Queen of the Earth: Book V in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  “I can never thank you enough, for everything. You...”

  “Stop it, Via,” Tanisca snapped playfully as she pulled away. “I am not going to ruin this make up. I spent all morning on it.”

  They laughed together, and Veria knew they were both using the humor to wash away the threat of emotions.

  “Veria,” Browan's voice filled the room with its booming depth.

  Both women looked up at him, as regal as Veria had ever seen him in a fur-trimmed violet robe and the largest crown she had ever seen sitting atop his dust-colored hair, which had been slicked to one side—the first time she had ever seen him put any effort into it.

  He offered his large hand to her in a gesture that reminded her of a picture in a storybook, and mimicking the dainty princesses in those tales and drawings, she took it, and allowed him to guide her out of the room.

  She kept her eyes forward and her mind clear as they made the trek through the castle from her room to the grand balcony where they would be wed in front of a crowd of hundreds. As they approached the balcony, she could hear the buzz and thrum and clamor of the gathered masses, and it grew louder with every step toward their final destination.

  They came to a stop before the giant glass doors leading out onto the balcony, where several kingdom officials stood in waiting, including Willis Villicrey and the General who had been in the library the night Browan had turned her and Strelzar into his secret assassins.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” Browan muttered without looking at her.

  “But you did. More than once,” Veria snapped in a hushed tone.

  “And you hurt me,” Browan said. “Let us just leave the score settled. You are going to have the kind of life every one out there envies.”

  Veria whipped her head to glare at him. “How did I hurt you?” she rasped.

  “You didn't choose me,” he murmured.

  “Choose you, Browan?” she scoffed. “Everything about us, whatever we had, was a lie.”

  “No, not all of it.”

  “Really? You invited me to the castle to keep an eye on me. You seduced me into your twisted plot—I almost died saving you from assassins you controlled, so you could control me and use me, just like them. You used my feelings for you to manipulate me into carrying out your dirty work. I'm a pawn on your Tactics board. All those games we played should have been a warning to me, but I was stupid.”

  Browan turned to her and grabbed her by the elbows, eliciting a shudder of disgust from her.

  “You are right. You were the pawn. I placed you on the board as a piece of my strategy, but I never expected to actually fall in love with you,” he said seriously, his eyes wide with remorse and emotion. “There were nights when you were healing from that injury that I stayed up, watching you sleep, weeping at what I had done to you, not just then, but by taking your father from you, and thinking of dropping the whole plan—all of it—just to somehow make it up to you.”

  A raging heat bubbled up from Veria's stomach into her chest, and then through her throat to her face, where it tinged her cheeks hot red and turned to a cloud of steam in her head. She raised her hand to slap him, but before she could follow through on the motion, his strong hand clasped around her wrist.

  “You know I am not lying,” he said softly, his eyes locking on hers.

  “That's exactly why I am angry,” she spat. “If that's how you felt, why didn't you do something? Why didn't you stop, like you said?”

  He dropped her hand. “I realized I was weak. You were making me weak. I worked too hard for too long to let you ruin the one thing I've worked for in my life.”

  The lie crackled in her hot ears, and she smirked.

  “No, that's not why,” she drawled with a wicked grin on her lips.

  “Then, why?” he snapped.

  “You were intimidated by me,” Veria sneered. “Once you actually saw my power, you were scared. When I brought two members of the Ageless Council into your castle for me, and not you, you were terrified. You loved me, but you hated it. Because in your mind, what sort of King, what sort of man, would love a woman who is stronger than he is? That's how frail you are. That's how weak you already were, and you didn't need my help to make you that way.”

  Momentary rage flickered in Browan's golden eyes before his face curled into a taunting smirk.

  “Look who has emerged from the thick cloud of pity and resignation,” he drawled in a mocking tone.

  “Poetic,” Veria groaned sardonically.

  “Let's get this over with,” Browan snapped, turning away from her, back toward the balcony, offering his arm for her again.

  She turned to face the balcony, as well, and took his hand, and they strode in a strained, silent progression to the union that neither of them truly wanted. Not anymore, at least. To a swell of applause and a concert of approving cheers, they emerged from the castle into the view of the eagerly awaiting crowd.

  -IV-

  The ceremony had passed in blur, which Veria was thankful for, as it would be easier for her to forget the whole thing ever happened. And as soon as she'd had access to the bubbly and wine at the banquet that followed the nuptials, she had drowned herself in several glasses of each, eager for their abilities to erase memories, as well.

  At some point, Browan must have tired of her drunkenness and had her escorted to bed, as she woke up the next morning with a splitting headache in bed. A familiar bed but not the one she had slept in for the past month. The bed in the King's suite.

  With blurry eyes, she could make out his figure beyond the open double doors, hunched over the desk in the library, as she had seen him many times. He must have heard her as she sat up, for he glanced at her momentarily, his eyes looking as tired as hers felt.

  “If your head is swelling, as I surmise it should be given your intake last night,” he said, his tone snarky and disapproving, “there is a tea on the bedside table. A secret recipe of Claryain's.”

