by R. J. Price
“She did it on purpose? Queens can't do it on purpose!” Ervam shouted at Laeder.
“Calm down,” Av and Jer said to Ervam as one.
“The throne, even so far away, showed her how,” Laeder said. “Its queen had just died. It wanted Telm to sit it, so it was reaching for her. She doesn't think she could do it again, she's not even certain she's capable of the rage were someone to do something ridiculously stupid.
“When she came to she was a day away, holding her own guts in as riders from the palace, who had been headed out to retrieve her at the dying queen's wishes, came across her. They went to check the village and came back, babbling stories about the undead and how the land itself was dead.
“Since then, Telm has pieced it together from myth and then the archivist, who has access to records she cannot even read. Originally she thought the magic cursed the village by thrusting it into the spirit realm and sort of bringing the spirit realm into ours. Causing disease and famine to spread from the village and ever outward. But suddenly the spread stopped and sort of reversed. For a generation, it's simply existed, but Telm said recently it got bigger again. Now she can't sense it at all, but she once knew how large it was and whether it grew or shrank. It will shrink for a few months, then grow again. Each time it grows, the middle of the spell, the village itself is ruined in a new way.”
Laeder paused to sip his tea as the others at the table contemplated. Av watched Laeder watch him and came to a conclusion that he thought was quite obvious.
“Queens—queens were stumbling into the spell, linked to the magic that was there in the first place like they are to the throne,” Av said.
The scribe nodded. “They're drawn to the deadened land, since it’s in their nature to help, but when a queen rages, others are drawn more so, to fix what one of their own destroyed. Thing is—and Telm only learned this recently—the only way to get rid of the spell was for the one it was cast on to die.”
“But the land was cursed,” Jer said.
“That's what she thought,” Laeder said. “That's what I thought as well, but it's not the land. Telm would never attack the land itself, her rage was launched onto the one who did her harm. There were people in that village who tried to help her escape. There were innocents there. Her rage and every ounce of her magic was poured into the man who caused her pain. Her cousin.”
“As long as he lives, so does the spell?” Av asked. “How do we find him? Could he be closer than the village? Can I stab him right now?”
Laeder held up his hands in his own defence. “We don't know where the cousin is. He could be mobile, but he's got to be ancient by now. The spell slowed Telm's aging. She was just over thirty when the spell was launched which—as your father will tell you—was several years before you two were born. Age of consent for a queen was twenty-five when Telm was young. In order to prevent a queen from being taken advantage of by her mate.”
“She was twenty-five,” Av said, turning to his father. “How old is Aunt?”
“Fifty-five,” Ervam struggled to get out.
“She was twenty-five when she found herself a man,” Laeder corrected. “Making Telm well over eighty.”
“Spry for such an old woman,” Jer muttered.
“I have a question,” Av said. He waited until everyone was watching him. He knew that they were expecting some stupid question that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. “If we break this spell, what happens to Telm? To her age? Lose Anue, we're in trouble with Aren. Lose Telm? We're in trouble from every queen on palace lands and some who aren't.”
The table was silent. None of them had thought of that, no one considered Telm.
“Better yet, if that's how Telm aged, how did her cousin?” Jer asked. “Are we looking for an old man, a man just past his prime, or did he stay in the village?”
“Making it almost impossible for him to age, let alone die,” Laeder said. “Those who weren't consumed in the blast were locked to the land. Telm thought it was in a bid to keep her daughter alive. The only way for them to die was by their own hands or—and uh, I kind of got a chuckle out of this—or at the hands of the one true love of the one linked to the magic within the village, thusly redeeming your entire rank in the so-called eyes of Telm's rage.”
“What happens if I go but I'm not actually her true love?” Av asked.
“You get locked into the spell to suffer agony for all eternity and she is killed,” Laeder said. “In order to spare her from the heartbreak and abuse you would surely cause her.”
“Surely that's theoretical,” Jer said.
“The archivist and his kind are capable of viewing, in a way, a queen's rage and the magic she creates during the rage and writing it down in spell form. The spell is blurry in some aspects, but in that it's clear. Either he has to take his own life, or die of old age, or you have to pray to the good spirits that you're Aren's one true love and she is in fact linked to the magic.”
“And that you don't miss,” Ervam said. “The cousin was a warrior, who's had quite a bit of time alone to do as he pleases.”
“Who may, or may not, have an army of spirit villagers backing him,” Jer muttered.
“True love or not, I can't just leave her there,” Av said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Having unburdened himself on Av, Jer, and Ervam, Laeder felt so much better. It was the duty of ranks to be concerned with these items, not a commoner scribe. They would carry the emotion now and Laeder could return to the palace and meet Telm's eyes. Hearing it all out loud, saying it to someone else, Laeder felt as if Telm's past was one of sorrow and remorse.
The woman had forced out her own daughter, made the girl believe her mother hated her, in order to keep her from being consumed by the throne. Telm had said her daughter was too innocent then, to survive the throne, to be able to say no to it.
