“It’s not that big of a deal, but I think you should know . . . since you might be depending on my prophecies. I would’ve said something earlier, but every time I see you, you’re on your way to a meeting. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it on the day of your coronation though—”
“Sarza, it’s okay. Just say it, whatever it is.”
Sarza took a deep breath. “I finished that book you loaned me. I found out that seers go insane. All of them.”
Nora’s mouth dropped open. She knew little about seers; she hadn’t even realized they still existed until she met Sarza. Part of her wanted to gather the girl into a hug, but she got the feeling that wasn’t what she needed right now. “When will it happen?” she asked softly.
“Probably when I’m in my sixties or seventies. Maybe earlier.”
Relief washed over Nora, and she almost said something like, Oh, thank the stone, you still have decades. Somehow she caught the words before they escaped. “Sarza, I’m sorry.”
Sarza nodded, her jaw flexing as she clenched her teeth.
Nora continued, “You will always—always—have a home at this palace.”
Sarza blinked rapidly. “A home?” Hope and disbelief were thick in her voice.
Not for the first time, Nora wondered just how dreadful the seer’s life had been before arriving in Deroga. “Always. In fact, I need to hire a royal tailor.”
A hesitant half smile came over Sarza’s lips, but she didn’t respond.
Nora laughed. “I’m talking about you, Sarza. I’m asking you to be my tailor.”
Sarza nodded, eyes wide. “I will.”
As breakfast ended half an hour later, Hatlin entered and bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Nora stood and grinned at the new Captain of the Palace Guard. “Hatlin! Want some breakfast?”
“I already ate. There’s someone at the gate, asking to see you.”
“No appointments this morning, remember? It’s kind of a big day.”
“I told her that, but she’s insistent. I thought I should ask.” His lips curled with disgust, like he’d eaten something rotten. “It’s Sharai.”
Nora sighed. After her father’s abdication, a guard had informed her Sharai was being held in Dani’s office. Nora had sent the traitor away without speaking to her. Sharai had been sending her notes ever since, trying to set up a meeting.
While Nora hated to put a damper on her day, she needed to get this over with. “I’ll meet her in my office,” she said. “You can escort her there. And I want you to stay for the meeting.”
Hatlin nodded, but his scowl deepened. He’d never forgive Sharai for forsaking the princess who’d supported New Therro.
Nora crossed to him and took his arm. “Maybe she’ll try to assassinate me, and you can break her neck.”
That got a laugh out of him.
“Nora,” Dani said, “can you come to my room later this morning? I have something to give you.”
“Sure.”
As she and Hatlin walked through the residence, Nora said, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard back after our latest proposal?” Nora had been negotiating with New Therroan leaders ever since becoming queen. At first, they’d demanded immediate independence. She encouraged a gradual separation instead, which would allow the monarchy to invest into improvements in their province. The New Therroans had agreed to her general plan, but now they were negotiating a never-ending list of demands and details.
“Nothing yet,” Hatlin said, “but we’re close, Your Majesty.”
Nora let out a quiet sigh. It had taken less than ten days for her to negotiate Cellerin’s first-ever trade agreement with Deroga. If only the New Therroan leaders could be as agreeable as Eira and the other trogs.
Once they reached the palace’s administrative wing, Hatlin left to fetch Sharai at the gate, while Nora continued to the office that had once belonged to her father.
To her credit, Sharai didn’t grovel when she arrived. She performed a quick, businesslike bow. Nora stood behind her desk, not offering the other woman a seat. “What is it, Sharai?”
“Your Majesty, I’ve come to offer my support. We worked together well in the past, and I’d be honored to do the same now.”
Nora kept her face impassive. “I learned a great deal from you, Sharai.”
The woman nodded.
“I learned what loyalty isn’t,” Nora said. “I learned that a woman three times my age doesn’t necessarily know a thing about relationships.” She gave Sharai a long, impassive stare. “And right now, I’m learning the meaning of desperation.”
