The Queen of Ieflaria

by Effie Calvin

“Do you know how many babies are born in Ieflaria with Talcia’s magic?” asked Esofi. “I asked Archmage Eads yesterday. One in ten thousand.”

  “That’s bad?” guessed Adale.

  “I’ve never heard of worse.” Esofi shook her head, setting her curls bouncing. “But this must be why. Once we restore her worship, she will look upon Ieflaria more kindly. I only wonder how she managed to fall out of favor to begin with.”

  Adale said nothing. She had always been of the opinion that if the gods truly did exist, they cared little for Inthya below. But Esofi spoke of them as though she knew them personally.

  “I’ve been told that your parents will take petitions today,” said Esofi. “I would like very much to observe them.”

  “Oh,” said Adale in surprise. “If you’d like.” Once every month, her parents would open the castle gates and grant audiences with common Ieflarians. It usually ended in sending out more supplies and soldiers to small settlements that she had never heard of. Adale had not been to one since Albion’s death, for he was no longer there to urge her into attendance.

  “My parents only opened their throne room once every six months,” said Esofi. “I suppose since Rhodia’s population is so much lower than Ieflaria’s, there was less of a need. I am eager to see what issues your citizens find most pressing.”

  “It will be nothing but requests for aid against the dragons,” predicted Adale. “They’re striking all across the country. It’s strange—they’ll cross our borders and fly peacefully for days, unless intercepted. Then suddenly they’ll decide they’ve had enough of a certain town. You’d expect they’d simply attack the first settlement they come upon.”

  “Yes, I had heard,” Esofi murmured.

  “Well, let’s hope they don’t ruin too much of our harvest this year,” said Adale. “I don’t know how much we have left in the storehouses.”

  “You don’t?” Esofi gave her that wide-eyed look of surprise that Adale was rapidly growing accustomed to.

  “Here, the throne room is this way,” said Adale quickly. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll have to stand in the back.”

  In fact, they still had about half an hour before the audiences began, but something about the line of conversation was making Adale feel terribly inadequate.

  Albion would have known, an ugly voice inside of her chastised. Albion could have told her exactly how many grains of wheat are left in the storehouses.

  They reached the throne room as it was beginning to fill, and Adale took a spot near to her parents’ thrones, determined to show that she could be a responsible heir if she chose to be. Knight Commander Glaed was already there in his usual place, with Sir Livius just behind him. Both wore chain mail beneath dazzlingly white tabards, marked on the chest with an image of the sun.

  Adale supposed they’d been there for an hour, probably discussing the evils of sleeping in late and eating cake. She could not understand why a person might be compelled to join the Order of the Sun.

  “Crown Princess,” the Knight Commander said, not completely managing to keep a note of surprise from his voice.

  “Don’t start with me, Glaed,” said Adale darkly. On top of swearing off drinking, gambling, and having any sort of fun at all, Paladins of the Sun were also forbidden to tell even the smallest of lies. Because of that, Glaed had never disguised his disapproval of her. But it seemed Glaed wasn’t in the mood to criticize her today, and instead, he turned his gaze to Esofi.

  “It is an honor, Princess,” he said, bowing deeply. “I am Glaed of Armoth, Knight Commander of the Order of the Sun in Ieflaria. My companion is Sir Livius, formerly Knight Commander of the Order of the Sun in Xytae. We are both at your service.”

  “Thank you, Knight Commander,” said Esofi. “I am told your paladins have been instrumental in protecting Ieflaria’s people. It is fortunate that you are so numerous here—I don’t think I’ve gone more than a day without seeing a paladin somewhere since I stepped off the ship.”

  “The Order of the Sun has withdrawn their support from the Xytan Empire,” said Sir Livius. He was a Xytan native, tall and olive-skinned with silver streaking his dark hair. “For many years, Emperor Ionnes overstepped himself and paid tribute to Reygmadra above Iolar. Still, for the sake of defending the people of Xytae, we intended to remain loyal. But last autumn, the emperor announced that we would join his soldiers in Masim.”

