The Story Raider

by Lindsay A. Franklin

  The maid lowered herself to one of the padded benches in Braith’s front room. “Unbelievable. What does this mean?”

  “That is the question of the day, I suppose.” Braith sat next to her friend, a little harder than she meant to. “He is the heir.”

  “Your Majesty! You’re not considering handing him your throne, are you?”

  “I don’t know what to do, Cameria. I don’t even know what to think.”

  Cameria rose and began to pace the room. “Well, if he truly is Kharn—”

  “He is.”

  Cameria ignored her comment. “Then he is the blood heir of Caradoc II. But does that really make him king? Thirteen years have passed. And whatever means your father used to claim the throne, the fact is, he did.”

  Braith sighed. “That is true enough.”

  “And he ruled Tir for over a decade. He ought not to have been king, but he was.”

  “Also true.”

  “And you were princess. You sat on his council. Whatever your father’s character was, you have served Tir faithfully.”

  The only agreement Braith could muster was silence.

  “And you were appointed queen.”

  “By a few. It was not a vote of the people but of a tiny handful of representatives. A mere committee.”

  “That is no matter. They chose you. You are queen.”

  “Cameria.” Braith rose and strode to the window. She flung it open. “Do you not hear them?”

  The sounds of the peasants banging at the front gate floated up to the palace rooms, just as they had every day since the first week of Braith’s reign.

  “They hate me.”

  “No, they do not hate you. They don’t know you. They are angry about your father. They are weary from his oppression. And half of them are starving. This will settle once they see the sort of ruler you mean to be.”

  “But Kharn . . .”

  “Make him Lord of Wax Beans, since surely he has been hiding on some distant farm all these years while you helped rule Tir.”

  Braith turned and shot her friend a look. “Cameria. That was uncharitable.”

  “Forgive me. I just don’t understand what he hopes to accomplish, appearing suddenly when your rule is barely established.”

  “I believe he means to reclaim the throne my family stole from his.”

  “But that isn’t fair!”

  Braith laughed, but it held no mirth. “None of it is fair.”

  “You cannot just hand it to him. I won’t let you!”

  Braith shook her head. “You are so loyal, Cameria.”

  “You earned this! You are the ruler Tir needs. At last there is some hope for the people, even if they are too blind to see it.”

  Braith swallowed. “You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

  “That is my point!” Cameria insisted. “When was the last time Tir was ruled by one humble enough to admit to not knowing all the answers? The reason I know you will not falter is because you will listen to your people. You will listen to your councilors. And you will listen to that iron-rod moral center you have been blessed with.”

  Braith looked fondly at her. “You trust me too much.”

  “Stop. Please, Braith, I beg you to stop convincing yourself that Kharn would be better for Tir. You don’t even know the man.”

  “I don’t know what else to do, Cameria.”

  Cameria grabbed her hand. “We will work through this together. And you will consult your council. Do not agree to anything until you have spoken to them. And wait until Yestin returns from sea.”

  “The general? He could be away for a year.”

  “Then send a letter. Perhaps the carrier birds could intercept them at some port or another. And if not, we will stall this intruder, for that is what he is. Don’t do anything rash until you have heard from Yestin.”

  Braith laughed, and a few unbidden tears spilled out. “That may be the first time in my life anyone has accused me of being rash.”

  Cameria quieted. “Forgive me. I am not accusing. Merely cautioning. I know you, and I know that as soon as Kharn Bo-Candryd starts in on you, telling you why it is right that he sit on the throne, you will agree.”

  “Am I that spineless?”

  “No. But you do feel that much guilt over what your father did to Caradoc. And if Kharn is half the politician Dray or Naith or any of your father’s councilors were, he will exploit that guilt. And you will sign away your throne to him before supper time.”

  “You are right. And you are right that I don’t know the man. Childhood playmates do grow up, do they not?”

  “Indeed. Do everything you can to stay well away from Kharn Bo-Candryd.”

