Jaya.
Ria was halfway out the doors of the library when another thought struck.
“Master Ameer,” she said, stepping back into the library for a moment. He looked up at her questioningly. “Did you know that Mikhael was going to…?” She trailed off, leaving the abandon me part unspoken.
The Elder Scholar seemed to think it over for a moment. “This is not…I would not have chosen this particular path for you, Ria. It will not be easy.” He paused again, and for a moment Ria thought he would refuse to answer her question. “I saw many glimpses of you as queen in Anor. Perhaps you will find a small comfort in knowing that I would not have chosen those futures for you either.”
With that he turned back to his studies, leaving Ria to wonder at the true meaning of his words.
***
When Ria was summoned by the Council in the early morning, she was not surprised. The Elder Scholar was many things, but he was not a liar, and she was slowly learning to trust that he always knew more than he let on. Still, knowing that the Council was going to summon her had done little to ease her nerves. Master Ameer said that he had bought them more time, but that could mean any number of things.
Ria was personally betting that he’d somehow managed to convince the Council and Jaya that she would need an elaborate coronation ceremony. It would appeal to Jaya’s vanity and seemed a good enough reason to delay the official crowning of Helhath’s next queen, but Ria still failed to see how that would prevent Jaya from stabbing her when they passed in the hallways. The more she thought about dying the less she wanted to be dead. Whatever reconciliation she’d reached with the inevitability of her death last night was shattered, replaced by panic and a determination to survive. No matter what.
Ria had also realized last night upon returning to her room that she had completely forgotten to ask the Elder Scholar about the rest of his prophecy. She’d spent until dawn trying to recall it. Beware the usurper…something, she remembered, but that was it. Well that was helpful. What good is a prophecy if you can’t even remember the damned thing? Ultimately, she had decided to deal with that later. First, she had to hear what the Council had to say.
It was clear to Ria when she entered the Council’s chambers that no one had slept the night before. The Councilmen were a mess: Vili’s turban was crooked, Nasir’s beard scraggly and untrimmed, and Paavo’s eyes were drooping more than usual. Jaya, who was normally so rigid and intimidating, held her head up with one hand, dark circles under her eyes. At her right-hand side, Izan was the only one who looked just as alert and put-together as usual in his black sea-silk suit.
“Princess Honoria,” Vili greeted in his grating voice. “Thank you for joining us so early.”
Ria nearly frowned. Why is he being so nice? Normally Vili would just tell her to sit and listen. She hesitantly sat at the only open chair which happened to be on Jaya’s left. The older girl was watching her from the corner of her eye, but Ria tried not to notice. It seemed unlikely that Jaya would kill her here. And besides, the Elder Scholar had assured her—
The Elder Scholar does not know everything, she reminded herself.
“In light of your parents’ deaths, Helhath is in need of a new queen,” Vili continued once Ria was seated. “Princess Ria’s engagement to the Anorian Prince had previously made her ineligible to inherit the throne. This is no longer the case.”
Jaya’s head snapped up. “I am the rightful heir. I have been preparing for this my whole life,” she snarled. Ria was only grateful Jaya’s hostility was currently directed at the Council and not at her.
Nasir sighed. “Helhath does not legally choose heirs by order of birth. Your claim to the throne is no stronger than Honoria’s.”
“For the last three centuries, this problem has been avoided,” Paavo said, speaking before Jaya could begin to protest. It was a testament to her exhaustion that she did not simply speak over the Council. “Either there has only been one heir alive at the time of inheritance, or the other heirs have been married off, thus negating their claim to the throne.”
Jaya stood up. “Then find her another husband,” she shouted, pointing at Ria.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Paavo said, flashing Ria an apologetic smile. “There are few eligible men of a suitable status, fewer still who would accept what they deem a small dowry. And none of them are interested in a woman who has been in a long-term engagement out of fear of…damaged goods.”
Ria’s face heated at that. She and Mikhael had never done anything more than kiss, and even that had not been too improper. What does the truth matter, she thought bitterly. People would think what they were inclined to think, and there was nothing she could do to disprove them. Not that she wanted to marry, but still, to be defamed in such a manner was humiliating.
“It is with great regret that we must turn to the old laws,” Vili said, though Ria doubted he was sincere in his regret. Vili was always going on about returning Helhath to its former glory. “There is but one law that dictates the succession of the throne in the event of two eligible heirs. You will face each other in mortal combat.”
Ria thought she did not hear him correctly.