“Your Majesty—”
Nora cut her off. “Thank you for all you taught me. However, I’m afraid I don’t have the stomach for any more of your—what did you call it? Support.” She shifted her gaze to Hatlin, who was standing by the door, not attempting to hide his broad smile. “Escort her to the gate, please.”
“With pleasure.” Hatlin took the woman’s arm and walked her to the door.
Just before they crossed the threshold, Nora said, “Oh, Sharai?” The woman turned. Iron entered Nora’s voice. “Several of my advisors said the best place for you is in prison. If I hear even a whiff of you working against me, I’ll agree with them.” She nodded at Hatlin, who took Sharai away.
Nora sat on the edge of her big desk. “That was fun.” Her smile disappeared when she thought of her next task, which would be far less enjoyable.
She exited the administrative building and took a deep breath of the crisp, clear air, waving at workers preparing for the coronation. It was a beautiful day, but she wished it were spring instead of fall. Perpetual darkness had killed much of the palace’s plant life, and Nora yearned to step on soft grass instead of mushy dirt. Local plant lysters could’ve remedied that for her, but they were all helping at the farms the king had burned. With a portion of her nation’s food supply on the line, Nora was more than willing to deal with dirty shoes.
Squaring her shoulders, she strode to the palace security office. Her father was in a cell, but she planned to move him soon to a vacant office her aides were converting into a bedroom. He’d still be guarded there, but it would feel less like a prison.
Ulmin had experienced two weeks of violent withdrawals. Once his cravings had abated, he’d spent a week talking to himself day and night, planning senseless escapes. After that, he’d calmed, reaching a state of contented, childlike confusion.
The other eight Overseers, who currently lived in the palace’s employee dorms, were experiencing recoveries similar to Krey’s. All their needs were met, including group sessions led by a woman who specialized in helping people who battled addiction. Krey often joined their meetings.
When Nora arrived in the security office, her father was hunched over the little desk they’d brought in for him, eating breakfast. He gave her a sweet smile. “Hello, Ambrel.”
Nora’s hands came to her mouth. She spun around so he wouldn’t see her shuddering breaths. When she calmed and faced him again, he was focused on his plate, using the side of his fork to cut a piece of sausage.
He looked up and smiled again, this time showing no recognition. After swallowing, he said, “Good morning. I’m Ulmin.”
Relieved, she tried to converse with him, getting mostly nods and gentle smiles in return. He finished his meal and went to bed, facing away from her. Feeling spent, Nora left the building.
Her energy returned a few minutes later when she reached her aunt’s quarters. Dani answered her knock and beckoned her into the sitting room. “Sarza is taking a walk. It’s just you and me. Have a seat. I made cookies yesterday.”
Nora sat in a chair by the fireplace. Dani set a plate of cookies on the low table next to Nora. “I’ll be right back.”
As Nora moaned over a perfectly soft cookie, Dani scurried to her room. She returned with a beautiful box. The sides were a deep, glossy brown, and the top was inlaid with various shades of wood in a delightfully complex geometrical pattern.
Dani sat, holding t
he box, which was large enough to fill her lap. “When you were gone, I often woke at night. I can’t tell you how many times I wished I’d given you this. I was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance. Today seemed like the perfect day.”
Nora’s heart pounded. “What is it?”
“Letters your mother wrote me. They start when she first came to Cellerin City. They tell the story of your parents’ courtship and marriage, and your birth and childhood.”
Nora’s chin quivered, tears springing to her eyes. Her mother’s heart was in that box. It took everything in her not to grab it from Dani’s lap.
“I waited,” Dani said, “because there are personal details in here, things your mother probably never pictured her daughter reading. But in recent months, I’ve realized you need to see your father—and yourself—through your mother’s eyes.”
“Aunt Dani . . .” Nora couldn’t get out another syllable.
