Queen of the Unwanted

by Jenna Glass

Chanlix cleared her throat to dislodge the lump, but her voice came out tight with suppressed tears anyway. “I will miss you both more than I can say.”

  * * *

  —

  Alys looked down at the boy, who lay too still in the cot, his face too pale despite skin that was tanned a deep, golden brown.

  “He lost a lot of blood,” Lord Jailom explained, reaching down to run a gentle hand over Smithson’s head. As lord commander, Jailom did not spend a great deal of time with the cadets of the Citadel, but he obviously took his role as the boys’ surrogate parent and protector very seriously. “The healers say he will fully recover, but it will take some time.” He flicked a glance in Alys’s direction. “And if Corlin hadn’t found a battleground healer within minutes, the boy would have perished.”

  Alys shook her head, but she could not look upon this suddenly frail-looking boy lying deep in a drugged sleep and deny that the injury had been grave indeed. “He can’t possibly…” she started to say, but her voice failed her. Corlin had been on his best behavior for the past few weeks, and she had allowed herself to believe that he had finally learned how to rein in his temper. Or at least that he wanted to sit in on council meetings enough that he’d learned how to vent his temper in less obvious ways.

  “He didn’t mean to,” Jailom said, but his voice did not convey a great deal of reassurance. “Smithson was perhaps unwise to try to stop him from hacking up his bed, and there’s no question he was remorseful. But still…”

  Alys had thought Corlin had taken the news of his uncle’s death with reasonably good grace, but it seemed that the moment he was left alone, he’d taken his sword to his bed in the barracks house. And apparently to his fellow cadet who’d tried to calm him.

  “You understand, Your Royal Highness, that he cannot remain in the Citadel after this,” Jailom said gently.

  She nodded. Corlin probably would have been expelled from the Citadel before if he were not the heir to the throne of Women’s Well. His earlier transgressions had been nothing compared to this, and she could not ask the citizenry of Women’s Well to risk their sons’ lives at the Citadel, whether Corlin had learned his lesson or not.

  “He also can’t go unpunished,” Jailom said, and this time there was more caution than gentleness in his voice.

  Alys swallowed an instinctive denial. It was far from unusual for boys from important families to be excused almost any sin to protect those families’ reputations—especially when the victim was a commoner, like poor Smithson—but Alys and her royal council had all agreed that Women’s Well would operate differently from the rest of Seven Wells. To expect perfect equity between the classes was unrealistic, but it would be hypocrisy of the highest degree to allow Corlin to nearly murder a fellow cadet with the only consequence being expulsion from the Citadel.

  Alys cleared her throat in an attempt to keep her voice from quavering. “If he were anyone else, what would his punishment be?” Her heart thudded heavily, for though she did not have much familiarity with military discipline, she had some idea of how it operated.

  “He would be punished like a grown man,” Jailom said grimly. “And based on the charters of both Women’s Well and the Citadel, I theoretically have the jurisdiction to order him flogged without having to consult you.”

  It was harder to contain her protest this time, but Alys bit down on the inside of her cheek, willing herself to think before speaking. She did not need to peruse the charters to know that Jailom spoke the truth, though she doubted he would do it if she ordered him not to, charter or not.

  Jailom sighed. “To be perfectly honest with you, though, I’m not sure a flogging would do much to change the course he has set himself upon. Thrashings don’t seem to have taught him much, and I don’t see escalation making much of a difference.”

  Alys closed her eyes. Obviously, Jailom had something in mind other than a flogging, and that should have been a relief. She didn’t see how she could possibly harden her heart enough to allow her son to be flogged, but she also couldn’t imagine holding her head up in public if she protected her own son from the discipline other cadets of the Citadel would face for the same offense. And yet any punishment that fit this crime was bound to break her heart.

