by Rachel Aaron
“Not so fast,” Eli said. “You can’t go see the queen like that.”
Josef looked down at his shirt. “Like what?”
Eli sighed and walked over to the mirror on the washstand, tilting it until Josef could see his whole body. Blades were strapped everywhere they could go. Hilts were visible at his sleeves, neck, waist, and boots. Bandoleers of throwing knives were crushing his dress shirt and his short swords were wearing a matched set of grooves into his new belt. Finally, there was the Heart of War itself, the wrapped hilt poking up high over his shoulder, just in case anyone wasn’t intimidated enough by the rest of it.
Josef crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”
“Josef,” Eli pleaded. “You asked me to stay and help you be a prince. This is step one: not looking like a murderer.”
“I’m not going unarmed,” Josef said.
“No one’s going to challenge you to a duel in the palace.”
Josef snorted. “You obviously don’t know Osera.”
“Fine, fine,” Eli said, throwing up his hands. “One sword, but you’re leaving the rest.”
Josef planted his feet, daring him. Eli glared right back, and then he started to push.
In the end, they compromised on one short sword, all the hidden knives, and the Heart, which Josef absolutely refused to leave behind. Eli would have kept going, but it was nearing midmorning and his plan of not making the queen wait was already an hour off schedule. He tapped his foot impatiently as Josef slowly divested himself of the knives he’d agreed to leave, and then he pushed the swordsman into the hall.
The soldiers were more than happy to escort the prince and his friend to the queen’s chamber. The castle was bustling with morning activity. Servants, their arms full with trays, linens, and other vitals of a noble household, ran up and down the narrow halls, pressing themselves into the wall to make way when Josef and Eli passed. Eli watched the comings and goings with a keen eye. The queen ran a tight ship. Every servant was well groomed and well dressed in simple livery of good quality materials right down to their polished boots. It was little details like this, far more than any ostentation, that confirmed Osera’s wealth in Eli’s mind. He also noticed that everyone, even the servants, was armed with at least a dagger. He filed that tidbit away for questioning later. At the moment, though, he had more important blanks to fill in.
“Josef,” he whispered, leaning toward the swordsman as they walked down the hall. “If I’m going to help you be a prince, there are a few things I need from you.”
“Like what?” Josef said, visibly annoyed by the slow pace the guards set.
“Let’s start with the princess,” Eli said. “I’m guessing you two knew each other before all this?”
Josef nodded. “She’s Lenette’s girl.”
“Lenette?” Eli said. “The queen’s maid?”
“Lady-in-waiting,” Josef corrected him. “Lenette is my mother’s confidant and best friend. Has been for years. Adela’s her daughter. We grew up together.”
“I see,” Eli said. “Your mother married you to your childhood sweetheart in the hopes you wouldn’t complain as much.”
“We weren’t sweethearts,” Josef snapped. “But otherwise you’re right.”
“Well, at least she tried to make you happy,” Eli said, scratching his chin. “That’s more than most royal mothers.”
Josef didn’t say anything to that, and they walked the rest of the way to the queen’s chamber in silence. But when they got there, the queen was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her lady-in-waiting, the lovely woman in black from before, greeted them in the queen’s entry chamber.
“Lenette,” Josef said with a stiff nod as the soldiers left. “Where’s the queen?”
“Your mother is unwell this morning, Prince Thereson,” Lenette said, returning to the little table where she’d been sitting when they’d arrived.
“Let me see her,” Josef said, crossing his arms.
Lenette took her time, focusing her attention on the leaves in the little stone grinder in front of her. “The queen’s health is a delicate thing,” she said at last, pushing the grinding wheel until the leaves were crushed into a fine powder. “Her rest is not to be disturbed.”
“I’m sure she’ll want to hear this,” Eli said, cutting in before Josef could say anything he’d regret. “Can’t you take us to see her?”
