Queen of the Earth: Book V in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  “He will follow each of your commands without fail,” Veria said. “I'm positive of that.”

  And she was sure of it. Strelzar would do everything that was commanded of him. He would just also happen to be commanding his network of spies at the same time...

  “Alright,” Browan groaned. “If this is what you want, we can try it. But if anything seems fishy, I will shut it down.”

  “Of course, Browan,” Veria nodded. “I understand.”

  “Find your Council puppets and bring me their names so I can have some background research done on them,” he instructed. “I will have Plazic escorted to Tarddiad with the kingdom's top architects so they can begin work on the Shrine as soon as the Council is approved.”

  “Thank you, Browan,” Veria said softly.

  “Thank you, Veria,” Browan said, then went about eating the rest of his dinner in silence, looking over his maps as he did.

  Veria ate slowly, battling the nausea that bubbled in her stomach at the thought of what would happen when dinner was over.

  When they were both finished, Browan stood and gathered his papers, giving his order to the footman that came to clear their emptied plates. “I want two glasses of bubbly brought to my room in half an hour. Veria,” he added, shifting to look down at her, “I must make a stop off in the observatory tower. Meet me in my room in half an hour, please.”

  She shivered and suppressed a retch. “Of course.”

  Browan nodded and left, and Veria had to fight to keep from bursting into tears. She ran to her room and let as many of them out as she could in the small window of time she had before giving herself to him. She knew she couldn't cry during...she'd have to get all the tears out beforehand. She wailed and bawled, draped across her bed as the sobs shook her whole body.

  But...she thought, trying to quell the crying, he had given her what she wanted. He had agreed to her requests in the bargain. Now, she just had to figure out how to end this before this baby came, she thought as she rolled over onto her back and caressed her flat stomach that would be anything but flat in a few months. She smiled through the tears and took a deep breath.

  At least the baby was Andon's. That is what she wanted. And if she was protecting his child, she could get through anything. She sat up off the bed and walked to the vanity, wiping away the wetness from her cheeks and touching up her makeup to hide the red splotches that always tended to accompany the sobs and tears.

  Then, she made her way to the King's room.

  Over the course of the next several days, Veria was instructed to meet him in his room shortly after dinner every night. She'd picture Andon as she lie on her back in the King's bed. Thankfully, Browan didn't try to be romantic about it, either—it was cold and business like. She cringed every time she felt the warmth of the finish inside her, but knowing that she was already carrying Andon’s child is what got her through each night.

  She was solemn and dejected during the daytime, always in a harrowed daze from trying to forget the previous night and dreading the upcoming one.

  After five nights, instead of instructing her to come to his room after dinner, Browan declared that she would meet with Claryain in one week. Veria passed the time practicing her deception skill and finding Magers to nominate for the new Council, not worried at all what the result of her visit with the physician would be.

  When the morning finally came for her appointment, Veria ate her breakfast quickly and made her way down to the infirmary. Browan was there waiting when she entered the room, arms crossed in front of his chest, and her heart immediately dropped at just the sight of him.

  “Have a seat, Your Majesty,” Claryain said with a warm smile.

  Veria sat on a cot near her. Claryain's hands were like icicles against her skin and she shivered.

  “Sorry for the cold hands, dear,” she squeaked in apology. “But I do have good news.”

  “You do?” Browan asked, his spine straightening and arms unfurled.

  “Veria is definitely with child,” Claryain said with a pleased grin and affirmative nod.

  Browan's face lit up momentarily, and Veria tried to show some sign of approval, but these were not the people she wanted to celebrate with—she'd had her celebration of the news already with the man she loved, the real father of the child.

  “The people of Londess will be so pleased to hear the news,” Browan said, reigning in his apparent excitement and switching back to a more cool, strategic tone. “We shall throw a gala to announce. I will send a message to Lord Rames to let him know that you will not be attending his upcoming ball.”

  “What? Why?” Veria asked, slightly panicked. She had been anxious to see Rames, in case he had been in contact with Strelzar and had new clues.

  “I don't want you on your feet too much,” Browan said. “I'd prefer it if you rest as much as possible.”

  “Browan,” Veria protested, “I have done this twice already. I think I have it under control without being treated like a porcelain doll.”

  Claryain giggled, and it stuck in her nose when she tried to stifle it at a glare from the King.

  “She's right, King Browan, Your Majesty,” Claryain said once she stopped her tittering. “Her body is used to this, and many women prefer to remain active in the early stages as it better prepares them for the strenuous nature of the later stages.”

  “You know,” Veria added in a sarcastic drawl, “the part where we turn into whales that could envy the grandest catches of the Southern Sea fishermen.”

  “Look, I don't want you to go alone, and I can't make it,” Browan said, crossing his arms again and shaking his head. “We will move it here, to the castle. Lord Rames will understand. The 'Queen Appreciation Ball' will be a part of the announcement celebration. You will still get to wear your very odd feather dress.”

  Veria bit her lip to keep from grinning and laughing out loud. If only he knew the real story behind her 'very odd' feather dress...