  Adale remembered the outrage that had followed the announcement. The Order of the Sun did not wage wars of conquest, and she couldn’t imagine what Emperor Ionnes must have been thinking to even attempt to order such a thing. The Paladins of the Sun stationed in his empire might have been his citizens, but everyone knew they were more akin to priests than soldiers.

  “I sent a courier to the Justices,” continued Sir Livius, naming the highest tier of the Order of the Sun. “They ordered all those who were stationed within Xytae’s borders to find more worthy posts. Some went to Masim to aid the Masimi in defending their homeland from Xytae. But most of us could not bear the thought of fighting our own countrymen and came to Ieflaria instead.”

  “It is fortunate that you did not have to go so far from your home,” said Esofi. “I hope that someday Emperor Ionnes will be penitent and allow you to return.”

  Not too soon, though, thought Adale. We need their protection far more than Xytae does.

  “I do as well,” Sir Livius said, inclining his head. “Every sunrise, I pray that he comes to see reason. But I fear I will not see my homeland again until the day he joins Asterium.”

  Adale was surprised at the admission, since she had never heard any of the paladins speak of longing for anything. But Esofi only nodded in silent understanding.

  “Oh look,” said Adale as a familiar yellow-clad figure entered the room. “Knight Commander, it’s your dearest companion.”

  It was very amusing to see Glaed’s jaw clench at the sight of the archpriest. One might be inclined to believe the two would find common ground in their shared devotion to Iolar, but this was not the case. It seemed that the only thing the two agreed upon was their mutual disdain.

  “Pompous, prideful, corrupt old man,” Glaed muttered. “What does he believe he can do for the petitioners? Squeeze a few more coins from them?”

  “Watch this, I’m going to see if I can get them to fight,” Adale told Esofi.

  “Adale!” scolded Esofi.

  But any minor scandal that Adale might have orchestrated was averted by the arrival of King Dietrich and Queen Saski. The co-regents took their seats, and the first petitioner of the day was shown in.

  As Adale had predicted, it was a man from a northern town, asking for more guards and more supplies. He was a woodsman by trade and expressed fear that the dragons would burn down the forests if there weren’t more soldiers stationed in the north.

  “Archpriestess Gerta has repeatedly stated that there are no more soldiers in the Ieflarian army left to send without removing protection from another settlement,” King Dietrich said. He looked to Knight Commander Glaed. “Can any paladins be reassigned?”

  “Our priority is the farmlands in the south,” said Glaed. “If the dragons burn our fields before the harvest, it will not matter how many soldiers are stationed at our borders.”

  “But the dragons are attacking from the north!” cried the woodsman. “Our lands are nearest to the Silver Isles. We are in far greater danger! We are citizens of Ieflaria as much as any farmer. Are we not entitled to the same protections?”

  Now Adale remembered why she never attended these audiences. They made her want to crawl into her bed and never return to the awful outside world.

  “Woodsman,” said King Dietrich, “I would grant you your request if I had even a single soldier to spare. But I do not. Nor does the Order of the Sun. I will grant you all the supplies your people need, but—”

  “What about her?” demanded the man, turning to point directly at Esofi, drawing shocked gasps and murmurs from the crowd. “The entire cou
ntry saw her arrive with her army! Or are they meant to huddle around the castle and protect the royalty alone?”

  “Woodsman,” repeated King Dietrich in a far less gracious tone than the one he’d been using a moment before. “You forget yourself.”

  “Am I wrong to expect protection from my future queen?” Desperation, it seemed, had overcome the man’s common sense. “Why is she here, if not to save us from the dragons?”

  The guards were already coming forward, and Adale felt pity for the man. But Esofi raised her hand, and they paused.

  “May I speak?” she asked.

  There was no movement in the throne room for a long moment. After sharing a glance with Queen Saski, King Dietrich nodded.

  Adale could see the tremble of Esofi’s jaw, but when she spoke, her voice betrayed no anxiety.