  “What do you propose?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  “Send him back to Aaltah with Tynthanal. Lord Aldnor has always had a way with troublesome youths.” Here Jailom grinned just a bit. “I’m a prime example. I went to the Citadel of Aaltah as an arrogant, angry little prick my parents could hardly wait to get rid of. Lord Aldnor shaped me into a man my parents could be proud of.”

  “Send him away…” Alys whispered. And she was right—her heart broke just saying it.

  Jailom reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze before quickly letting go. It was quite the breach of protocol for a lord commander and his sovereign princess, but Alys knew that for that moment, he saw her not as a princess but as a grieving mother.

  “Something has to change,” Jailom said. “If he continues down the path he’s on now, he is destined for a short and unhappy life. I don’t know what else to do for him here. Do you?”

  She closed her eyes in pain, for Jailom was right. She had tried time and time again to reach Corlin, and she had failed. “I can’t bear to lose a second child,” she said, her heart constricting.

  “Then send him with Tynthanal. It need not be forever. Maybe even as little as a year or two. Then he can return to Women’s Well and take up his place as the heir apparent without the people resenting him.”

  Alys opened her eyes and looked down at Smithson’s sleeping form. “You don’t think people will remember what he did when he returns?” She refused to think in terms of if.

  “I think Smithson is an extraordinary young man who will forgive Corlin for a hurt he knows was unintentional.” Once again, Jailom reached down and brushed gently at Smithson’s hair, smiling. “He was conscious when I first arrived, and he was very quick to shoulder most of the blame.”

  “I doubt his parents will be quite so forgiving,” she said sardonically. They might well feel that their boy had suffered more than enough as a cadet of the Academy already. This was twice now that he’d almost died in the course of his duties, and Alys doubted any medals or money or land grants would make this episode go down more easily.

  “Perhaps we should wait to worry about Corlin’s return until such time as the concern is more relevant. And until you’ve agreed to send him away in the first place.”

  Alys wanted to scream at the unfairness of life. But her duty as a sovereign princess was to do what was best for her principality. And her duty as a mother was to do what was best for her son.

  In this case, she could not help agreeing with Jailom that it was best to send Corlin away.

  “He will never forgive me for this,” she whispered. And I will never forgive myself for having failed him so many times.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Alys had never been one to anesthetize herself with alcohol, but a little fortification might help her to see Tynthanal and Corlin off without bursting into humiliating tears. A single dose of brandy had her head swimming just a little as she hesitated in the hallway that led into the courtyard, where her brother and son awaited her. Standing by her side, Chanlix smiled at her encouragingly.

  “It will be all right,” Chanlix assured her. “When he is older, he’ll understand.”

  Alys closed her eyes and wished she had Chanlix’s confidence. She wasn’t entirely certain she had the courage not to rescind her order of what was effectively exile if Corlin tugged on her heartstrings in just the right way.

  “I will come with you,” Chanlix tried again, although Alys had already rejected this offer twice.

  Alys took a deep breath and stood up straight and tall. “Thank you.” She forced a wan smile for the wo
man who would be the first lady chancellor in the history of Seven Wells. “But I can manage on my own.” Somehow.

  “You don’t have to be so very careful of my feelings or of Tynthanal’s,” Chanlix persisted. “Every once in a while, you should remember to take care of yourself. And this will be harder for you than for either of us.”

  Alys glanced at Chanlix’s belly. It was too soon for the new life within her to show, and the pregnancy was still not public knowledge. Alys wasn’t sure if she herself would even know yet if she hadn’t noticed Chanlix’s morning sickness, though she liked to think her friend and her brother would have given her the news shortly anyway. “Soon enough you’ll learn how much a mother will put herself through for the sake of her children. I must show my son strength, whether I feel it or not.”

  Chanlix’s eyes shone with sympathy. “I’ll be waiting right here for you when you’re done,” she promised.

  Knowing that if she delayed any longer, she would lose the last shreds of her self-control, Alys stepped out into the courtyard.

