The Queen of Lies

by Michael J. Bode

  JESSA FIDGETED NERVOUSLY as Magus Quirrus drew out his tools: a copper dish and a long needle attached to a vial. He was a mousy man with an unusually strong jaw and delicate hands. Cameron sat next to her in the Silverbrook observatory, holding her hand. Although their affair was now something of an open secret, everyone seemed to welcome the scandal. The rowdy assemblyman fucking an imperial daughter played into everyone’s hatred of the Dominance without impugning the good reputation of anyone they actually cared about.

  Muriel was quietly livid over the affair but said little. Jessa realized she’d probably worn out her welcome at the Silverbrooks’ after her mother had been detained on suspicion of murdering her fiancé. The fact that Satryn refused on every occasion to testify in her own defense only made matters worse.

  “As much as I enjoy giving my blood to strangers, might I inquire as to your interest, Magus Quirrus?” Jessa asked.

  “Your mother found some anomalies in her humor that the Kultean priests may have concealed from her. As a favor she asked me to reexamine your blood to ensure there are no additional anomalies.”

  “Will this exonerate her?”

  “I’m afraid not, Lady Jessa.”

  “Then by all means proceed.” Jessa offered her arm to the blood mage and looked at Cameron. He squeezed her hand as the needle plunged into her skin and kissed her softly on the neck. “Mother thinks I’m a changeling because I don’t share her predilection for pointless cruelty.”

  “Perhaps you are.” Cameron winked and stroked her cheek.

  “Nonsense,” Jessa said. “I would have transformed before I was eighteen. Believe me, I would have liked nothing better growing up than to have turned into an owl and flown off to Maenmarth to reunite with my great-great-grandmother’s people.”

  “Here we go.” Quirrus squirted the blood into the copper basin and observed it. He didn’t, to Jessa’s mild surprise, taste any of it. The process went on for a good while longer than it would have with the Kultean priests. She wondered whether the Rivern blood mages actually consumed blood to nourish themselves at all.

  “I’m glad you came to Rivern instead,” Cameron said, smiling.

  “Oh, this is…interesting.” Quirrus furrowed his brow and looked at Jessa. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately?”

  Jessa shook her head. “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Cameron. We already know I’m a Stormlord. There can’t possibly be anything more damning in my blood than that.”

  “Perhaps we could speak with the queen. This is of some concern to her as well.”

  Jessa scowled. “Magus Quirrus, you surely aren’t an idiot. Please tell me Satryn hasn’t convinced you to be her spy. It would likely end as badly for you as it did with Torin.”

  “No one believes she has anything to do with it,” Quirrus assured her.

  “She’s done worse, with less provocation,” Jessa retorted. “Make no mistake—if you know something that’s damaging to her, your life is in danger. Tell me what you see.”

  “You’re pregnant,” he said, flinching at his own words. “The humor indicates that this happened recently. It’s too early to determine the sex, but the father is—”

  Cameron leaned forward. “By Ohan.”

  Jessa placed her hands against her belly. “That’s impossible.”

  “Th-the blood does not lie,” Quirrus said hastily. “I’ll keep this discreet of course. And I can recommend an alchemist if you want to take care of it early. It’s a fairly common remedy for noblewomen, at least in the Free Cities.”

  “As it is in Amhaven,” Jessa said sharply. “Thank you.”

  It took Quirrus a moment to realize he was being dismissed, but he couldn’t be gone fast enough as he gathered his bowl and implements and scrambled toward the door.

  “I didn’t think I could even have children,” Cameron said, disbelieving.

  She took a moment to let it all sink in. Her first thoughts were of her mother’s reaction. She would be apoplectic. Dark clouds would loom over the Invocari tower for weeks. But after that thought faded, the enormity of it hit her. Being unwed and having consorts was fine in the Dominance, but the people of Amhaven frowned deeply on such behavior. Her child’s claim would be even less accepted than hers.