  Veria glanced at it and was suddenly filled with a nervous dread—a thought that she had not yet had, and now that she'd had it, she felt much more insecure in her position.

  “Is it poisoned?” she muttered.

  Browan threw his head back and laughed. “No. Of course not, Veria. Why in the world would I poison you? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already.” He was telling the truth. “If I kill you, Plazic and Ladny—if he's still alive—will start a rebellion. Villicrey will spill the romantic fairy tale of your love to the commoners of the world, with me as the villain, and I'll have an uprising on my hands. No, I need you alive. Beside, I don't think I could bring myself to kill you, or watch you die,” he added, almost casually, as he turned back to whatever he was studying at his desk.

  Veria cocked her head at him, even though he could not see. Why would he say that? she wondered.

  “Someone else will have to do it,” he said, in a chillingly matter-of-fact tone given the subject. “I am sure there is a considerable list of people who would love to dispose of the Twin Dragons for me.”

  Veria shuddered at the talk of her 'disposal'. “You would expose yourself,” she grumbled.

  “Me? What did I have to do with it?” he stood up straight and faced her, placing a hand on his chest and sporting a facetious look of shock. “The former Commander of the Elemental Guard and her Lieutenant, a known lunatic who was graciously given a second chance, took advantage of the power they were given by the humble, peaceful King. Thank goodness he was able to uncover the truth before they caused more death and destruction.” He glared at her and grinned maliciously. “I would be a sympathetic victim and an undeniable hero if I exposed you two. Just admit that you are trapped. And drink your damn tea.”

  Reluctantly, she leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed the clay mug, pulling it up to her lips and sipping its once hot but now lukewarm contents into her mouth. Pleasantly surprised at the appealing flavor, since most of what Claryain concocted ended up pungent and bitter, Veria drained the slightly
sour herbal tea quickly and easily, eagerly awaiting the reprieve from her headache it supposedly granted.

  “Am I allowed a visit to the garden cottage today?” Veria asked, throwing the bedding off of her and jumping out of the bed.

  Browan sighed before standing up straight, turning toward her, then striding from the library into the bedroom, stopping right in front of her.

  “You are, Veria, but I want you to give serious thought to what I said,” he replied, his large frame towering over her, casting a shadow across her entire body.

  She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, but did not respond.

  “Let them move on. In fact, let them leave. You know what's coming. And once you bear my child—”

  “Excuse me?” she scoffed in a rage, but he ignored her interruption.

  “—you will have hardly any time to visit them. Think of how that will make them feel.”

  Veria's eyes went wide and her cheeks filled with flame. Not giving him even a split second to stop her, she threw her hand across his face. The pain of the sting in her hand couldn't even compare to the overwhelming satisfaction from knowing his cheek felt the same.

  After several moments of silence in which he rubbed his face and they stared each other down, Browan took a deep breath and composed himself.

  “Of course,” he said. “It is far too soon to be having such discussions. But you will have to come to terms with it at some point, Veria.”

  “Which part, Browan?” she snapped. “The part where you slowly tear me from my children, or the part where you make me lay with you and carry and deliver your child against my will? You are even more vile than I thought.”

  “You will provide me with an heir, Veria,” Browan said plainly. “And I would think you would have realized by now, given our discussion today and everything else that has transpired over the last month, that you have no grounds to protest anything I ask of you.”

  “I thought I had reached the depth of my disgust for you, but today you have proven me wrong.”

  Without giving him any more chance to speak, and before she gave into her desire to slam something heavy into the side of his head, she spun on her heels and stormed toward the door.

  “I have not dismissed you!” he called after her angrily.

  “I am dismissing myself!” she shouted without looking back.

  When she reached her bedroom, her entire body was trembling with anger. Quickly, shakily, she dressed for her lunchtime visit to her family, glad that at least the throb in her head was gone, even if it had been replaced by a rage so deep that it burned deep in her bones.

  What would he do if she didn't comply? she wondered. Threaten her? Harm her family? Likely...

  This had to end, all of it had to end, before it came to that.

  She would not bear another of his children. She could not even stomach the thought of sleeping with anyone other than Andon, and especially not Browan. It made her sick enough to think about the times she had been with him now that she knew all the terrible things he had done, and all the ways he had betrayed her.

  She finished dressing and tried to compose herself—the children always new when she was upset and it always put them in a cranky mood, and this was not an ordinary visit. Today's visit would be quite strenuous, and she needed all the focus and energy she could manage.

  Today, she and her mother would make a new talisman.

  When she arrived at the quaint little cottage at the farthest corner of the castle grounds, Irea was anxiously awaiting her, but Aleon had passed out in Turqa's lap, apparently from a long morning of crawling around the pond to chase some ducklings. Veria tried not to let the tidbit of information regarding her baby's development and progress distract her from being attentive to her daughter, and what needed to be done before she left...

  “Guess who I got to see last night, Momma?” Irea asked excitedly in her high-pitched, chiming voice as they sat cross-legged on the floor of the nursery, playing with dolls.

  “Who?” Veria asked dramatically, even though she knew the answer. Irea had said the same thing to her every day since Andon had started his dinner time visits.

