by Emma Fenton
“He’s taking me to see one of my military outposts tomorrow. Just the two of us.” Peryn looked like he was going to protest, so Ria hurried on. “It’s just the one down by the harbor. Not too far. And I think it will only be for half the day.”
None of this seemed to appease Peryn in the slightest.
“I don’t like it,” the demon said, scowling. “I don’t like the idea of him alone with you.”
Ria pursed her lips. “He won’t try anything until after he marries me. It won’t do him any good to kill me before he’s secured his place on the throne.”
“If we’re right about his motives,” Peryn pointed out. He pursed his lips. “What if he just wants vengeance? What if he just wants to get back at you for killing Jaya more than he cares about the throne?”
Ria frowned. “I don’t know—”
“That’s the point. We don’t know,” Peryn continued fiercely. “We don’t know what Izan will or won’t do. We don’t know if he’ll kill you the moment he gets you alone or if he’ll be content to wait. We don’t know how in control of himself he’ll be if he gets angry. We don’t know that the Council won’t cover for him if he kills you before he marries you, or that the Council won’t just put him on the throne once you’re out of the way. Anything is possible right now.”
“Stop it,” Ria said firmly. Maybe Peryn was right and she should be more worried but getting worked up wouldn’t do any good right now. She grabbed ahold of Peryn by both arms, just barely resisting the urge to shake him out of whatever bizarre, un-Peryn-like mood he was in.
“You’re right,” she continued. “We don’t know nearly enough, and yes, anything could happen, but think about it logically. Why would Izan or the Council go through the motions of having multiple suitors, giving me the illusion of choice, if they were just going to kill me prematurely anyway?”
Peryn opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out.
“They wouldn’t,” Ria said. “Izan might want vengeance, but he wants the throne more. His best shot at getting the people to support him as king after he’s killed me off is to take the throne as legitimately as possible. Now, this doesn’t negate the possibility that he’ll act rashly, but it does mean that the outing he’s planned for me isn’t a premeditated attempt to murder me. You can relax a little, Peryn. I promise I’m not trying to get myself killed.”
Peryn sighed heavily and clasped her arms in return. It was almost like a strange, minimal contact hug, Ria thought. Still, she was unwilling to let go. It was odd to find comfort in a demon, perhaps, but right now, in this moment, she felt like they were a team. And it was nice to not face everyone else on her own for once.
“I’d feel better if I was going with you,” he said. “Even if I stayed out of sight, in the shadows.”
Ria shook her head. “I don’t want to risk you being seen. I know you’re careful, but we’d never be able to explain it if you got caught, and then that would lead to a whole other slew of issues.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. He released her and stepped away.
They had barely been touching, but Ria missed the warmth of his closeness almost immediately. Stupid, she silently reprimanded herself as she forced her hands to stay by her side rather than try to rub some heat back into her now slightly-chilled arms. Perhaps it was nothing to do with Peryn himself. It’s just his magic, she reasoned. Every time they touched, she could feel it buzzing, thrumming through her. And besides, it’s completely normal to find comfort in other people. Or demons, in this case.
“If you insist on being an idiot,” Peryn continued, “then at least take this.”
He held out his empty palm and for a moment Ria wondered if he’d gone completely insane. But before she could remark that offering one’s hand in marriage wasn’t meant to be a literal statement, Peryn muttered something under his breath and a dark shadow swirled in his hand. Just like the last time, the shadow took the shape of a knife. The handle was polished bone—just the right size for Ria’s hand—and the blade was a wicked-sharp curve of glistening black stone. Peryn flipped it expertly in his hand so that the handle was pointing out towards Ria. She took it, shocked by the smoothness of the bone against her skin and how right it felt. Like it was an extension of her arm.