  And the father was an assemblyman in Rivern. She doubted the empress would be too happy about that as well. Jessa’s thin prospects of marriage in Rivern would be ruined for sure. The countess would have her banished back to Amhaven, where she would wait out her days in Weatherly until her forces fell or she called on her aunt Nasara. There was no good solution to her situation before, but now things looked absolutely bleak.

  Cameron placed his hand on hers. “It’s okay. It happens from time to time. The potion might make you a little sick for a day, two at most, but after that it’ll be like this never happened. We just need to be more careful in the future.”

  Jessa nodded slowly. “Of course. You’re right, although I’ll require a stronger remedy. Stormlord bodies are more resilient to toxins, even at early ages. My mother always travels with some.”

  “You don’t have to be scared. No one will know about it.”

  Jessa looked at him. “What if I want to keep it?”

  Cameron’s eyes widened. But he gathered himself and took her hands into his. “I would love it every day it was alive. But Jessa, these are precarious times for you and for this city. The timing is just—”

  “I know.” She nodded again. “I’ll take Mother’s potion tonight. It shouldn’t enfeeble me too badly, and I’ll be able to carry on just as I have. Without a home or prospects or a kingdom…” The sky outside grew overcast, but she held back her tears.

  “There’s a place for you here,” Cameron insisted, “and maybe after some time, when all this dust settles, when we’ve really gotten to know each other, we can try again.”

  “That’s just it,” Jessa said. “There isn’t a place for me here. My presence is tolerated because the countess thinks she can marry me off to a politically convenient ally and ship me back to Amhaven.”

  They both started at the sound of a latch coming from behind one of the wooden panels. A soft mechanical sound accompanied the panel as it recessed slightly and slid back. The countess stood behind the wall, looking uncomfortable in the darkened passage behind it. “Well, I can’t listen to any of this anymore.”

  She mustered her dignity and stepped out. “I apologize for my sudden appearance, and I know how untoward it must seem to discover me snooping behind the walls of my own solarium like a scullery maid, but your comments beg me to address them immediately, and I don’t think you’d give me the opportunity to answer them by stating them to me directly.

  “Jessa, dear.” Countess Muriel walked over and took a seat on the other side of her. “I can only imagine what horrors you have endured at the hands of Lady Satryn and her kin, but the Silverbrooks aren’t the imperial family. You’re as much our blood as you are theirs. If you choose to stay with us, I’ll be fully supportive in that endeavor.”

  “It might make things easier.” Muriel tried to say it delicately. “The crown of Amhaven isn’t widely coveted here, and Duke Rothburn has extensive relationships with many of the assemblymen. But there is a consensus among some of us that a line of Stormlords could be welcome in Rivern.”

  “Muriel”—Jessa smiled—“I don’t know what to say.”

  Cameron squeezed her hand. “I’ll talk to my allies in the Assembly as well. It’s not many, as you know, but you can count on our votes.”

  Muriel sighed wearily. “I’m sure you have every good intention with your offer, but I think it best if you stayed out of this, Mr.—oh, I do apologize—is Cameron your first name or last? We’ve never had the pleasure of directly addressing each other, it seems.”

  “How unfortunate for us both,” he answered. “I was an orphan, so my family name is unknown to me, but I doubt in any event that you would have heard of it.”

  Jessa interr
upted, “Why does he have to stay out of it? Cameron is a member of the Assembly. It’s shortsighted to turn down any aid at this point. Not that I’ve made any decision yet, though you’ve offered me the first real possibility in this situation.”

  The countess shared a knowing look with Cameron.

  He met her stare and looked to Jessa. “There are some people in the Assembly who don’t like that voice has been given to the common men and women of Rivern. For my part, I haven’t always been cordial to them. Frankly I’ve told many of them, including your cousins, to fuck off. I’d hoped we could put past differences aside.”

  “Some may see an association as a political liability,” the countess added delicately. “Fortunately we have a good foundation of support. The rest we will need to buy, but there are plenty of seats up for sale, with the elections coming soon. We’ll need to act quickly.”

  Jessa pressed her temples. Give up her claim and stay in Rivern or keep her claim and live under the rule of her mother’s family. Under imperial rule, Amhaven would be at war with its eastern neighbor and its largest provider of income. The only question that remained was how badly she wanted to be queen.