“Though this law is archaic,” Nasir said, “our nation was founded on strength and a fighting spirit. What better way to prove your right to rule than to exhibit these very traits?”
Jaya leaned forward, eyes alight again. Ria watched her sister, dread pooling in her stomach. Ria had never taken to fighting the same way that Jaya had. At her best—and that was more than three years ago when she still trained every day—Ria could only manage to disarm her sister one time out of a hundred, and only because Jaya had been distracted. I will neve
r be able to beat her now, she thought, fury at the Elder Scholar rising. How dare he get her hopes up that she might live only to have this certain death thrown in her face?
“In order to give you both time to grieve the loss of your parents and to prepare for the fight, we will hold this ceremony three weeks from now,” Paavo said, eyes flickering briefly to Ria. She wondered if he thought he was doing her a favor by giving her time.
Time to do what? she thought bitterly. Panic? Imagine all the ways Jaya could kill me in combat?
The Council dismissed them moments later. Jaya stood, Izan by her side, and sneered openly at Ria as they moved to leave.
“You’d better start training,” Jaya said, voice low as she passed by.
Ria ignored her sister, partly in an attempt to retain some semblance of dignity and partly because she was too angry to speak. She stormed out the council room, out into the hallways, and up towards the library. She flung open the doors.
“I see you’ve heard from the Council,” the Elder Scholar said from his seat at one of the long tables. He had the nerve to sound amused. “I did warn you it would not be easy.”
“You just gave my sister a legal way to kill me,” Ria hissed, “and all you have to say is ‘I told you so?’ You think this is a favor?”
“I think I gave you three weeks you would not have otherwise.” If he was bothered by her anger, he did not show it. His eyes glazed over for a few seconds. “Jaya will play by the rules for now.”
Ria sagged at that and took a seat across from the Elder Scholar. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Find a way to get out of fighting,” he answered without looking up from his work. “Or find a way to win.”
***
If Ria was being honest with herself, this was a little pathetic. She stared down at the now-finished letter on her desk wondering if she should even bother to send it. Mikhael had been so cold to her the last time they spoke, and she was still angry and hurt. He was the last person she wanted to beg for help, but she didn’t know who else would be able to do anything.
She could tell herself that all she wanted was for him to offer her asylum in Anor, but there was still a part of her that wanted Mikhael back. A part of her that hoped against all hopes that he would read about her predicament and want to save her. A part of her that hoped there was still a part of him that loved her despite what he claimed.
Ria folded the letter neatly and sealed it with the royal crest. She would send the letter. It would take days just to reach Mikhael and just as long for his response to get back to her. If he could offer her a way out of the fight, she would take it. If not, well, then she’d know for sure that he had never really cared for her.
Chapter Four
The ground in the northern parts of Helhath was too hard for burials even in the midst of the Thaw. Instead, two pyres stood out in the open field behind the palace, each made from the trees of the holy Whitewood. Only the most honored of the dead were cremated with Whitewood, and Ria absently wondered if her parents were truly deserving. To her knowledge, they’d never done anything particularly noteworthy. Her mother was a highborn lady from the southern border and her father was the sole heir to the throne of Helhath. Neither of them had ever had to fight for their right to live.
Now, their bodies laid atop the pyres. Ria knew she shouldn’t think ill of the dead. It wasn’t as if her parents were forcing her to fight Jaya, nor could they do anything about it now. But unfair as it was, she resented them for dying. If they hadn’t caught sick, Mikhael never would have left her. Ria would be arranging her wedding ceremony, getting her gown fitted, preparing for her life at Mikhael’s side—not worrying about how she was going to survive the next three weeks.
A row of archers in front of her raised their bows, flaming arrows aimed and at the ready. In perfect synchronization, the archers released their bowstrings. The arrows arced through the sky and rained down on the pyres like a meteor shower. The wood caught instantly. Flames quickly engulfed the bodies and trailed up into the heavens in spirals of smoke.
Ria watched for a while, though it was not mandatory for her to stay until the fires went out. The others had moved on to the feast portion of the funeral, but she was not hungry and did not feel like putting on a face for the crowds of nobles who would give her their condolences on her parents’ deaths. They wouldn’t really mean it, especially with the excitement surrounding her upcoming fight with Jaya.
Jaya was as excited as the rest, confident in her ability to win. It had already been four days since the Council announced that they would be fighting, and while Jaya reveled in the situation, Ria was no closer to finding a way out. Her letter would reach Mikhael within the next day or two, but whether he could help her—if he was even willing to do so—remained uncertain.