“Thank you,” Ria whispered, still looking at the knife in awe. It was perfect, exactly the kind of weapon she didn’t know she needed: small and light enough that she could conceal it easily and carry it with her wherever she went. So often in recent weeks she’d found herself wishing she was armed. I’ll have to practice with it, she thought. She knew the basics of knife fighting, but because that had been Jaya’s specialty, Ria hadn’t really put in the effort to become good at it. She glanced at the demon, who was pointedly not looking at her. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing with a knife. Maybe he’ll be willing to teach me.
“Consider it a courtship gift,” Peryn said lightly.
Ria’s brow furrowed; if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought there was a slight flush across his cheeks. Must be a trick of the light.
Peryn cleared his throat. “After all, I can’t have Prince Feodor showing me up, now can I?”
“Why, Peryn,” Ria teased, not missing the way the demon sneered the other man’s name. “It almost sounds like you might be feeling a little jealous.”
“Of course not,” he snapped back, jaw clenching. In the blink of an eye, he returned to his relaxed, almost nonchalant expression. “It’s insurance. I can’t have you getting killed before I can collect on my payment, now can I?”
Ria tried not to let that sting. Peryn was a demon, and she was just the mortal who hadn’t yet fulfilled her end of the deal. They were allies by necessity, not choice. You need to stop thinking of him as someone who’s looking out for you, she told herself. He’s not your friend.
“Just…be careful with Izan tomorrow,” he said. “We don’t know what he’ll do.”
“I don’t need you to explain the dangers to me.” She folded her arms, glaring. “I’m not stupid.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m only saying—”
“You should go.” It was difficult to remember why she couldn’t trust him when he almost sounded like he cared. She needed to clear her head, get her priorities straight. “Your insurance—” she held up the knife “—won’t do any good if I’m not awake enough to use it.”
For a moment, Peryn looked like he was going to argue, but he snapped his mouth shut and gave a curt nod. “Goodnight.”
But even when he was gone, the faint traces of his magic still lingered, permeating ever corner of her room. Ria crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, curled in on herself, and tried to ignore how easily the magic soothed her to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The mid-morning sun was brutal. During the winter, when it would snow and sleet for weeks without end, Ria prayed for sunlight on her skin. But now, during the peak of the Thaw, sweat dripped down the back of her neck, and her dress clung uncomfortably to her sweat-slicked skin. The dapple-gray mare beneath her was also dripping from the heat, and Ria felt bad for the poor thing. Izan had insisted they go on horseback despite the fact that the outpost by the harbor was only a short stroll from the palace. He probably just likes the dramatics of it, Ria thought.
The man in question was riding alongside her on a gorgeous black stallion who seemed easily agitated if the tossing of his head was anything to go by. Izan, being an experienced rider, brought his horse to heel with ease, not once faltering in his description of the harbor.
“Aside from the tradeships, of which there are at least nine or ten docked on any given day, this harbor is also home to most of our naval ships,” Izan explained. Ria already knew most of this, but she was content to let him ramble on if only because it meant she didn’t have to really pay attention. “Compared to other countries, our navy is small. Our fleet only has a dozen and a half warships, though they are some of the best equipped ships in
the world.”
Ria was able to hear the truth in what he wasn’t saying. Izan wants to expand the fleet. That much is clear. But why? It’s not like we’re at war right now. A dozen and a half ships is more than sufficient. Then again, Izan had always supported Vili and Nasir during their rants about the dangers of the Pesh and how Helhath needed to be returned to its former glory. Ria could understand wanting to be prepared for the worst-case scenario, but expanding the military wasn’t really a priority right now. She was more concerned with keeping the job market stable and avoiding war with Pesh. Funneling even more money into the army would do the opposite.
“And here we are,” Izan said, bringing his horse to a halt. He swung off the left side with practiced elegance, handed over the reins to a nearby soldier and then moved to help Ria from her horse. His hands settled on her waist with a firm grip, and she tensed for a moment, tempted to refuse his help just to keep him from touching her.