When all was said and done, Ervam told Jer to take Laeder to his bed. Ervam had said Jer could take the floor in front of the hearth. Jer walked Laeder into the bedroom and gave him a set of clothing to wear to bed.
Laeder looked at Jer, wondering if their time at the palace had been nothing more than a fling. The warrior met his eyes and turned, closing the door of his bedroom.
“My father has very strict rules for those who aren't mated,” Jer said quietly to Laeder. “He once dragged Av out of bed in the middle of the night, bare as the day they were both born. Especially with children in the house, it's not a good idea if we do anything.”
“Not even a hello?” Laeder asked.
“Hello,” Jer said with a smile. “I'm sorry, Laeder, I'm afraid if I touch you that I won't be able to contain myself. Those big eyes of yours are just begging me to take you.”
“Oh.” Laeder looked down immediately. He had hoped for a little attention, an acknowledgement of their time together, but hadn't quite expected that.
“If Father didn't do it, Av certainly would,” Jer sighed out. “He's stuck here until spring and Aren is stuck in a village far away.”
“One that will keep her alive as long as possible,” Laeder said. “Unless Av was especially stupid the night she ran away and she's pregnant, in which case they'll keep her alive until she gives birth in order to claim the child.”
“Aren wasn't pregnant; if she was, Av would have said something about it when we got him drunk,” Jer said. “And, let's face it, if she were pregnant, nothing would stop him from getting to her.”
Laeder set the clothing to the side and then sat on the edge of the bed. “Av wants children now? Most men just want to enjoy their companion for a while.”
“Av and Aren aren't like most couples. They barely realize they want each other at this point. Both too stubborn to come to terms with the fact that their attraction is completely out of their control.”
“Will you be safe out here, with him, for the winter?” Laeder asked.
Jer chuckled quietly. “Good thing the door is closed. He'll be ready to start a war from the informatio
n you brought. I may need to take a few beatings this winter. Father might need to beat him a few times, but we were taught control above all things. Av can't save Aren until the spring, which means he's stuck here. He'll ride a hard edge and that edge is not going to get better if you point out the fact that he may be dangerous.”
“It's not a ‘might be dangerous’ type of situation. He was ready to take my throat out for knocking on the door, so what is he going to do to the people in that village?” Laeder asked.
“There are only two people left alive in that village, plus Aren,” Jer said.
“And if killing the first two doesn't slake his bloodlust, what's he going to do to Aren?” Laeder demanded. “She's my friend. She's your sister. Do you feel nothing for her?”
“I do feel for her, but the choice between her and my brother is not one for me to make,” Jer said quickly. “It's nearly impossible to explain to a commoner what it's like, to face the queen you've chosen and have her command you to stand down when all you want to do is splash the walls with blood.”
“Aren isn't some court-born queen, who knows how to control a warrior, Jer. She doesn't know how to use her magic, she doesn't know how to listen to her instincts, she doesn't even understand how to claim a warrior or the trouble she's gotten herself into.”
“They will be fine,” Jer said.
“How can you know that?” Laeder asked.
“What other option do I have?” Jer asked in response. “To plan for my brother to tear apart his mate before he even knows he's mated to her? To have to explain to the barons, come spring, that there will be no mating ceremony and thus no treaties between the lands? The barons are scary. For that reason alone, things have to be right.”
“I wish I had your faith,” Laeder said.
“If Aren and Av can't make it, what hope is there for a warrior and a commoner who grew up around commoners?” Jer asked.
Laeder stared at Jer as the words sank in.
Warriors had mated commoners since the beginning of time. They had come first of all the ranks. Those commoners had, however, grown up around warriors and knew the rules, recognized all the signs.
“Does my questioning this, make you question us?” Laeder asked.
“No, but it does make me see that this isn't the sort of life you were born to,” Jer said. “It has a different set of rules. You've studied queens, haven't you also studied the warriors?”
“Only their mates, their...” Laeder struggled to translate the word into the modern language, “one. Av and Aren are not proven to be that, they're a man and woman forced together due to circumstances.”
“They claimed each other, before the court and against everyone's command,” Jer said. “That's practically the definition of what you're trying to tell me.”
“They did it to protect themselves.”
“They did it to protect each other,” Jer said. “The difference being one is for selfish reasons, the other is to protect another person. What happened at the engagement ball cannot be faked, it's something beyond the everyday. A warrior will only step up to a queen like that if he means to keep her, and she will only claim him if he will serve until his dying breath. It's the ultimate bet. If Av makes a single mistake, anything from forgetting cream in the tea, to sleeping with another woman, Aren has the right to kill him without a trial.”
“What?” Laeder asked.
History floated up in his mind. Stories of queens killing their mates for what appeared to be random events. Much like how a warrior might kill a commoner and no one would question it. He had thought them frightening tales of queens gone mad, reasons why commoners feared the ranks.
“The dance—didn't you watch it? At the end, Aren's hand ran up his neck, cradled his jaw.”