  “Woodsman,” Esofi said. “I understand your fear and your frustration. There is no rapid solution, which is difficult to hear in such desperate times. Yes, I brought battlemages to Ieflaria with me. But my mages are few in number, and we must assign them judiciously, or else their journey will have been for naught. We have not yet decided where they will be assigned, but I swear to you that I will remember your words when it comes time to send them to their posts. Can you accept this?”

  Adale was surprised to notice that Esofi’s entire body was now tensed, as though she was expecting the man to leap forward and strike her. But the man seemed to relax. He lowered his head and nodded.

  “I think this petition is complete,” said King Dietrich. “You may report to the storehouses for aid. One of the clerks will assist you. Who is next?”

  Adale turned to Esofi, who was still staring at the space where the woodsman had stood.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “The princess needs air,” said the tallest of Esofi’s ladies, gripping Esofi by the arm. Lexandrie? Was that her name? “Come, this room is far too crowded anyway.”

  Lexandrie steered Esofi from the room, with the other two hurrying after. Meanwhile, the second group of petitioners had come in and were beginning to complain to the king and queen that the priestesses of Dayluue had put that statue out again.

  Adale looked at Lethea. “Come on, we have to go after them.”

  “Do we?” asked Lethea. “I want to hear this.”

  Adale grabbed her friend and dragged her after the Ieflarians. They passed more petitioners waiting outside but did not stop until they’d reached a quieter area of the palace. Adale was able to direct them to a sitting room, which fortunately was not in use when they arrived. Esofi sank down onto one of the sofas, while the youngest waiting lady fanned her with a handkerchief.

  “The nerve of him!” seethed the girl. “Does nobody in this country have any manners?”

  “Why did you bother to respond to him?” demanded Lexandrie, as if she thought she were Esofi’s mother. “He didn’t deserve your words.”

  “He was frightened,” Esofi protested. “And the guards were going to throw him out.”

  “They should have!”

  “For not wanting to be eaten by a dragon? Is that a crime?”

  Esofi and Lexandrie glared at each other for a long moment.

  “Don’t fight,” said the youngest waiting lady. “It turned out all right, didn’t it? He got an answer and he left.”

  “He was not entitled to any answers, Mireille!” Lexandrie snapped.

  Adale suddenly felt an appreciation for her own waiting ladies, whom she had been allowed to select for herself. She couldn’t imagine having to endure being assigned whomever her mother picked.

  “Enough,” said Esofi. “Both of you, please.”

  In the ensuing silence, Adale slid into the space beside Esofi. “Are you well?”

  Esofi gave a brittle laugh. “Oh, of course I am. I was just a little startled. I’ve never been spoken to in such a way by a commoner. My guard was down. Do you think I responded well?” She looked into Adale’s eyes earnestly, and Adale felt her face begin to grow uncomfortably warm.

  “I do,” said Adale.

  Esofi nodded to herself. “At home, I was always comfortable around the lower classes because I knew they would never second-guess me,” she said in a low voice. “Even if I said something very silly. But everything is so different here. I feel as though I am off-balance.”

  “That was unusual, even for our outspoken people,” Adale reassured her. “Our citizens might not be so formal as Rhodia’s, but they are respectful. I believe he only singled you out because he was desperate.”

  “You are probably right,” Esofi agreed. “Do you truly believe I responded well? Perhaps I should have done a better job of explaining—”

  “Now you’re being silly!” cried Adale. For a moment, Esofi stared at her with an expression of pure shock, but then she saw the smile on Adale’s face and began to smile as well.

  “Pardon me, Your Highnesses,” said a new voice. Adale looked around to see a servant standing just outside the doorway. He had a sealed letter clutched in one hand. “I’ve a message for Princess Esofi from Lord Theodoar of Leikr.”

  Adale’s heart sank. She’d almost forgotten about this part.

  Esofi looked surprised but accepted the envelope. “Lord Theodoar. He’s one of your entourage, isn’t he?”

  “I…” Adale looked at the note helplessly, wondering if there was any way she could snatch it away without looking like she had been struck mad. Esofi was already breaking the seal and unfolding it.