You have to play along, she reminded herself. Don’t let him know that you know he’s a threat. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she smiled brightly at him. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to tell that it was far too toothy to be sincere.
“Thank you, Lord Izan,” she said softly. He nodded in response and gestured towards the door, signaling that she should go first. It pained her to put her back to him, but she took a steadying breath and pretended to smooth down the skirt of her dress so she could feel the outline of the knife strapped to her thigh. I’m fine. I’m safe. He won’t try anything, and if he does, I have a weapon. I’m fine. She repeated the words like a mantra in her head, though it did nothing to lessen her anxieties. Almost without her notice, she ran her fingers across the scar on her left palm, tension releasing from her shoulders as the faint buzz of Peryn’s magic hummed beneath her touch. It must have something to do with the bond, she thought. If she remembered, perhaps she’d ask Peryn about it later.
A stout, older gentleman with a graying beard and swooping mustache was waiting for them just inside. He was a few inches shorter than Ria, but she hardly noticed because the man had a presence. His posture was flawless, his general’s uniform pristine and unwrinkled. He had a sharp look about him that kind of reminded Ria of the Elder Scholar: wise and just a little bit superior. He bowed at the waist when he saw Ria.
“Your majesty,” he said, his voice like gravel. “General Turco at your service. We are pleased by your interest in our facility. We strive to be the best, the kind of soldiers Helhath deserves. I hope you will find that your soldiers meet your standards.”
“I look forward to being impressed, General,” she responded. This was apparently the right thing to say because the man smiled.
“Let’s begin with the armory, then.” The older man completely ignored Lord Izan and marched forward. Ria decided that she rather liked the man.
He led them to a spacious room where the walls were lined with racks upon racks of various blades. Knives, short-swords, long-swords, and spears made up the left side of the room while the right side had maces, battleaxes, and crossbows. The far wall was home to dozens of identical shields.
“As you can see, we are adequately stocked,” General Turco said. “And your soldiers are fully trained in no less than three weapons, although the more ambitious hope to gain a mastery over all of them. That is rare. We find that few have the strength to effectively wield a battleax, and those that do rarely have the finesse to handle close-range knife-fighting.”
“How many soldiers are housed here?” Ria asked.
“The on-site barracks hold only three-hundred. There’s just not enough space down by the harbor to put everyone,” the General said somewhat mournfully. “But we do have nearly two-thousand stationed throughout the city, and that doesn’t include the royal guard.”
Ria hummed. “I suppose, given the size of the city, that we have a considerably higher population of soldiers than the other outposts?”
General Turco nodded. “Most outposts host about seven-hundred soldiers. Overall, I’d say you’ve got about fifteen thousand soldiers under your command.”
“That doesn’t include the troops being managed by the Lords either,” Izan added. General Turco huffed and scowled at Izan.
“And how many troops do you keep, Lord Izan?” the General asked.
Ria could practically feel the tension in the room. She felt like she had missed something crucial. Do General Turco and Izan have a past? It looked that way, at least. From the way the General had pointedly ignored Izan to the grumpy, accusing way he spoke to the younger man, it seemed to Ria that there was some unspoken quarrel between them.
Izan looked at General Turco coolly. “Nearly a thousand. For her majesty to command at will.”
Nearly a thousand, Ria thought, fighting back a scowl. That was concerning. Not that she couldn’t easily outnumber his soldiers given what General Turco had told her about her own forces, but still…Izan had a thousand soldiers that were most likely more loyal to him than to the throne. And I know that Izan himself is a formidable fighter. His soldiers are surely the same.
“And what would someone like you need with a thousand soldiers?” General Turco asked, clearly not buying Izan’s act either.
“As I said, they are for her majesty’s use.” Izan narrowed his eyes at the older man. “And my lands run along the southern border. We will be the first responders to any attack made by the Pesh. Or do you think I should pretend they are not a threat?”
General Turco blushed furiously. “Of course not, I—”
“Then if I am not to keep soldiers at the ready, what would you have me do?”