  Women’s Well couldn’t have afforded the resources to send Tynthanal and Corlin and an appropriate escort all the way to Aaltah on horseback—they still suffered a severe shortage of both horses and chevals—but the royal council of Aaltah had sent a party of their own horsemen and carriages to escort their new prince regent to Aalwell.

  Alys spotted Tynthanal and Kailee instantly, standing together with their heads bowed in quiet conversation by one of the carriages. She noted that Kailee’s hand rested lightly in the crook of Tynthanal’s elbow, and she hoped that meant her brother was treating his bride well. She couldn’t imagine Tynthanal being cruel to the girl, but she knew from personal experience that he could be perfectly polite and proper while still freezing someone out. Still, they seemed easy together, and that was a good sign.

  Tynthanal looked up when she approached, and Kailee must have sensed her presence, for she turned her body slightly in Alys’s direction and smiled her usual warm, friendly smile. The smile was so contagious Alys couldn’t help smiling back despite the heaviness of her heart.

  Tynthanal’s smile was far less genuine, though she had to give him credit for making the effort.

  “You will be an excellent regent,” she blurted awkwardly, not sure what else to say to her brother who had once been her best friend.

  Kailee’s smile brightened even further, and Alys wished she could better read the expression in her sister-in-law’s blind eyes. “That’s what I keep telling him, but he’s too modest to believe it.”

  Tynthanal grimaced. “It’s not modesty to know one’s own limitations. I was born to be a soldier, not a politician.”

  “Technically, you were born to be the King of Aaltah,” Alys reminded him, for which he gave her a dirty look. “And no one can complain about the job you’ve done as Lord Chancellor of Women’s Well.”

  She refrained from mentioning that his fairly well-known lack of interest in politics or hunger for power was probably the only reason the Council of Aaltah had felt their infant king was safe in the care of an uncle who would have been king himself had King Aaltyn not divorced his mother. No one who knew Tynthanal would fear he would harm his nephew—no matter how much he might have hated the boy’s father.

  “Women’s Well and Aaltah are two very different beasts,” Tynthanal said. “And that was true even before Delnamal made a ruin of it.”

  There was no denying that Tynthanal would have a long, hard road as regent. Especially if Aaltah’s Well failed to recover from the effects of Mairahsol’s spell. From all accounts, it was still diminished, its flow of elements significantly reduced, although at least it showed no sign of ceasing altogether.

  “I have faith that you will mend enough fences to repair the damage he did.” She frowned and glanced around the courtyard. “Where’s Corlin?”

  Tynthanal’s expression turned to one of exasperation. “He’s having a sulk in the carriage,” he said with a jerk of his thumb.

  Kailee’s smile faded into a rare frown. “That might be because someone suggested he would have ordered both banishment and a flogging in Lord Jailom’s place.”

  Tynthanal’s jaw locked in that particularly stubborn set of his. “If he’d been a cadet under my command and nearly killed another cadet in a fit of temper, then yes, I would have, given his history of bad behavior.”

  Knowing Tynthanal’s reputation as a disciplinarian, Alys believed him. Likely Corlin had, too. Which was just what the boy needed when he no doubt already felt like his own mother was abandoning him.

  Tynthanal shook his head at her. “I can see your thoughts, Alys. But there is only so much that can be excused by the trauma he’s been through. At some point, he has to take responsibility for his actions. And that point is well before he actually does kill someone.”

  “I know,” she said, gazing at the carriage. The sunlight reflected off the windows, so she could not see inside, couldn’t tell if Corlin was watching or even knew she was there.

  “Go say goodbye,” Tynthanal counseled. “He might not welcome it, but he’ll definitely hold it against you if you don’t.”

  Alys nodded and braced herself. Then she went to the carriage, and a footman hurried to open the door for her and hand her in.