And Ria had to admit that she was smart enough now not to put all her eggs in one basket. She’d made the mistake before of relying on Mikhael for safety, and in turn, he had abandoned her in her greatest time of need. She wanted him to offer aid, but the longer she thought about it, the more she considered it unlikely that he would. She needed another plan.
It was with this in mind that she excused herself from the funeral festivities to go to the library. There had to be law books in there somewhere, preferably one with a loophole for getting out of government mandated fights with one’s murderous sibling. It would help that Ria was not particularly invested in the throne itself. Though she had prepared to be queen of Anor and had been ready to step into that role, the idea of gaining power was not more appealing than the idea of staying alive.
Ria grabbed a few books from the law section, but also a few from history as well. Even if there was not a specific law, perhaps the Council would consider a historical precedent. She knew from experience that the historical texts were dry as dirt, but if there was anything to find, she would find it.
Some hours later, though, her already limited amount of optimism was fading. There was nothing. Not one mention of a single abdication. Not one heir who gave up their right to the throne and simply left. Not even a runaway. The Council was right; in the past three hundred years, there had never been more than one eligible heir at a time. Before that, Ria was slowly discovering as she parsed her way through the increasingly illegible texts, it appeared as though mortal combat was a common practice. There were ancient family tree diagrams she’d found that showed siblings with the names of the one defeated crossed out in a line of black ink so thick she couldn’t make out the name underneath.
That’s what would happen to her if she fought Jaya and lost.
She put her head down on the book wearily and tried not to breathe in too much dust. In some ways, her own impending death felt like a poorly remembered dream. Nothing in Ria’s daily life had changed, and there were times when she thought she might have merely imagined the Council telling her she would have to fight her sister to the death. Ria couldn’t seem to ever fully wrap her head around it. At times, she could almost pretend that there wasn’t an expiration date on her life.
The library doors creaked open. Ria’s pulse quickened as she recalled that the library was still a dangerous place to be; for all she knew, the men who had threatened to kill her only a couple weeks ago were still lurking about the castle. They’d wanted some book, and Ria thought the Elder Scholar would have mentioned it if he’d noticed one of his books had gone missing. It was likely they were still after it. Ria almost couldn’t believe she’d forgotten her near-death experience so readily, although she supposed being confronted with true death and the firm promise of more to come would be enough to make what happened in the library seem inconsequential.
Ria looked at the table in front of her: a stack of books, some parchment, an almost-empty inkwell, and a single quill whose edge was not even particularly sharp. Still, one good jab in the eye would be enough to give me the advantage, she thought as she rolled the quill between her thumb and forefinger. She stood slowly, careful not to make any soun
d. It was dark outside, and the library was only lit by the lanterns lining the walls. The whole room was practically a shadow.
Footsteps drew nearer to her table and Ria readied herself for an attack. A faint glow grew stronger from one of the bookcases and the footsteps were slightly louder. Her grip on the quill tightened until she feared she might break it.
Nasir turned the corner and stopped in his tracks, his eyes immediately dropping to Ria’s hand where she held the quill like a dagger. He looked back up, some mixture of amusement and surprise flitting across his face. He doesn’t think I’m a threat, Ria realized a little indignantly.
“Ah, Princess,” Nasir said after a moment. “The Council asked me to look for you. You’re missing the festivities.”
Ria forced a smile as she lowered the quill and began tucking away her notes. “Forgive me. I merely wanted a respite from the crowds. It seems I lost track of time.”
“You do love your books.”
Her smile tightened. She couldn’t be sure if she imagined something in his tone, not exactly condescending, but almost as though he was annoyed with her. She couldn’t fathom why he would care if she liked reading or not and decided that she must have imagined it. He’s probably just angry the Council sent him to fetch me, Ria thought. She let him lead her from the library and back down to the great hall.
One long table had been set up for the high lords and ladies while the rest of their entourages would eat outside. Most of the guests, Ria noted with some distaste, were already inebriated to the point of sloppiness. The main exceptions seemed to be Jaya and Lord Izan who sat—rather presumptuously, in Ria’s opinion—at the head of the table. As if she’s already queen. And Izan expects to be king, it seems. He’ll be disappointed if he thinks he’ll have more power than Jaya. She’d never allow it.
Ria took a seat at the opposite end of the table, her stomach growling as the smell of crab soup reached her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. A steaming bowl was placed in front of her smelling of spice and sharp sea salt, the thick creamy texture the color of fresh butter. She practically inhaled the soup.
