The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1)

by Karen Azinger

  The queen smiled. “Most kingdoms do not even mint coins, relying instead on the wealth and coinage of the Rose Court.” Plucking a gold coin from the tabletop, she held it aloft. “Lanverness sets the pace for the creation of wealth in Erdhe. The other kingdoms do their best to follow.” Offering the coin to the princess, she said, “This is power…a power far greater than any sword.”

  The young woman fingered the coin. “The wealth and power of Lanverness is undeniable. Your people are content and prosper under your rule. There is power in gold…but honor resides in the steel of swords, the honor of risking your life in battle in order to make a difference.” She shook her head. “Few battles can be won with gold. I respect the power of gold but I choose the honor of swords.” Staring into the blazing fire, the princess added in a quiet voice, “Somehow, I am meant to serve the Light with my sword.”

  The queen hated to see such honesty wasted on a sword. The young rarely heeded advice, yet Liandra gave it anyway. “You choose a dangerous path. Men will band together to crush any woman who dares to compete on their terms. To carve a place in this world, a woman must be oblique. Beauty, guile, and golds are the subtle weapons of the fair sex.”

  “They are your weapons, not mine. I choose the sword.”

  The queen was not surprised. Leaning back in her chair, she watched the play of firelight across the young woman’s face. Intelligence, strength of character, and a strong streak of stubbornness shone from the girl’s face, a potent mix. The princess was an open scroll, easy to read. “What gives you this conviction that you are meant to serve the Light with your sword?”

  The princess sat in silence, gazing into the fireplace. As the silence lengthened, the queen had the sudden insight that the girl had never had a woman to confide in, let alone one of power. Fingering the strand of pearls at her neck, she waited, curious to see if the princess would trust enough to reply.

  A loud snap of the fire brought the princess back to the solar. In a distant voice, she said, “We came to Lanverness by way of the Isle of Souls. Intrigued by the idea of seeing the future, I had my fortune told by a tarot card reader. The mystic said things she could never have known, but the really disturbing part came at the end. Instead of a woman’s voice, there was a deep masculine rasp. The voice said that I was an ‘old soul’ and that I was meant to serve the Light with my sword. I believe it was the voice of the warrior god, Valin.” Her voice held a note of defiance, as if expecting disbelief. “One of the knights heard the voice as well. His sword is now sworn to my service.”

  The queen stilled her face to mask her surprise. Talking with this young woman was like peeling back the layers of an onion, each layer revealing a deeper truth. Liandra had not expected the young woman to be among the god-touched. It did much to explain the depth of her convictions. It explained other things as well.

  “Your majesty, do you believe in the gods?”

  In an audience chamber, the queen would have given a political answer. In the privacy of her solar, Liandra felt the young woman both deserved and needed the truth. “We have never heard the voice of the gods and we have never witnessed a miracle. If the Lords of Light take a direct hand in the world, then they are careful to hide their efforts under the cloaks of nature and chance. Who is to say what is the will of the gods and what is merely happenstance? Yet evil clearly walks the world. The Dark Lord is quick to make his presence felt. If the Lords of Light do not exist, then what chance do mere mortals have? If you believe in the future of mankind then you must also believe in the Lords of Light.”

  “Do you believe I’ve heard the voice of the gods?”

  “We believe that you are telling the truth. Perhaps that is enough for now.” Feeling the need to bring this discussion to a close, the queen said, “You are welcome to stay in the Rose Court for as long as you like. We hope your stay with us will be worthwhile. If you find that Valin calls you elsewhere, then you have our leave to go.”

  Surprise and gratitude danced across the young woman’s face. “Thank you for your wisdom and your understanding. There is clearly much to learn in the Rose Court.”

  Rising from the chair to mark the end of the audience, the queen said, “Return to the inn and gather your belongings. A place has been made for you and your escort in Castle Tandroth. Seek out the steward and he will see to it that you are settled in a wing of the palace. If you need anything, you have only to ask.” Pausing, the queen added, “We have ordered the steward to put you in the same wing of the palace as the delegation from Navarre. Princess Jemma is also fostering in our court. We suggest you seek her out.”

  “As you wish.” The princess added, “And thank you for your wisdom. You have given me much to think about.”

  With an answering smile, the queen said, “We will be sure to talk again soon. In the mean time, be welcome in the Rose Court.”

  Bowing, the princess took her leave.

  The queen studied the flames dancing in the fireplace while finishing her glass of wine. There was much more to this warrior princess than met the eye. Liandra had not expected the girl to be among the god-touched. The gods played a convoluted game of chess, with little regard for the mortal pieces that littered the board. She pitied the young woman. The life of those touched by the gods tended to be one of struggle and pain. The gods played for higher stakes than the happiness of mere individuals. Catching a sudden chill, Liandra leaned forward to better feel the heat. Staring into the flames, she resolved to do her best to aid the princess of Castlegard. Dark times crowded the horizon and the queen suspected there were not nearly enough warriors of the Light for the battles that lay ahead.