  “How very odd,” said Esofi after a long pause. “He says that there is a matter of great importance he wishes to discuss with me.” Esofi looked up at Adale. “Do you have any idea what this might be about?”

  Adale felt that this was a very unfair question.

  “He asks me to meet with him in the east courtyard.” Esofi frowned, her white face powder leaving a crease behind in her forehead.

  “Allow me to accompany you, then,” said Adale. “Theodoar is my trusted friend, and I do not believe he would mean you harm, but I’m afraid he might be about to do something foolish.”

  Esofi looked up at Adale again, a flicker of suspicion in her face. “Very well. If you will show me the way? I fear I have forgotten.”

  “Of course,” said Adale. But then Esofi got to her feet and strode from the room, hands clutching so tightly at her parasol that Adale thought she might splinter the wooden handle. Adale made the mistake of glancing back at Esofi’s ladies. None of them were smiling. The littlest one looked Adale directly in the eyes, her face as cold as marble. Then, very slowly, she raised one finger up to her own pale neck and drew a line across it.

  “This is not my fault,” Adale muttered through gritted teeth. “This is everyone’s fault except mine!”

  But it seemed that Esofi had not required directions at all and successfully led them to the courtyard without a word. Theodoar’s familiar silhouette was waiting on the green, and he was not alone. His own servants were there, along with some of the nobles who had been on the hunt yesterday.

  Esofi did not falter in her step, though the waiting lady who had just threatened to murder Adale pushed ahead so that she and the princess were shoulder to shoulder.

  “Princess Esofi of Rhodia,” said Theodoar as she approached. “And…Adale?”

  “Lord Theodoar,” Esofi replied. “I received your message. Is all well?”

  Theodoar pulled himself into a very formal pose. “Unfortunately, it is not,” he announced in a voice that carried across the courtyard. “I cannot allow you to be engaged to Crown Princess Adale without first challenging you to single combat for the right.”

  “What?” cried Adale. At the same moment, the little waiting lady made a sudden move, as though she meant to lunge at Theodoar and tear his throat out. But Esofi’s parasol shot out and caught her across the chest before she could take even a step.

  “Single combat?” repeated Esofi. She gave a small laugh. “Do you think I am some silly courtesan who has c
ome to your country on a whim? My parents signed my marriage contract when I was three years old. Do you think Their Majesties will care what the result of your game is?”

  “I have made my challenge,” said Theodoar. “You may choose your weapon, or your champion.”

  “This is not happening,” insisted Adale. “Theodoar! What are you thinking?”

  “I’m doing this for you, Adale.” He looked at her in surprise. “I thought that this was what you wanted.”

  “I don’t know what I want!” cried Adale.

  “What is he talking about?” asked Esofi, finally acknowledging her.

  “I…” Adale found that she didn’t know how to begin explaining. “It’s…it is complicated. But never mind that now. I will fight for you.”

  “You certainly will not!” snarled the littlest waiting lady, shoving herself forward so that she and Adale were practically chest to chest, or perhaps chest to stomach. “Princess, I will fight for you, and I will kill this insolent toad where he stands.”

  “It is not meant to be a fight to the death!” cried Adale.

  “Enough,” said Esofi, and even though she did not raise her voice, something in her tone compelled them all to silence. “Lord Theodoar, tell me the laws of single combat in your country.”

  Theodoar nodded, though one eye was locked on Esofi’s murderous waiting lady. “It is a straightforward affair, and, as the crown princess said, only until the drawing of first blood, or until someone surrenders. You may fight using a weapon of your choosing. If you win, you may sign the marriage contract with the crown princess uncontested. If you do not, you will pursue her hand no longer.”

  Adale knew that not even Theodoar believed that last part, but at least now she understood his plan. Winning the duel would delay the marriage proceedings long enough for them to escape the castle, assuming he was able to defeat whomever Esofi selected. Though Theodoar was unquestionably gifted with a sword, Adale had no doubt that the waiting lady was more than capable of murdering him, and might even be proud to be arrested for it.

  “Very well,” said Esofi, and handed her parasol to Adale.