Ria had to admire Izan for a single moment because he had masterfully backed the General into a corner. The older man could do nothing but agree with Izan unless he wanted to be painted as either a traitor or a fool. While Ria did not consider the Pesh a likely threat at present, she could admit that it would be stupid to leave the border unprotected just in case she was wrong. Izan knew that, and so did General Turco.
The General did not say anything, his dark face flushing even darker from either embarrassment or anger, or both. He led them out of the armory and down towards the courtyard, practically stomping. The courtyard was decently sized—not big enough for all of the troops to train at once, but large enough to be a suitable sparring space—and filled with two-dozen soldiers, all in the midst of mock fights. Ria looked on, impressed, as they swirled and ducked, narrowly avoiding the blades of their sparring partners. She was pleased to note that there were a handful of women amongst the men. It wasn’t uncommon for women to be in the army, but many of the reports Ria had received from the other outposts indicated that the women were always trained separately from the men. That was clearly not the case here.
Jaya would have loved this, Ria thought, and then ignored the accompanying twinge of phantom pain in her shoulder that always arose at the thought of her sister. Despite the fact that it had been a few weeks since her coronation, Ria still was not entirely healed. Her shallower wounds had scarred nicely, but her shoulder ached if she was too rough with it. Most of the time, she pretended that her body was fine, but there were moments when she wondered if she would ever fully recover.
“We believe in constant practice,” General Turco said, grinning proudly at the soldiers. “Upkeep is just as important as the initial training.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Ria said. If she had kept training with Uscar instead of dropping all physical activity in favor of pursuing diplomatic studies full-time, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to summon a demon to defeat Jaya in mortal combat.
“My soldiers practice every day for an hour,” the General boasted. Then he sneered. “Some other outposts are not as…dedicated.”
“That will be amended shortly.” She knew the Council would approve of her plans, too. It was perhaps the one thing they would agree on: the continued security of Helhath. “I would like to meet a few of my soldiers.”
At this, General Turco
perked up. “Of course!”
He pulled out a small whistle and gave it a single blow. Instantly, all the soldiers stood at attention. The General led Ria and Izan down into the courtyard towards the nearest group.
“Queen Honoria, these soldiers are some of our best,” the General said proudly as he gestured at the four soldiers. “Our elite squadron.”
The four of them—three men and one woman—all seemed the stoic, quiet type. Not that Ria could blame them. General Turco was an intimidating figure when he wanted to be, Lord Izan had a stern look on his face, and Ria was the queen. They probably wanted to make a good impression.
She didn’t doubt that they were the best, though. The men reminded her of Uscar, which she supposed she should have expected since they’d all gone through the same training. They looked wildly different; two of the men were taller while the third was shorter than Ria and somewhat squat, but sturdy. No, it was their eyes that all looked the same: hardened, calculating, like they were dissecting her and cataloguing her weaknesses.
It was the woman who caught Ria’s attention, though. She was tall, probably taller than even Jaya had been, well-muscled and curvy, and her hair was cut as short as the men’s. There was a proud tilt to her head, something defiant in her eyes. It was a look Ria knew well; she’d worn it herself coming out of her fight with Jaya. It was a look that meant: I have earned my place here. Just try and take it from me.
“Toughest of the tough,” General Turco continued. He chuckled. “You don’t want to be on the business end of any of their blades.” His face lit up. “Oh, but perhaps a demonstration is in order?”
The General sounded so hopeful, no doubt eager to show off the fruits of his training. And, Ria had to admit, she was curious to see it. She’d only ever watched fights between Jaya and Uscar, and while that had been terrifyingly graceful, Ria could only imagine what an elite fighter was capable of. Ria nodded.
“It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. They make fighting into an art form,” General Turco said. And then, with no less excitement, “Of course, I don’t need to explain to you. You’re quite the fighter yourself.”