  “Yes, Cameria,” Braith responded with a smile.

  “Good.” Cameria nodded, appeased. “Shall we get you out of this heavy dress, Your Majesty?”

  “A soft dressing gown sounds heavenly. I feel I could go to sleep for the night and it is not even supper time.”

  “Let’s start with the dressing gown, at least.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Both women froze.

  After a moment, Cameria went to the door.

  Braith picked up the book she had been reading before bed the previous night. She had read it before—some long-dead general’s musings about military tactics—but it never hurt to brush up on such things.

  Cameria’s voice took on an angry note. “No, you may not—excuse me!”

  Braith sat up straight as an arrow.

  For Kharn Bo-Candryd stood in her front room, a small bouquet of snow-white velvet-petal flowers in his hands and two armored guardsmen holding either elbow. He offered the bouquet to her with some difficulty, a wry grin on his face. “Good evening, Braith.”

  “I . . .” Braith stared at the flowers, then at the guardsmen. “What?”

  “Majesty,” one of the guardsmen said. “We caught him just as he forced his way into your front room.”

  Kharn eyed the man. “I did not force. I knocked like any respectable visitor.”

  Braith looked past the velvet-petals. “I do not usually receive visitors in my front room, sir.”

  “Of course.” Kharn winced as the guards tightened their grips. “I did not think you would accept a written invitation to meet with me. So I thought I’d try this.”

  Braith raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t working out much better, though, is it?”

  “Not especially.” He winced again.

  Braith paused to consider the situation. She glanced at Cameria. “I will meet with you at my council table in the throne room with my guardsmen and my maid present. You may have thirty minutes.”

  “Excellent!” Kharn’s eyes were bright. “I’ll have tea sent.”

  “Excuse me? You’ll have tea sent to my throne room from my kitchens?” Braith took the bouquet from his hands. She passed it over to Cameria. “Please put these in water.” Then she glanced at her guards. “And if Sir Kharn misbehaves, perhaps we’ll put him in water too. Let’s go then, shall we?”

  She passed by the others and exited her private chambers, relieved that her voice hadn’t shaken.

  Braith eyed the man who sat across the council table from her. A kitchen servant placed a silver tea tray before them.

  “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” Kharn said at last.

  “The intrusion of you visiting my chambers uninvited? Or perhaps the intrusion of you showing up at my council meeting this afternoon?”

  “Both.” Kharn waited as the servant set out three cups. Then he glanced at Cameria. “Do you often take tea with your maids?”

  Cameria stiffened.

  “She is my lady’s maid,” Braith said tersely, “but she is also my friend.”

  “Oh.” Kharn turned his pleasant smile toward the Meridioni woman. “Most excellent. That is the ideal combination, is it not? And might I have the pleasure of your name?”

  Cameria did not look at all happy about it, but at last she
said, “Cameria.” The single word was clipped and annoyed.

  “Cameria En-Benatti?” Kharn’s face showed genuine surprise.

  So did Cameria’s. “Yes, Benatti was my father.”

  “I knew him.” A shadow of grief crossed him. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a fine man.”

  Cameria’s mouth opened, then closed. But no words came out. Such sentiments had not been offered in the months after Benatti’s death when Cameria was grieving his loss.

  “That is kind of you, Kharn,” Braith spoke into the silence.

  “Benatti was excellent at cards,” Kharn said. “We played often, and he must have earned a year’s wages off my foolish bets. I was just a lad, and the other nobles would let me win. But not Benatti. He said it taught me nothing to reward me for my foolishness.”

  In spite of herself, Cameria laughed tearfully. “Yes. That sounds like him.”

  Braith glanced at Cameria, who had gone from a block of ice to a puddle of sentiment in the space of a breath. She turned back to Kharn. Kharn Bo-Candryd, who seemed to be kind and was certainly charming.

  “You have twenty-four minutes, Kharn,” she said at last.