“No,” Lenette said without looking up as she emptied the freshly ground leaves into the glass jar at her elbow. “Since you’re here, I assume you mean to tell her that the prince has decided to stay in Osera and do his duty?”
Eli and Josef exchanged a look.
“More or less,” Eli said.
“Good,” Lenette said with a nod. “I’ll tell her when she wakes up.”
“Listen,” Josef growled. “I don’t care how far you’ve crawled into the queen’s ear since I left—probably more than you should have, considering you convinced her to marry your daughter into the royal line of Osera. But you’re not so important that you can keep me from seeing my own mother.”
Josef’s anger was usually enough to turn people into jelly, but Lenette remained calm and collected.
“I’m not the one keeping you from your mother,” she said. “These are her doctor’s orders. If she is to be fit enough to appear at court today, she must be allowed to rest undisturbed. If you have an issue with that, the doctor keeps his office on the third floor. Take it up with him. Now, if you still feel the need to brag about your sudden decision to return to your duties, I suggest you find Adela. As your wife, it’s her job to take an interest in whatever you have to say. She’s at the guard keep, overseeing drill.” Lenette gave him a slow smile. “My daughter is a fine guard captain and a dutiful child, which is more than I can say for some.”
Josef’s hand moved toward the blade at his hip in a way that would make anyone who knew him at all dive for cover, but Lenette just smiled and stood up, carrying her pot of ground herbs to the tea service against the far wall.
“I must take the queen her medicine,” she said, tapping a spoonful of the ground leaves onto a silver mesh strainer before pouring a measure of hot water through the leaves into the cup below. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Prince Thereson?”
Josef turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Eli followed, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see the queen’s lady-in-waiting smile as she blew on the steaming water. She was placing the cup on a serving tray when the door closed and Eli saw no more.
“Charming lady,” he said, running to catch up with Josef as the guards fell in beside them. “Has she always been like that?”
“Long as I’ve known her,” Josef answered with a growl.
“So, is she noble?” Eli said. “A cousin or something?”
“This is Osera, not Zarin,” Josef sneered. “We don’t marry our cousins. Lenette’s not even Oseran. She married into money, turned that into a court invitation, and then wormed her way into the queen’s favor. She’s been glued to mother’s side for as long as I can remember. People used to complain about a foreigner having so much power, but she’s been here so long now, I don’t think people even remember she’s not from the island.”
“Time changes many things,” Eli said. “Are you going to see your wife, then?”
“And prove Lenette right?” Josef said with a snort. “Not a chance. We’re going to use our time before court to look for Nico. I’d rather see her than Adela any day.”
Eli smiled. “I’m sure Nico would be delighted to hear that.”
“Why?”
“No reason,” Eli said, rubbing his forehead with a long, deep sigh. “Lead on.”
Josef shrugged and started walking faster. They ditched the guards on the next turn and went out on the rooftops to start their search.
After two hours of looking and nothing to show for it, Josef suddenly announced it was time to go to court. Tempting as it was, Eli resisted the urge to point out that the
y still had plenty of time before the ceremony began. For one, it might very well be time in Josef’s mind. He was famously insistent about showing up early. Two, Eli had lived with the swordsman long enough to know that you didn’t try reasoning with him when his face was set in that particular expression of cold rage.
As it turned out, it was good that they went down when they did. Despite being nearly an hour before court was scheduled to start, the throne room of Osera was already packed.
“I see you come by your predilection for early arrivals naturally,” Eli said, poking his head through a side door to survey the scene. “I think we’re the last ones here.”
Josef didn’t answer. He was standing by the door with his hands on his knives, looking suspiciously pale.
Eli poked him in the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Josef said, taking a deep breath. “It’s just been a while since I had to deal with this idiocy.”
Eli gaped at him. “Josef, you’re the wielder of the Heart of War. You’ve fought Berek Sted and the Lord of Storms. How can you be nervous about facing some nobles?”
“I’m not nervous,” Josef snapped. “I just need a moment.”