“Don’t read them today,” Dani said as she transferred the box to Nora’s lap. “Once you start, you won’t want to stop. And you’ll probably cry the whole way through.”
Nora sniffled and laughed. “What do you mean? I’m clearly handling this with aplomb.”
Dani took her hand. “Tears are good, Nora. I’ve got a lot of them to catch up on.” She skillfully changed the subject, helping her niece focus on the details of the day instead of the letters in her lap.
At last, Nora stood. “I’d like to spend some time with Krey before I get ready.”
Dani wrapped her in an awkward hug, the wooden box between them. “Your mother would be happy to see you in love. I am too.”
38
It’s barely dawn. And I’m awake next to a broad-shouldered, sleeping man. His normally perfect hair is messy. His lips are begging me to kiss them. As tempting as it is, I’ll give him the gift of sleep while I give myself, and you, the gift of a letter.
Many of my memories of yesterday have swirled together in a joyful blur, but some moments are bright and clear, embossed in my mind for eternity. I’ll share one of them with you.
During the wedding, while the emissary droned on and on, I held Ulmin’s hands and looked out at the crowd. You were crying (don’t deny it), but Dad had you beat, his shoulders shaking with sobs as he watched me with the sweetest expression on his face. I met the gazes of friends, strangers, and the queen. Their obvious joy couldn’t come close to matching mine.
I brought my attention back to Ulmin. His eyes were full of adoration. Then his forehead wrinkled a bit, and his face took on the expression he wore when I was sick, a fearful look that begged, Please don’t ever leave me.
And I don’t intend to. Because, Dani, if I did, I’m not sure he’d survive it.
-Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder
Dated Lalan 7, 180 PD
Nora walked across the hallway to Krey’s guest room. When she’d invited him to stay there so she could have quick access to her top advisor, he’d balked. “No special treatment. I’ll stay in the dorms.” After the third time she sent an aide to fetch him in the middle of the night so he could help her solve a crisis, he’d finally relented.
He didn’t respond to her knock. Maybe he was sleeping in.
Back in her quarters, she set the box on the desk in her sitting room. She opened her bedroom door to find Krey in her bed, propped on pillows, reading a book. Sunlight settled on his warm, brown skin, and a breeze from the open windows ruffled his dark hair.
Nora grinned. “You look good like that.”
“What, reading?”
“No, lying in my bed.” She sent an exaggerated eyebrow waggle his way.
He laughed and put his book down. “C’mere.”
Nora sat on the bed, facing him. Krey must’ve seen the serious look in her eyes, because he straightened and asked, “What is it?”
“I made a decision about the stone.” It was already in a new case—this one sealed on all sides, so no one could get to the powerful artifact without breaking the glass. But Nora had spent the last month agonizing over where to put it.
“I had to go back to basics,” Nora continued. “From as early as I can remember, my parents taught me the Abrios family mandate: Tell the story and protect the stone. I’ve even heard that those instructions first came from the seer who tried to stop the apocalypse. I could protect the stone by hiding it, but it’s radioactive. Someday, someone would find it, like they did two hundred years ago. Who knows what would happen then?”
“So you’ll keep it here?”
“Yes, but I’m taking it out of the chapel. We’ll build a new visitor center. I’m sick of the stone being tied up with religion. You say God is generous. I don’t know if I’ll ever be spiritual, but I know one thing for sure. I could never believe that a generous God killed most of the people on our planet in one day. I don’t know what the stone is, but I can’t keep telling my people it’s connected to God.” She waited, dying to know what he thought. At last, she grabbed both his hands. “Well? If you think I’m wrong, tell me!”
He gave her a soft smile. “Nothing you do will guarantee the stone isn’t misused again. There’s no perfect way to handle this. But your decision is wise. That has to be enough.”
She hated the uncertainty in his voice, but she’d rather he be honest than tell her what she wanted to hear. After a deep breath, she continued, “Then there’s the matter of telling the story. We’ve kept alive my ancestors’ memories of The Day, but now we have a new story about the stone. One that only a few of us know.”