  50

  Katherine

  Kath sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing and her nightshirt sodden with sweat. Her gaze darted warily around the strange room. Her right hand searched the blankets for the hilt of her sword while her left checked to make sure her gargoyle was still around her neck. The gargoyle was where it belonged and her right hand found the sword. Drawing the sword from the sheath, she dared the shifting shadows to advance on the bed. With steel in her hand, her heartbeat stilled and she remembered everything. With a weary sigh, Kath sank back on the pillows, keeping a tight hold on the sword. The nightmares had returned. She’d almost forgotten about them. They’d been strangely absent on the long trip from Castlegard. Now that she was safe behind castle walls, the nightmares plagued her again.

  What amazed her most about the dreams was how real they seemed. They always started the same way, running blindly through the stone hallways of a castle, desperately searching for a weapon or an ally, deadly enemies following behind. The castle was always deserted. The doors either locked or they opened onto barren rooms that became deadly traps. No matter how fast she ran, the race always ended with Kath trapped in a blind hallway, her back pressed against cold hard stone, waiting for the killing blow. But instead of death, she always found herself falling backwards through the solid stone wall…waking abruptly in the safety of her bed.

  Kath wiped the sweat from her brow and released her grip on the sword. The escapes from her dreams were always too close for comfort. Thoroughly exhausted, she gave up on sleep, preferring to rise rather than face death in her dreams again. Maybe if she understood the message then the nightmares would stop. But whatever the message, it eluded Kath.

  Unwilling to risk further nightmares, she threw off the covers and got dressed. As the pale light of morning crept through the window, she buckled her sword belt around her waist and made sure the dagger was secure in her right boot. She reached for her twin throwing axes and shrugged the harness onto her back, knowing it was more weapons than she needed within the queen’s castle but after her abduction she didn’t feel safe without them. Armed for any surprise, she quietly opened the door to the common sitting room. With Lanverness soldiers stationed at the outer door, there was no need for the knights to stand guard. At least the knights were getting their sleep even if she wasn’t.

  Passing t
he closed doors to the other bedrooms, Kath crossed the sitting room and quietly opened the outer door to the main corridor. Two guards snapped to attention. Saluting the guards, she slipped into the empty corridor. At such an early hour, the castle hallways were nearly deserted.

  Turning right, she headed for the parapet door. Castle Tandroth was a confusing maze of corridors, but Kath had been pleased to discover that her quarters had easy access to an outer parapet. After the nightmares, a walk in the fresh air always helped ease her mind. Opening the iron-studded door, she stepped out into the bracing cold of the winter morning.

  A stiff wind carried a hint of snow. Brush strokes of pinks and golds painted the cloud-laden sky. Pulling her cloak close, Kath walked along the parapet gazing out at the city below. The view was impressive but her mind was elsewhere. Lost in the pattern of her dreams, she sought to solve the riddle of her gargoyle. If she could unlock the magic then she’d have another weapon to use against the Dark Lord. Her dreams were repetitive and frighteningly realistic, but the message was too cryptic for Kath to interpret.

  Lost in the details, she was surprised by a flicker of movement. Easing her hand toward her sword, she turned to catch a glimpse of a tall dark man with broad shoulders. A shiver ran down her spine and a thousand wings beat within her mind. The world shifted as if she’d stepped through a hidden door. For a heartbeat, her mind was drawn to the broken tower lost in the forests of Wyeth. Time shifted and she found herself standing in the tower of the eight-pointed star, whole and unbroken and at the height of its power. She wore silver armor and a great sword hung at her side. A knight descended the spiral staircase of swords and came toward her. Tall and dark, she knew his face better than she knew her own. As he drew closer, her vision suddenly blurred. The wings came rushing back, beating against her. She fought to stay in the past, but she was forced back through the door of her mind. The door slammed shut and the world blurred. A sigh escaped her for all that was lost.

  Staggering, Kath tried to get her bearings. Warm hands grasped her firmly around the waist, effortlessly supporting her. Through a haze, she heard a masculine voice say, “Are you all right?”

  Regaining her balance, she looked up into a ruggedly handsome face framed by raven hair and marked by a black leather patch across the left eye. Without thinking, she murmured, “Is it you?”

  The air stilled, and she could have sworn he whispered back, “Yes.”

  The moment passed and she caught her balance. The man released her, letting her stand on her own. Kath instantly missed his hands at her waist.

  He stepped back giving her space, space she didn’t really want. Peering into her eyes, he said, “I thought you were going to fall.”

  “Thank you, I’m all right now.”

  “Perhaps you best go back inside. A slip on the parapet could be dangerous.”

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right.” Lost in a daze, Kath turned and walked back toward the ironbound door. Confused by the encounter, it wasn’t until she reached the warmth of her room that she realized she did not even know his name.

  51

  Liandra

  Servants fluttered around the small table, lighting candles and filling goblets. As was her habit, the queen limited her afternoon meal to a large bowl of clear broth. Slivers of shaved mushrooms and thinly sliced scallions floated in the savory broth. Although it looked like little more than water, the cooks of Tandroth Castle had perfected the recipe. Ever conscious of her image, the queen guarded her hourglass figure. Her petite elegance was one of the features that allowed her to easily captivate men. Liandra had no intention of relinquishing that power to age or the luxuries of the Rose Court.