  “Ah, yes. This is a difficult position we find ourselves in, is it not?” He watched as the servant poured boiling water over three linen sacks filled with tea leaves. He took a deep breath. “I smell burnt sugar, fine black tea, and coconuts all the way from the Spice Islands. Coconuts are a bit indulgent, don’t you think, my lady?”

  Braith frowned. Of course, he would find her one indulgence. Her one weakness. She did so love coconut. “It was a tea sommelier’s suggestion. He knows my fondness for those fruits. There is only a little in there.” She frowned at Kharn again. “I do not need to explain my tea to you.”

  He chuckled. “Forgive me, Braith. I was only teasing.” Kharn added grazer cream to his cup. “A princess is allowed some indulgences, is she not?”

  “I suppose.” Braith added cream to her own cup. “But you do not really believe I was a princess.”

  “Of course you were. You sat on the princess’s throne for thirteen years. The only question is the legitimacy of your reign as queen.”

  Braith stared at him. He said it so casually. So carelessly. “Not everyone finds my reign questionable.” It didn’t come out as forcefully as she would have liked.

  “But when they hear I’m alive, I think it will be a question for everyone.” He held out a small bowl. “Sugar?”

  “No,” Braith snapped. She paused and forced herself to draw a calming breath. “No, thank you, Kharn.”

  “I don’t take it either. The tea is delicious enough. And besides, that burnt sugar in your blend”—he inhaled deeply of the vapor rising from his cup—“is sweet enough on its own, I’d wager.”

  “Yes. Would you like to spend your remaining nineteen minutes discussing tea blends?” She looked down at her cup, suddenly wary that her rival had handled it.

  Somehow, he read her thoughts plainly. “Braith. Please give me more credit than that. I would never poison anyone in the first place because it would be dastardly. And foolish, besides. My uncle was murdered with poison, and it seems a very unwise thing to try to reclaim his throne by poisoning the people’s queen with her evening tea.”

  Still, Braith would not touch her cup.

  He smiled. “Shall we trade? I’ll sip from both, if you like, but then I will have sipped from your cup, and I’m not sure that’s proper.”

  “Kharn!” She rolled her eyes. “You are just the same.”

  He laughed. “You expected I would have changed?”

  “I don’t know what I expected. Certainly not any of this.”

  Kharn’s face grew serious. “I’m sure that is true, and I am sorry for your situation. This is awkward and unpleasant, and you don’t deserve it.” He regarded her for a long moment. “You are both changed and the same.”

  Braith sniffed her tea one last time, then glanced at Cameria and took a sip. “Oh? How am I both changed and the same?”

  “You always were so grave. So serious. But something else has been added over the years. You seem sadder.”

  The word struck like a dart. “Of course. Much has happened in the thirteen years you’ve been away. Much has happened in the two moons since Gareth fell.”

  Kharn’s tone was gentle. “You have suffered much, Braith. And yet you served Tir well.”

  Braith found herself softening. “Thank you. I did try, though it was not always easy.”

  “I doubt it was ever easy with your father on the throne.”

  “Stop,” Braith said sharply.

  “Drinking tea?” Kharn took a sip. “But I rather enjoy it. Your sommelier has done well.”

  She glanced at him, then dropped her gaze to her cup. “No. You should stop talking to me about my father. It . . . isn’t right.”

  “Why not?”

  Braith had no answer. Instead she said, “You have twelve minutes to tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Here in the throne room? I’m having tea.”

  Braith shot him a look. “No, in Urian. Where have you been all these years?”

  “Hiding. On a farm.”

  “Cameria was right, then. Shall I make you Lord of Wax Beans?”

  Kharn laughed. “Lord of what?”

  “Nothing.” Shame heated her cheeks. “I was being rude. I’m sorry.”

  “I love bean salad. Can I be Lord of Bean Salad?”

  In spite of herself, Braith chuckled. “Honestly.”