  Corlin was slouched in the far corner, his arms crossed over his chest. The expression on his face, however, was more thoughtful than sullen, and for that Alys could only be grateful. She settled in the seat opposite him and tried to think of something to say to bridge the terrible gap that yawned between them.

  “Uncle Tynthanal says I should have been flogged,” he said, his voice soft and subdued.

  Alys winced and cursed her brother for making the wound deeper. She met Corlin’s eyes, and once again her voice died in her throat. He felt like a stranger to her, and though she felt guilty for thinking it, she wished she could have the old Corlin back.

  Corlin sighed and scrubbed his hand through hair that needed cutting. “He’s right.”

  Alys blinked in surprise and gasped out a quick denial.

  Corlin leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the roof of the carriage. “If I weren’t your son, I would have been. I feel like a coward, running away from the punishment I deserve.”

  Of all the objections Corlin might have had to being sent away, this was not one Alys had imagined. “You aren’t running away. You’re being sent away. There’s a difference.”

  “Explain that to Smithson,” he countered. “And his parents.”

  Alys frowned. “Lord Jailom told me that both Smithson and his parents are satisfied that you are being punished appropriately.”

  “They haven’t much choice but to say that when I’m the crown prince, do they? If the roles were reversed and Smithson had nearly killed me, would you be satisfied with sending him away?”

  “Yes,” Alys lied, the answer perhaps coming too quickly to be convincing. She’d like to think she would have hesitated to have a fifteen-year-old boy flogged, but it was hard to know what she might have done if her son had been hurt.

  Corlin expressed his skepticism with a snort. “I’m being let off lightly, and we both know it. Just as we both know it isn’t really fair.”

  Alys cocked her head and regarded her son more closely. He’d taken the news of his banishment with exactly the sort of poor grace she’d come to expect of him, but something seemed to have changed in him between then and now. She had never been one to pray, but she said a silent prayer to the Mother anyway that Smithson’s near death had finally awakened Corlin to what he’d become. And that it was not too late for him to change.

  “Maybe not,” Alys said softly. “But what Delnamal did to you and to your sister was not fair, either. There is far too little fairness in the world.”

  Corlin nodded. “But you’re trying to change that, at least here in W
omen’s Well.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I doubt there is another sovereign in all of Seven Wells—not even Queen Ellinsoltah—who would make an unmarried pregnant woman her chancellor, no matter how deserving that woman might be.”

  “Probably true,” Alys conceded. She suspected that particular appointment was going to be a source of contention in the future, but at least she had the rest of her council’s approval, even if they weren’t all equally enthusiastic about it.

  “When I come back—” Corlin’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. Fear flickered in his eyes before he visibly quelled it with an effort of will and lifted his chin. “If I’m to be the Sovereign Prince of Women’s Well someday, and if I’m to lead us in the right direction, then I should lead by example.”

  He swallowed hard and met her gaze. “When I come back, I’ll take the flogging I should have been sentenced to in the first place. I’ll be older then, so maybe you won’t feel so bad about it.”

  For a moment, Alys could only stare in shock. Was this a display of courage, or a sign that perhaps all of Corlin’s transgressions were an act of willful self-destruction? Maybe he’d been punishing himself all along for what he considered his failure to protect his sister. She shook her head, but Corlin continued insistently.

  “That’s how you’ll know I’m ready to come back. That you can trust me again.”

  It was impossible to miss the flashes of fear that slipped through the cracks of his stoic mask. Alys decided that even if he was punishing himself, it took genuine courage to make that declaration. And, though she had better sense than to say it out loud, she would never, ever allow her son to be flogged.

  Besides, this was likely an impulse of the moment, a flash of pride spurred by Tynthanal’s thoughtless commentary. She was perhaps reading too much into it. Easy to say he would take a flogging now, when such an eventuality was at least a year or two in the future.

  “Will you tell Smithson and his parents that?” Corlin asked, and there was no question in Alys’s mind that whether the impulse was genuine or not, the guilt that lay behind it was.