  “Is that satisfactory?” he added with a tilt of his head.

  “Yes, Browan, thank you,” Veria muttered in reply. “I just didn't want to offend Lord Rames after his kind gesture, that's all.”

  “Neither would I,” Browan said with a conspiratorial glance at her.

  Now he thought they were partners, she realized with a flood of disgust. He thought she was a willing accomplice to the strategy of public opinion and distraction from conflict. Which, in a way, she was...a thought that made her shudder.

  The things she had done just to get what she wanted. Just to keep this child. Just to get a meeting with Strelzar.

  Had she dug the hole deeper while trying to climb out of it? she thought.

  “I will make all the preparations,” Browan announced as he turned to leave the infirmary. “The celebration will take place in three days.”

  When he was gone, Veria slumped forward and clutched her temples.

  “You know,” Claryain said softly, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder and giving her a knowing wink, “I have heard many Regal Londess women and their physicians praise the relaxing tranquility and revitalizing elemental vigor of the jungle during their pregnancies.”

  Veria smirked. “Well, you know, being Queen is quite stressful. I think I will need a few trips to the jungle to relieve the stress and keep my energy and health.”

  “Good thing Tarddiad is just a short day trip away,” Claryain smiled.

  “Yes, how convenient,” Veria replied, standing from the cot and smoothing her skirt. “You will pass this professional expertise on to His Majesty I trust?” she added as she made to leave the infirmary.

  “Of course, Queen Veria,” Claryain said. And just before she was out of the room, Claryain confirmed what Veria suspected. “Elanza lis cabarus ali forgeo.”

  She turned back and gave a quick grin to Claryain, and then left, heading back to her room to practice the deception she would surely need soon—soon, she would meet with Strelzar...

  -XI-

&nb
sp; The announcement ceremony exhausted Veria, though she would never admit it. Browan was in such a great mood from the high spirits of the people, especially the Regalship, that she knew now was the time to act, and she couldn’t show any signs of being tired or he'd insist she rest instead of do what she needed to do—go to Tarddiad.

  Lord Rames commented on her dress, and they shared a brief dance, but he had no new information for her, which spurred her need to see Strelzar in person even more. She was growing impatient and anxious. She had a ticking clock now—this baby could not be born during war, and she didn't want it born to the King at all. They had to complete this plan before then.

  At dinner, the night after the gala, Veria confidently brought up the subject.

  “Browan, are my selections for the Council satisfactory?” Veria asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Browan said. “Just fine. A bit on the young side, but I suppose that's the only way to get anyone without existing connections nowadays.”

  Veria and her mother had scoured every registry they could get their hands on, and Turqa had visited several villages in the kingdom looking for Magers who were accepting apprentices, or for information of any abroad. They had finally come up with a list of four, one from each element. Other than that, it was hard to find anyone who hadn't already been snatched up by Browan for the Elemental Guard or didn't have political ties or a government appointed position in their kingdom.

  “And construction has started?” Veria asked.

  “I believe groundbreaking is set for the end of this week, actually,” Browan muttered with a mouthful of food.

  “Well, I should attend!” Veria suggested with enthusiasm.

  Browan surveyed her in silence while he finished chewing and swallowing his food.

  “Yes, I suppose you should,” he said slowly. “This is your initiative, as Queen—one of us should be there, anyway—it will look good to the public.”

  “You don't seem convinced,” Veria said.

  “I'm worried about you traveling, that's all,” he replied.

  No alarms sounded in her head...his concern was genuine. He was not lying.

  “We shall go slowly,” Veria assured him. “And I will get plenty of rest, before, during, and after.”

  “There isn't much for accommodations on the island yet—I mean, are you sure this is safe?” he asked, cocking his head. “I should send someone with you.”

  “Claryain says that the jungle is actually quite wonderful for pregnancy. I'd be happy with just a tent on the beach,” Veria stated plainly. “And if you want someone to come with me, maybe she can.”

  “I'd prefer Pascha, honestly,” Browan said.

  “She's not a trained physician, Browan,” Veria argued, wanting anyone but Pascha to accompany her.

  “She knows quite a bit, Veria, she studied with your stepfather for several years, you know that.”

  “Why can't he come with me, then? You know he is the best physician—”

  “Pascha will accompany you,” Browan interjected firmly. “That's my final decision. Is there a problem with that?”

  Veria's fists clenched under the table and her heart pounded nervously. “None at all,” she said. “I just don't want her presence to cause me undue stress. She was partially responsible for my previous miscarriage, you know.”

  Browan seemed to take her statement into account, but shook his head and took a deep swig of meade. “You will be just fine. You can leave first thing in the morning. You can go half way tomorrow and rest—stay overnight in North Chadron, I'll send word to Lord Rames—then do the second half the following day.”

  Veria nodded as Browan finished his dish and stood to leave.

  “I'm sending Pascha to keep you and Plazic in check,” he added, glaring down at her. “And as soon as you return, you will meet with my verifiers.”

  She stayed rigid in her seat and tried not to show any signs of anxiety, though under her skin, it crawled and burned through every inch of her.