“A dangerous story,” Krey said.
“It is. And I won’t share it with the world. But I will tell my children, when they’re old enough. They need to know how the stone turned a strong man into a weak one.” Nora swallowed, the image of her father’s bowed back stark in her mind. “I won’t hide the truth of the stone’s power. But if any monarch takes advantage of it again, the rest of the Abrios family will have the right to take their crown away.”
Krey tucked her hair behind her ear, then rested his hand on her cheek. “You make a good queen, Nora.”
She laughed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“None of us do.” He pulled her into a tight hug, then released her. “I brought you something.”
“Can’t we just stay in bed for the rest of the day?”
“Any other day, I’d jump at the chance.” He got up. “I’ll bring it to you.”
He crossed to a chair at the side of her room and retrieved a flat wooden box, smaller and plainer than the one Dani had given her. Returning to the bed, he sat and placed the box on her lap. “Open it.”
She pulled off the lid and gasped. Set atop glossy, blue fabric was her father’s crown, a simple band of gold. A metalsmith had measured her weeks ago so he could adjust the crown. Then she’d forgotten all about it.
“When it came in, I asked Hatlin if I could bring it to you,” Krey said. “He almost didn’t let me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Well, you are a highly suspicious character.”
He grinned. “Do you want to try it on?”
She lifted it. It was heavier than she’d expected, and its cool surface warmed quickly as she held it. Her breaths came faster, and an irrational fear shot into her.
Krey’s warm hand found her knee. “What is it?”
“This crown . . . the things it meant to my father . . . what if I become like him?”
He gave her a soft smile. “If you want a fresh start, you could wear something else. What about that fancy crown you wore in Tirra the day we met?”
Nora swallowed hard, blinking. “It’s not a crown,” she whispered. “It’s a headdress.” That’s what her father had always said. “I want to wear this one. I want to make it mean something different.”
“I like that idea. Should I put it on you? Make sure it fits?”
She placed it back in the box. “It’ll fit. It doesn’t feel right to wear it until the ceremony.” A mischievous smile took over her lips. “B
ut I need to get dressed, and I’ll want help with my buttons.”
“Okay, I can go get one of the staff—”
She shoved him, and he fell backwards onto the bed, laughing. “Stay here,” she said.
She walked into her closet and closed the door. Hanging from a hook next to the window was the dress Krey’s Aunt Evie had made. For the last month, Osmius had traveled back and forth between Cellerin City and Tirra, carrying measurements, sketches, and messages. He’d grumbled that being a courier was beneath him, but when Nora had offered to find a local designer instead, he’d insisted on helping—just this once.
For a solid minute, all Nora did was stare at the glossy, Cellerinian-blue gown. It had capped sleeves and was fitted through the waist, flaring into a wide, floor-length skirt that made Nora desperate to dance. Sunlight glimmered on rhinestones that started at one shoulder and swooped down over the bodice in an ever-widening band, before scattering across the skirt.
Nora couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a dress. After slipping off her clothes, she pulled it from its hanger and turned it around, grinning in delight at the low back. Letting the dress puddle on the floor, she stepped into it and pulled it up, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Without the buttons fastened, her skin felt terribly, wonderfully exposed.
She walked to the door, then turned around, her back to her bedroom, before opening it.
Krey was already standing there. His hand trailed up her spine, from her hips to the base of her neck. “Wow.”
“Wait’ll you see the front.”
“I’m not sure I need to. You’ve always looked great from the back.”
She tried to slap him, but it was impossible with him behind her.
“And from the front!” he protested. “From any angle, really.”
“Button me up, Krey.”
His fingers felt electric as they brushed against her lower back, slowly fastening each button. When he was done, he ran both hands up her soft skin. “Turn around.”
The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3) Page 40