  “The farm I lived on belongs to a relative of my father’s most trusted servant. It was quite prosperous. At least, as prosperous as a farm can be during years of war, blight, and famine.”

  “You never fought, did you? In the expansion wars?”

  “Indeed, no. The last thing I needed was for someone to recognize me.”

  “No, of course.” Her father would have seen Kharn’s head on a chopping block faster than he could toss a bean salad.

  “I stayed on the farm. I won’t say exactly where, just in case, but it was across the Endrol River in a sleepy little area beyond the Codewig.”

  “Just in case?” Braith’s eyebrows rose. “Just in case what?”

  “In case you might arrest those who housed me. They became my family and treated me like their own son. I would not want to see harm come to them.”

  Braith was horrified. “How could you think that?”

  “Forgive me if I’ve offended you. I don’t believe you capable of such a thing. You are a woman of character. But I am still readjusting to court life. I suppose spending half my life in hiding has made me mistrustful.”

  The funny thing was, he didn’t really look mistrustful. He looked like the young lad she knew once. His easy smile, his slightly irreverent sense of humor, his warm eyes. He didn’t look paranoid and irritable the way her father had become.

  “I only want to protect them,” he said again. “They are all the family I have left.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I should be more . . . that is, I understand.” She met his gaze. “And you didn’t deserve it either.”

  His attention lingered on her for an extra moment, and a hint of a smile played on his mouth. “Thank you, Braith. I appreciate that from you.”

  She nodded, then lifted her teacup and allowed a somewhat awkward silence to fill the room. Now what? Kharn acted like they were two old friends catching up. And, in some ways, they were.

  In others, they were anything but.

  “Shall we take a stroll in the garden?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The sun is beginning to set, and gardens are lovely at sunset.”

  “But you only have six minutes left.”

  “I thought perhaps I might request an extension.”

  “There are rioters. It isn’t safe.”

  “I’ll be there. And so will your guards. Perhaps that’s more to the point.”

  She looked at the remnants of her tea
. “You are rather unnerving company, you know, Kharn.”

  He smiled. “Am I?” Then he rose and offered his hand. “Perhaps I’m less unnerving in the fresh air.”

  Braith stood and warily accepted his arm. “I rather doubt it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  BRAITH

  Cameria tied off the end of Braith’s complicated plait. “There. Finished at last.”

  “You have gotten quite good at this, Cameria. Keep it up, and I won’t have to replace my beauticians.”

  Cameria shot Braith a look. “I will make sure to do more poorly tomorrow.”

  Braith laughed and rose from the vanity table. “The court will want an update on the investigation into my father’s death. One of my generals has a plan, I’m told, about how to handle the uprisings. I shall be interested to hear that, as long as it doesn’t involve slaughtering the people. We have a governor of a Wildland province—I’ve forgotten which—who is here with a petition. I can only assume the famine has worsened. Perhaps the eastern farms will be able to provide some aid.” She sighed. The farms had little enough to spare. “I would dig into the treasury if only it would help.”

  “Yet the peasants cannot eat money.”

  “No, indeed.” Braith frowned. “Fish? Could we pay the fishermen to hire some extra hands? There is never a shortage of fish in the sea.”

  “That is an idea. But Tirians do love their bread and porridge.”

  “We may have to adjust our tastes to suit our supply. Though the peasants will take it as a personal affront and dislike me all the more.”

  Cameria didn’t bother arguing this time.

  Braith sighed. “It’s not all they will want to discuss.”

  “The peasants?”

  “The council. They will want to talk about Kharn.” Braith had barely slept for two nights. Her sunset stroll in the garden with the young man had replayed over and over in her mind.

  What did he want from her? He seemed so friendly. So genuine. She didn’t know what to make of him.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. They will want to discuss him. And it would be wise to decide in advance what you will say.” Cameria looked at her closely. “What will you say?”

  “I . . . know not.”