  “Of course, Browan,” she said with a nod. “I want you to be sure that you have nothing to worry about.”

  He dropped his fists down onto the table in front of her and leaned in close to her, his hot breath blasting against her face. “If I find out that this Tarddiad business is all a ruse so you and your crazy old dragon can plot against me, I will have him hanging at the end of rope so quickly your head will spin,” Browan growled. “And as soon as my child is born, you'll swing from a noose, as well. So will your precious Andon. And your mother, and your stepfather. And I will give your orphaned children to the Separatist Army—they are always in need of lookouts.”

  Veria swallowed hard but stared him down and didn't flinch, despite wanting to strangle him right then and there.

  “Are we clear?” he snarled as he stood up and backed away.

  “As clear as a cloudless morning,” Veria replied coolly.

  “Good,” he said as he strode out of the dining hall. “Enjoy your trip.”

  The trip was slow and tedious, and Pascha hardly uttered three words to her the whole two days, other than to congratulate her on the impending new arrival. Veria knew she felt terrible about what had happened at Longberme. She had made Raken stop the freeze effect as soon as she sensed that Veria was pregnant, but it was too late.

  Veria thought for a moment about how strong Pascha must be as the two prepared to exit the boat at the docks in Tarddiad. She hadn't had to touch Veria to sense the baby, and most Water Magers did need physical contact to perform a scan. She marveled at her power before reminding herself that they were on opposite sides with a sigh.

  “What?” Pascha asked. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Yes, I am just ready to be off this boat,” Veria lied.

  “Ah,” she replied. “Well, I don't mind it.”

  Veria didn't have to stretch her imagination too far to guess why a Water Mager might like being on the ocean. But Veria had never liked it, generally feeling quite queasy in the sway, though she realized that almost every time she had traveled on a boat she had been pregnant, including now, so that may have made it worse.

  They docked and the crew helped them with their luggage. Immediately, the scene on the island was a stark contrast to her previous visit years prior. Before it was a desolate beach leading up to an oppressive, thick jungle. Other than a few fishermen right along the shore, it had been unpopulated, besides Virro in his shack right at the edge of the trees.

  But now, it was a buzzing, thrumming, lively parade of people—construction workers, architects, advisers, historians, cooks, maids, and children. An entire street of permanent housing had sprung up along the edge of the jungle, and temporary housing in the form of tents littered the beach along the docks. There were at least a hundred people.

  A hundred.

  And she only cared about one.

  “I need to find the project supervisor,” Veria said as soon as they were on the beach, pulling aside a man who was unloading supplies from the ship.

  “The construction site is in the middle of the island,” the man said. “Follow the road and it will take you straight to it. He's always there.”

  Veria looked down. The road, which had been a disheveled mess and hardly recognizable before, was clear as day and newly paved, starting as wooden planks from the docks until it met up with the houses and turned into a stone path into the jungle.

  “I doubt he'll be happy to see you tagging along,” Veria stated.

  “I'm not afraid of him,” Pascha said plainly.

  Veria shrugged and sighed, wondering why she was even talking to Pascha in the first place. She took off down the wood planked path without another word, and Pascha quickly followed. Soon swallowed by the dense foliage and dim emerald haze of the jungle, they walked in silence, Veria's heart racing with anticipation...

  Finally, the path led up a hill onto a plateau overlooking the beach they had just come from. It had been cleared of all trees, and a large crew had started di
gging down to connect with the catacombs below, which featured the historical records and was the only part of the previous shrine that wasn't destroyed. More tents were strewn about the plateau, and a large table sat near the site covered in breads and fruits and buckets of water and flasks of meade.

  As they approached the site, she saw him—standing at the mouth of the catacombs, peering down with his arms crossed over his chest, barking orders at the men in the chamber below.

  “All the documents in that structure are more important than any of you—than all of you put together—do you understand?” Strelzar snapped. “If you ruin so much as one piece of parchment, I'll have you thrown into the ocean with no clothes on.”

  “Why with no clothes on?” Veria asked with a smirk as soon as she was close enough.

  He whipped around to face her, and his perfect lips spread into a foxy grin, and his dark eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle as they narrowed into a devilish smolder.

  “For humiliation, of course,” he answered, matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, of course,” she replied, pursing her lips into a playful pout and raising her brows at him.

  “I see you brought a friend,” he sighed, glancing behind her at Pascha.

  Veria rolled her eyes at him. “Well, you know me,” she said, “can't go anywhere without bringing a friend along.”

  “Ha!” Strelzar laughed, throwing his head back. “You used to keep better company, Birdie. I remember the fellow that used to follow you around. What a dashingly handsome man! What ever happened to him?”

  “I am not sure,” Veria said softly as she walked closer to him, until they were standing only inches apart. His body shifted as if he were being drawn into hers, and his face turned serious and studied hers as if he were seeing it for the first time. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “I hear he has finally gone crazy,” Strelzar whispered as he reached out and cupped her face in his smooth, ageless palm. He swallowed hard and dropped his forehead against hers. “What are you doing, Birdie?” he rasped, his voice thick with pain.