“It’s a room full of rich, soft, old men!” Eli cried. “It’s not an army.”
“I’d prefer an army,” Josef said. “You don’t know what those people are like. If they would fight me openly, everything would be fine. But they don’t. They just talk.”
Eli smiled and held up a finger. “Just relax and remember the first rule of thievery: Shown weakness is your only weakness. Go in there with your head held high and leave the talking to me. That’s why I’m here, remember?”
Josef released the death grip on his sword long enough to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Just promise me you won’t turn this into one of your overcomplicated Eli things,” he muttered. “Please.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eli said, taking Josef by the arm and steering him toward the door. “Chin up. Try to look princely.”
Josef nodded and set his features in the steely expression of a man bravely facing his own death. Eli grimaced, but didn’t comment. Bad as it was, it was better than the cold rage from earlier. He gave Josef a firm push, and the two of them walked into the hall.
The Oseran throne room had what Eli thought of as a paranoid setup, usually found in kingdoms with a violent history. It was all one large room with a row of narrow support columns forming a corridor up the middle, but rather than placing the throne on a free-standing platform as in Mellinor or other, more peaceable kingdoms, Osera’s throne was flush with the back wall, leaving no space for attack from the rear.
The throne room had no wings, but there was a gallery running around the upper level that was already full. Above the gallery, a line of thin windows carved the bright island sunlight into slices that struck the crowd at regular intervals, painting the hall in stripes of light. Down on the floor, the people were better dressed than in the gallery, but Eli saw none of the sort of ostentation normally found in the court of such a wealthy country. There was little jewelry to be seen, even on the older women. Dresses were muted colors, dark reds, greens, or navy. The men wore black almost exclusively, and everyone, even the women, was armed.
“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about the knives, now,” Eli whispered.
“What did you expect?” Josef said, pushing his way toward the throne. “This is Osera. They didn’t call my grandfather Bloody Liechten because of his contributions to the arts.”
Eli grimaced. Parts of Josef’s personality were becoming more understandable by the second.
“I’m surprised no one’s come up to you yet,” he said, looking around. People were certainly staring but, oddly, no one had made a move to approach their long-lost prince. In Eli’s experience, a prince, even an outcast runaway like Josef, was still someone who garnered favor currying by social climbers. These people seemed almost afraid.
Josef just shrugged. “They probably don’t recognize me. I’m a lot bigger than I was when I left.”
Eli kept his mouth shut about the likelihood of that explanation and focused on following the path Josef opened through the crowd.
As it happened, they made it all the way to the railing that separated the dais from the rest of the room without being approached. This close, Eli could see the throne easily. Like everything in the castle, the throne of Osera radiated age and deep-rooted authority. It was enormous, a naked stone bench wide enough to seat two men of Josef’s size with room to spare. The stone was the smooth, dove-gray rock of the mountain the castle sat on. It was carved with undulating patterns that mimicked the crashing sea so that whoever sat on the throne looked to be floating on a stone wave. A nice trick, all told, but the thing that really caught Eli’s attention wasn’t the throne itself, but the statues flanking it. Two enormous lions cast from midnight-black iron were anchored on either side of the throne. The lions stood rampant on their hind legs with their backs to the wall and their front paws reaching out to claw whoever defied Osera’s ruler.
“Throne of iron lions, indeed,” Eli whispered, leaning in to admire the delicate metalwork of their curling manes.
“What?” Josef said, looking up from his spot leaning against a support pillar.
Eli shook his head and set about studying the court instead. He scanned the people around them, trying to pick out Josef’s relatives from the crush. It proved harder than he’d thought it would be. Tall, blond, and grumpy seemed to be the motif among Oseran nobility. He’d never seen a sourer-faced crowd in his life.
“Josef,” Eli whispered. “Wasn’t Osera founded on piracy?”
“Among other things,” Josef said dryly.