  “Dada!” she answered, jumping to her feet and spinning in a circle with her hands in the air above her.

  “Oh goodness! How exciting!” Veria grinned at her. “I imagine he probably left crumbs all over the floor during dinner,” she added playfully.

  Irea giggled. “No, he didn't.”

  “Well, did he get soup all over his shirt?”

  “No, Momma!”

  “Hm, certainly he spilled milk in his lap?”

  “Momma, you're silly,” Irea laughed. “Dada is messy when he works outside but he is very clean at the table.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Veria said dramatically. “I would hate to think of Grandma Tani having to sit at the table with a sloppy eater! She is a stickler about manners, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” Irea replied, her eyes going wide as she nodded enthusiastically.

  “I heard that, you two,” Tanisca called from the tiny reading nook around the corner from the nursery. Veria and Irea covered their mouths and giggled quietly.

  “Dada told me to tell you that he loves you and he thought about you all day yesterday,” Irea said after they had quelled their conspiratorial tittering.

  She said that every day since Andon started visiting, too.

  Veria always replied the same: “Can you tell him that I see him every night in my dreams and I love him more with every day that goes by?”

  Irea nodded with a cute smile on her petal pink lips, her black curls, just like her father's, bouncing with the movement. Veria's breath caught in her throat at her resemblance to him, which grew more noticeable as she matured from a baby into a young lady.

  The two had a picnic lunch of creamed caro sandwiches and fresh braiberries from the bush in the garden, that Irea had picked herself, on the floor of the nursery, pretending every few bites to feed their finely dressed porcelain ladies and hand-sewn baby dolls. After they finished eating, Irea crawled into her lap and asked for a story, which was a custom of theirs from bedtime, but since her bedtime visits had been taken away, they had combined it with lunch—and, conveniently, Irea's afternoon nap.

  Veria had told Irea all the fairy tales and children's stories she remembered. She realized she would have to make something up until she had a chance to scour the Regal Library for more story time material.

  “Alright,” she said, softly clearing her throat and wrapping her arms around her petite little girl, “can I tell you a story about dragons, or will you be scared?”

  “Dada and Grandma Tani say dragons are beautiful,” Irea answered.

  Veria swallowed hard against a swell of emotion in her throat. “Then I will tell you the story of the Dragon Maiden. The Dragon Maiden used to be a human, a young lady, a lady with a beautiful house and wonderful friends. Her family wanted her to get married and move to a new house, but she decided to learn magic first.”

  Irea gasped, as she always did when 'magic' was mentioned. Or kissing.

  “What was her name?” Irea asked.

  Veria searched her mind quickly for a name. “Lady Jain,” she said with a grin, remembering the fake name she had given Lord Rames all those years ago. The day she met Andon...

  “Was Lady Jain pretty, Momma?” her daughter asked.

  “Well, she didn't really know, but a handsome man who lived in the...forest...thought she was,” Veria explained, trying to make it sound as much like a whimsical fairytale, and not a story of her own life, as she could. “And so did the wizard in the mountains who taught Lady Jain her magic.”

  “Was he scary and mean and old?” Irea asked.

  “Yes, very,” Veria said plainly. “The scariest and meanest and oldest. But he decided he liked Lady Jain and helped her become very good at magic. So good that soon many people wanted Lady Jain and the old, old, old mean wizard to come perform magic for them.
/>
  “They refused, but soon people were offering them treasures to come do their magic. Finally, a very rich and powerful Emperor persuaded them to come and do their magic for him. But, when they got to his palace, the Emperor placed a curse on them both, turning them into dragons!”

  “That wasn't nice,” Irea mumbled, her voice starting to sound tired.

  “No, it wasn't. And the Emperor made the dragons do bad magic. They were very sad, remembering when they used to be humans, remembering that they used to be able to dance and laugh and have friends and eat sandwiches. But now everyone was afraid of them, and the Lady Jain started to wish she had gotten married first and never gotten caught up in the world of magic, or with the evil Emperor.

  “But even as a frightening dragon who did bad magic, the man from the forest still thought Lady Jain was beautiful.”

  “What's his name?” Irea asked, her question followed by a long, deep yawn.

  “It's, um...his name is...Viomo.”

  “That is a strange name.”

  “Well, people who live in the forest have strange names, I guess. Shall I continue, or do you want to discuss everyone's names first?” Veria teased.

  “Continue,” Irea giggled.

  “Alright. One day, Lady Jain heard the Evil Emperor saying that Viomo had been captured by his brigands—”

  “What is a brigand?” Irea interrupted.

  “They are like thieves that work together and rob and kidnap people. On the roads between villages, I think,” Veria said. “So Viomo had been kidnapped, and Lady Jain knew she had to save him. She went deep into the forest and found the brigands' hideout, and because she was a dragon, a frightening, big dragon who breathed fire and roared, they all ran away! For once, she was glad that she was scary. She rescued Viomo, and to say thank you, he kissed her.”

  Irea gasped, as usual, and Veria suppressed a laugh.

  “When Viomo kissed Lady Jain, the Emperor's curse was lifted and she turned back into a human.”

  “Did they get married?” Irea asked.