Jer reached out and repeated the motion on Laeder, sending a delightful yet fearful shudder through the younger man. Laeder met Jer's eyes and tried not to whimper as the warrior leaned in.
“Queens of old knew how to use their magic to cause a cutting force, but only from their dominant hand and it had to be close contact,” Jer said quietly, his face inches from Laeder's. “When a warrior allows a queen to place a hand on them just so, they are surrendering themselves entirely. If she had found him lacking, even without training, her instincts would have lashed out and caused quite a mess.”
“She would have killed him,” Laeder breathed out. “But queens have used warriors before.”
“And that's why his hand was on her waist.” Jer's shifted to Laeder's hip, then travelled upward. “Perhaps not on you, but definitely a woman Aren's size, all Av had to do was clench his hand. He's more than enough strength to cause internal bleeding. It would be a slow death, especially given that healers nowadays can do little more for internal bleeding than poking it with their fingers and making sounds.”
They were so very, very close. Laeder gulped in a breath of air and pulled away from Jer. He was aware of the threats behind those motions and yet could do no more to stop his heated reaction than he could to stop rain from falling from the sky.
The records all said that queens felt more strongly than commoners, that warriors could feel certain emotions that were beyond the comprehension of the common man. If such a little touch made him feel like that, how might it have affected Aren?
“For those reasons, you believe them to be well matched,” Laeder managed to get out.
“Those. And they made their claim to me when I was still mate to the throne,” Jer said. “I felt strongly enough about the pairing, agreed to it, that I went out of my way to get Em to sign the papers without actually explaining to her who it was that was doing the chasing.”
“Did she know Aren was the one being chased?” Laeder asked.
“Of course, she had little idea who Aren was. The girl was a new name and the new guardian for Mar. She never expected Aren to last. She did, however, know who Av was.”
“You've mentioned that Em was chasing him, but—” Laeder started.
“Em knew the type of man that Av was. He's honourable and loyal, for the right reasons. He can and will claim anyone who is strong and stubborn and bull-headed. If she discovered that Av had been the one signing papers to chase Aren, I was afraid she would execute Aren without due process.”
“Yet you never suspected that Aren was a queen?” Laeder asked.
“The throne can give you insight while blocking the very obvious, all in order to protect ones who need to remain hidden,” Jer said.
“Why can't it just tell the truth?” Laeder grumbled.
“Now you sound like Mie. He, too, believes he should be able to call a pot a pot. But we're dealing with people who have their own ambitions and desires. Those desires don't match those of the current ruling queen, or they don't know if they do, which means they dance around the point like their lives depend on it. Many of their lives do depend on it.”
“If the throne wanted Aren on it, why would it let Em kill her?”
“There were plenty of queens who had to leave. Some who were killed by those who Em talked into doing the deed. The throne didn't protect them. Why would we risk Aren to see if the throne would actually protect its investment, or if it actually could?”
“And yet you believe that the same throne will protect Aren until the spring and then love will protect Aren from Av?” Laeder asked. “They haven't had time to get to know one another.”
“I know, they're still in the lusting phase of their relationship. But there's something more to it, there has to be.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aren sat reading the books Danya had brought her. She had heard about the rights before, basic items that the throne enforced for all people. Yet the throne did not protect children from abusive parents, nor did it ensure food for orphans. She had always found that odd.
Education had been added to the rights, that much she knew, but that right only counted for those who came to ask for an education. Learning had to be asked for. Once asked, it could no
t be denied. Not to the poorest child or the richest lord and at no expense to themselves.
The throne could add to the rights, but taking from them took a great deal more effort. A united land, a council of ranks and commoners alike. Not like changing a tax or changing the ruling of the previous queen to sit the throne.
The rights in the books explained how ranks behaved. It gave a person a right to their bodies, right to control themselves, but offered no protection. Aren could only assume that, in a perfect world, everyone simply allowed others their rights. Yet there must always have been those who tried to snuff out the rights, therefore they must have been protected, somehow.
By the throne, most definitely. More than once the throne had sent out men to start a war, or put down a rebellion. There was more than one myth about the throne sending warriors, sending the mate of the throne, to retrieve a single woman from the other side of palace lands.
He would arrive just in time, astride a shining white horse, dressed in the regal armour of a lord, to save the young woman from her father or brother.
“You look curious,” Danya said.
It startled Aren out of her thoughts. The healer had snuck up on her.
“Thinking about the myths I've heard in relation to the rights,” Aren said. “The throne protects the rights of the people, but surely the throne cannot see every slight, cannot protect against every indiscretion.”
“My mother used to tell me stories about warriors,” Danya said, sitting on the cold floor beside Aren. “You haven't mentioned my mother to Rewel, have you?”
“Of course not,” Aren said. “He comes in and grunts at me, makes some threats, takes out the chamber pot and, if I've been good, he'll bring it back right away. We do not speak.”
“Good. He can speak to some of them, but only the men, and only a handful of them.”
“And you?” Aren asked, handing Danya the book she had been reading. “You could speak to the women?”