Eli waved at the scowling crowd. “I thought pirates were supposed to be jolly.”
Josef made a sound in the back of his throat that reminded Eli of a ghosthound’s growl. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention, but Osera doesn’t have a lot to be jolly about at the moment.”
“I don’t see that you were ever jolly,” Eli said, glancing again at the lions.
Josef followed his gaze. “Not much room for it,” he said quietly. “Osera has always been ruled by the strong. Has to be. The sea eats the soft and the weak. The lions are there to remind people of that.”
“Point taken,” Eli said. He was about to ask another question when Josef suddenly pushed off the pillar.
“Eyes front,” Josef said, pulling his jacket straight. “The queen’s coming.”
“But there’s still half an hour before court!” Eli protested.
“Why do you think everyone gets here early?”
Eli’s answer was drowned out by a peel of trumpets as a six squad of guards in full armor marched into the throne room. People scooted out of their way, clearing a wide swath down the middle. The guards walked the full length of the hall, peeling off in pairs to stand at attention before each pillar until they had formed an armed corridor from the door to the throne. When they were in position, the trumpets sounded again, and the room filled with the sweep of cloth and the creak of leather as everyone, nobles and servants, bowed in reverence as Queen Theresa herself entered the throne room.
The queen looked very different from the night before. Her white hair was pulled up beneath a plain, masculine crown of heavy gold. She was clothed in black, a widow’s mourning dress of stiff, raw silk. Her lined face looked pale and pinched, but she stood straight, walking on her own with one hand resting on the arm of the tall, lovely woman in armor walking beside her—Princess Adela, Josef’s wife.
The princess made an impressive sight. With her dark, glossy hair and bright silver armor, she shone like a beacon beside the queen’s dour black, an effect that was not lost on the crowd. People glanced up from their bows as the princess passed. Their faces were a mix of envy and adoration. More adoration than Eli had expected. With great care, Adela helped the queen up the dais stairs to the wide
throne. Beside him, Eli felt Josef stiffen, but the swordsman said nothing as his wife helped his mother down to the hard stone bench. When she was settled, Adela stepped aside, leaving Theresa to survey her court.
Eli swallowed. The queen of Osera on her throne was an impressive sight indeed. The black of her dress shone from the gray stone like a rock among the waves. Above her, the lions’ extended paws framed her head like a second crown, a reminder of the power her position held, an ancient, bloody, visceral power that had nothing to do with the Council or Osera’s newfound wealth. Theresa’s pale eyes moved over the crowd, noting and dismissing each face until she found Josef’s.
“You,” she said, her voice echoing through the silent chamber. “Up here.”
Josef and Eli exchanged a final look, and then Josef pushed off the pillar, stepped over the railing, and climbed the stone steps to stand beside his mother.
“My son,” Theresa announced in a voice so harsh it made Eli wince. “Prince Josef Liechten Thereson Esinlowe, has returned from his travels to grace us with his presence one again.”
A murmur rose up from the crowd, and Josef shifted uncomfortably. Eli bit his lip, half expecting Josef to walk out, but he stayed rooted to the step beside the throne, glaring at the crowded room like he was daring them to do something about it.
“Last year,” the queen continued, “I declared the marriage of my son to Adela Theresa Reiniger, daughter of Lord Reiniger and his wife, the Lady Lenette, my dearest friend and lady of the chamber. Today, I reaffirm that bond.”
She beckoned, and Adela stepped forward, her hard-soled boots clacking against the stone until she was standing directly at the queen’s right. Theresa motioned again, and Josef reluctantly moved closer. Theresa took Adela’s hand and pressed it to Josef, who took it hesitantly. The queen smiled as the connection was made and gave them both a push.
“People of Osera,” she announced as Josef and Adela turned to face the room. “I give you your prince and princess. Through this union, the blood of the House of Eisenlowe shall flow to a new generation. May the strength of the Iron Lions breed true, and may the House of Eisenlowe never fall.”