  Abstemious in her own eating habits, the queen indulged her guests. The richness of her table was famous throughout Erdhe, another form of image. Tempting smells of lake trout cooked in melted butter and lemon grass swirled through the chamber. As the servants presented each course, the queen studied her guest, pleased with the transformation. Princess Jemma had taken her advice, commissioning a new wardrobe. Instead of the old-fashioned, provincial gowns from Navarre, the dark-haired beauty now wore elegant styles that accentuated her petite figure and lustrous hair.

  The queen could not help but smile. Underneath that petite beauty, she’d discovered a cool and calculating mind capable of keeping pace with the queen’s own speed of thought. Liandra had fostered the offspring of many royal houses, but this was the first time she hosted a protégé. The queen took delight in talking with a young woman who could actually appreciate the subtleties of power and the shrewd, convoluted ways of multiplying golds. Liandra made a point of having lunch with Princess Jemma at least once a week. She justified the time by daring to assume she was grooming a future daughter-in-law. From what she had seen so far, Princess Jemma had the potential to be a worthy successor to the Rose Court. Of course the young woman would have to prove her worth before a match could be made with her royal son. The queen had just the right set of challenges to test the young woman’s abilities.

  Dismissing the servants, the queen opened the conversation. “When you first came to the Rose Court, you said you wanted to learn how to grow and maintain the riches of a kingdom. Does this still interest you?”

  “Now more than ever. I’ve already learned much by watching your court. The kingdom of Navarre would benefit from adopting some of your practices.”

  The words sounded like flattery, but the queen suspected the princess was sincere. Nevertheless, she set the girl a test. “If you returned to Navarre tomorrow, what one idea or practice from the Rose Court would you recommend to King Ivor?”

  There was no hesitation in her reply. “I’m impressed by the way you use the commoners’ audiences. The audiences let you test the pulse of the people, removing the interfering layers of courtiers that usually surround a monarch. A monarch must always keep in touch with her people, but you also use the audiences to identify new business opportunities. By encouraging merchants to open new trade routes or craftsmen to bring their skills to Lanverness, you grow the prosperity of the kingdom while also ensuring a steady stream of golds for the royal purse.” Pausing to taste the trout, the princess added, “If I had to recommend one idea to the king, it would be to adopt the practice of holding regular commoners’ audiences. But to gain the most benefit from the audiences, the king or one of his counselors must have an eye for business.” Meeting the queen’s stare, the princess said, “It is that eye for business that I hope to learn from you. The power to multiply golds is what I truly hope to bring back to Navarre.”

  The queen hid her pleasure by taking a sip of her soup. Many of her counselors did not understand the commoners’ audience the way that this young woman did. Impressed, she said, “The best way to learn is by doing.”

  The princess waited, her attention focused on the queen.

  “You have been in Pellanor long enough to observe the day-to-day workings of the Rose Court. If you wish to learn how to multiply golds, then we suggest you choose an established business in Pellanor, study it, and then come back and present the crown with ideas to grow the business. Does this idea appeal to you?”

  “It sounds like the perfect opportunity to learn.”

  Pleased that the princess was so quick to accept the challenge, the queen said, “You may take your time to select a business that interests you, but once selected, we expect you to see it through to the end. Do you agree?”

  Fingering the wine goblet, Princess Jemma replied, “I already know which business I would like to study.”

  Surprised by the certainty in the young woman’s voice, the queen inquired, “What business would you choose?”

  “My brother, James, is spending his Wayfaring in Tubor learning the art of the vintner. An avid farmer, James believes that Navarre has the right soil and weather to grow grapes, especially in the coastal hills around Seaside. I am sure my brother will learn everything there is to know about growing grapes and making wine, but I doubt he will learn h
ow to turn wine into golds. If I could learn the business, then together we might bring a new prosperity to the kingdom of Navarre.”

  The reasoning behind the choice was interesting, revealing a rare combination of pragmatism and idealism that appealed to the queen. “We are pleased by your choice. The wineries of Lanverness are modest compared to those of Tubor or even Radagar, but perhaps they could be improved. We will follow your work with great interest. How will you begin?”

  A slight blush crept across the princess’s cheeks. “To be honest, I do not know.” Pausing, she added, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Amused by the young woman’s refreshing candor, the queen allowed herself a polite laugh. Seeing a puzzled look on the princess’s face, the queen explained, “A monarch is ever surrounded by counselors, courtiers, advisors, and generals. If you ever wear a crown you’ll soon discover that the royal court is much like the rutting of stags; the great beasts competing with their antlers to obtain dominance and influence. In such an arena, you will never hear the words ‘I do not know’ spoken within proximity of your throne. Allow us the small pleasure of talking with someone who is not afraid to say the words. After all, it is these simple words that allow a person to learn.” The queen paused to take a small sip of wine. She could tell that her young protégé did not quite know what to make of her last statements. Relieving her of the need to reply, the queen said, “As to how to begin, we suggest you talk to those who already work in the business: from the farmers, to the vintners, to owners of the pubs, and even to the nobles who consider themselves experts in matters of wine. As you learn about the business, patterns will emerge. These patterns are the key to multiplying golds.”