  She glanced at Cameron. He was one of the most compassionate and principled men she’d ever met, even more so than her father. Father talked a lot about the common people, but he never really understood them.

  “Amhaven is my home,” Jessa said, “but I don’t wish my people to suffer if they don’t want me as their ruler. If I were to marry and be coronated as queen, I would have less authority than I would as acting regent.”

  “Excellent.” Muriel patted her on the hand. “Now we’re going to have to deal with this scandal. It goes without saying that you must terminate your pregnancy, but if we’re to pursue this, you also must terminate your relationship with Mr. Cameron.”

  Jessa shook her head. “That’s out of the question. Without my title, I’ll be a queen no more. Why does it matter with whom I share my company?”

  Cameron grimly studied the floor. “Rivern dethroned its king when it became a democracy, but the lords still carry their useless titles.”

  “I know I’m an old snob, and my values are traditional,” Muriel said, smiling, “but it will be precisely those people’s opinions we need to sway. Your dalliance is amusing because you’re young and foreign, but if people think your intentions with Mr. Cameron are serious, then they won’t welcome you into society. The last eligible suitor in our family met an untimely end—Ohan rest his soul—and your betrothal is an opportunity.”

  “To own a Stormlord bloodline,” Jessa said. “After everything, that’s all I’ll ever be reduced to, it seems.”

  “They just need to believe it’s possible,” Muriel encouraged her. “After the votes are cast, you can marry whomever you choose. And if after time passes, you still feel a fondness for Mr. Cameron, you can resume your…friendship. But for now there’s no harm in at least entertaining other options.”

  Cameron grumbled, “She means options with more money and proper last names.”

  “This isn’t just about my own prejudice,” the countess quipped. “Jessa is a queen, accustomed to a life of luxury and privilege. One that will be all but gone if she doesn’t find some other source of income. Unless you want her to end up like another Genevieve Gardner.”

  Cameron looked as if he’d been slapped. “That’s hardly—”

  “Fair?” The countess arched her gray eyebrow. “Is it fair that you still have your seat on the Assembly and your business interests while poor Miss Gardner’s life is in ruins for running off with you? I heard she was working in a candle shop of all things. Life isn’t about fairness, Mr. Cameron; it’s about reputation.”

  “What happened?” Jessa asked.

  Muriel said nothing.

  Cameron sighed, “Her fucking twat of a father disowned her because of our love.”

  “And you abandoned her?” Jessa asked.

  “We drifted apart,” Cameron said. “The candle shop was always her dream, and I made sure she was provided for.”

  “I will not have to sell candles.” Jessa frowned. “I don’t care about the money, and I suspect someone with my skills will always have a means to earn coin. I hear the Lowlands have had a particularly dry season, and there’s no shortage of pipes that need to be welded,” she quipped.

  “You’ll need a lot of money, Jessa,” Muriel said solemnly. “You’ll need protection from your family, and the services of the Invocari don’t come cheaply. I wish your circumstances allowed for more freedom, but there you have it. I can’t stop you, but I won’t risk my own reputation to support you in this.”

  “She’s right,” Cameron said in a low, strained voice. He didn’t look up at her. She could tell by the stoop in his shoulders that his fire was gone. Whatever had transpired between him and Miss Gardner had dredged up a dark cloud of guilt.

  “It’s disturbing that you both agree I can’t protect myself,” Jessa said, anger building inside her. “Mother may not have nurtured me or been particularly kind to me, but she did teach me to defend myself. It was my lightning that protected me while your Invocari stood by. I am not Lord Renax. The only people capable of challenging my power are in Thelassus. There’s little they can do to me from there, and I—”

  Jessa felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. Pain radiated throughout her body, and she collapsed screaming to the floor. It was like a nest of angry hornets had hatched within her stomach. The agony came relentlessly.

  Cameron rushed to help her, but Jessa kicked him back. “Stay away from me! Get out!” she shrieked.

  Cameron scrambled back. Muriel bit her knuckle and clutched her other hand to her chest. “Do you want me to fetch the healer, dear?”

  A thunderous crash filled the room, shaking the floor and furniture. Clocks and curios went flying. The sofa tipped backward, spilling Muriel out on the floor behind her. Her thin legs kicked from the ruffles of her long dress. Cameron was hurled back into an antique end table.

  Jessa scratched at the hardwood floor with her nails, as arcs of electricity danced across her skin. The pain ended as quickly as it started, as if it were never there at all.

  Cameron rushed to the countess, assisting her off the floor. She looked ashen and disheveled, but she didn’t appear to be hurt.

  Jessa stood, her eyes glowing with the cool blue flicker of electrical current. “Someone in my family just passed me their Heritage. Someone close to me. Very close.”

  “You should check on your mother,” Muriel offered, trying not to sound pleased.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Legacy

  SATRYN

  MY OLDEST AND dearest sibling Nasara,

  My time among the people of the Protectorate has been enlightening to say the least. I daresay a part of me will miss these people when I return to Thelassus to take my rightful place.

  Jessa is serving her purpose masterfully, disarming the Assembly. She plays the part of the hapless pawn better than the Queen of Lies herself. Sometimes she’s so convincing I almost don’t think she could be my blood.

  Speaking of which…I wouldn’t wait for Jessa to request your aid. Rothburn’s insolence is an insult to our family that can’t be allowed to stand, but she risks credibility if she addresses it herself. Claim it for your son Nerrax to keep suspicion off my daughter. She must continue to play her part as victim in our family infighting.

  Pay my respects to Uncle Nash,

  Satryn

  SATRYN SURVEYED THE smoldering ruins of her chambers with evident satisfaction. The center of the bed was a smoking crater, and black scorch marks marred the glowing wards that covered the walls. She picked up one of the chairs and set it on its legs only to see it collapse on a broken leg. “And I was just starting to get settled in. I’ll need all new furnishings.”

  The metal door clanked open, and Satryn regarded it defiantly.

  “Mother.” Jessa stood in the door wearing a sleeveless white dress that didn’t
look half bad on her. The plunging neckline drew the eye toward her cleavage. Is she fucking someone?

  “So you do care,” Satryn cooed. “I was beginning to think you’d never come to visit. But family tragedy has a way of drawing us closer, doesn’t it?”

  “What the hells happened?” Jessa lifted the hem of her dress off the floor and marched over to her mother.

  “How would I know? I’ve been detained.” Satryn laughed musically.

  “And I was enjoying that immensely.”

  Satryn backhanded her; it was mostly reflex at this point. Jessa caught her wrist in midair and squeezed. Her silver eyes flared. “You’ll never lay a hand on me again, Satryn.”

  Satryn giggled and nodded approvingly. The girl’s reflexes had vastly improved. “Very well, Jessa. I respect your defiance, and I’ll look past your disrespect.” She yanked her hand free of her daughter’s grip and caressed her wrist.

  Jessa regarded her flatly. “The empress still sits on the Coral Throne. The Protectorate spies confirmed this hours ago. So if you’re still alive, who was it? Because I destroyed a priceless collection of clocks during the death throes. There was a burst. Those only happen for direct ancestors.”

  “Probably an uncle,” Satryn said dismissively. “The imperial death rattles are always dramatic affairs. You’ve always been unusually sensitive to them. When your great-uncle Caritas passed, you were just a baby, but I swear you cried for a week.”

  “Look at this place!” Jessa put her hands on her hips. “Did you also demolish your chambers at Weatherly Castle? Because Father never told that part of the story. Nor do I remember feeling Great-Aunt Aluria’s death so keenly.”

  Satryn threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know what to tell you. I have no idea who it was, and I don’t know why you trashed Muriel’s precious clocks. Perhaps you secretly desired a reprieve from the incessant ticking.”

  “Perhaps we should consult with a blood sage then. Magus Quirrus said he found anomalies in your blood, minutes before I felt the passing of a direct relation. Imagine my surprise to learn both you and the empress are still drawing breath.”