The Burning Kingdoms

by Sally Green

  “Is that true?” she demanded.

  Davyon nodded reluctantly. “My apologies, Your Majesty. The king didn’t want you to know until after the operation.”

  “Well, I certainly know now.”

  The silence seemed to go on. No one moved.

  Catherine’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned and left the tent.

  Ambrose wanted to curl up in a hole, or rewind time and take his words back. But it was too late. “Davyon, I apologize. I—”

  “I’m not interested in your apology,” Davyon seethed. “This isn’t about you, Sir Ambrose. You’re here to discuss the war and to make sure you don’t fail in your mission. Now let’s get on with it.”

  CATHERINE

  NORTHERN PITORIA

  Love is madness; love is free; love rarely lasts for eternity.

  Pitorian saying

  CATHERINE LAY on her bed, holding the bottle of purple smoke to her chest. She wanted to speak to Tzsayn but didn’t know what to say to him. What could she say? Losing a limb would be bad enough, but if the best doctors in Pitoria couldn’t save his leg, there were no guarantees they’d save his life. Why hadn’t he told her?

  “Have you used any of that stuff?”

  It was Tanya, standing in the doorway, hands on hips.

  “Not yet, but I’m going to.” Even if the smoke no longer gave her strength, it might help her forget her misery.

  Tanya marched over, saying, “Not if I have anything to do with it,” and she snatched the bottle out of Catherine’s grasp.

  “Give that back!” Catherine sat up and held her hand out.

  Tanya didn’t move.

  “That’s an order.”

  “No,” Tanya replied, holding the bottle out of reach. “And that’s a refusal.”

  “Shall I call the guards and have them take it from you?”

  “Well, as you’re the queen and I’m merely the dresser, you could do that.”

  Catherine was half-tempted just to show Tanya . . . but show her what? She flopped back on the bed. “Please leave me alone.”

  “Can’t oblige you there either, Your Majesty. I’ve spoken to Davyon.”

  “Good for you.”

  “And Savage.”

  Catherine tensed. Did she want to know what the doctor had said? Was there worse news? She raised her head. “What did he say?”

  “They’ve only just decided to amputate. It’s the only route to take—medically, I mean. As you were due to go to the coast to see the Calidorian ships, Tzsayn wanted it done while you were away. He wanted to save you from distress.”

  “Well, it hasn’t saved me from anything.”

  “No, but it might save the king some distress if he thought you still didn’t know.”

  Catherine’s eyes filled with tears. “So I’m supposed to go off to look at some boats and hope my husband is still alive when I get back?”

  Tanya raised an eyebrow. “Your what?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Whatever Tzsayn is to you, at this moment he’s trying to save you some pain. I’m sure he’s feeling helpless and wants to have some control over something in his life.”

  Catherine thought Tanya was right. But she was still hurt and angry. “Just last week he talked to me about being honest. Ha!”

  She thought back to that conversation and then to their most recent one. He’d not pushed her for a marriage decision and even said she could have more time. More time until after his operation. “He . . . he knows he may not survive.” Catherine looked at Tanya, tears in her eyes.

  “I can’t imagine he wants to lie to you, but he’s trying to do what he thinks is best. He cares for you very much.”

  “And I care for him.”

  “Enough to play along with his plan?”

  “I don’t know.” Catherine was due to leave for the coast the following day. She’d be gone for three nights. Davyon would be here with Tzsayn. He was Tzsayn’s closest friend and companion and would be at his side. Still, it felt like she was being pushed out. “Davyon will be with him and I’ll be looking at ships.” She felt it should be the other way round—she wanted it to be the other way round.

  “Savage says the operation will take some time, and the king will be given a sleeping potion,” Tanya said cautiously. “He’ll not wake at all for over a day. Then they’ll keep him sedated until the pain lessens.”

  “But what if he doesn’t wake at all?”

  “Savage says there’s a good chance that all will go well.”

  “A slim chance it’ll go badly, then.”

  “You can’t do anything to change that by remaining here.”

  “I know that.”

  “So . . . shall I set out your traveling clothes for tomorrow?”

  Catherine curled up on her bed and mumbled, “I don’t know. Let me think.”

  Tanya left and Catherine lay quietly for a while. She had to go and see the ships; that was her duty, but not her only duty. The Calidorians could wait two days, but if she delayed her departure until after the operation, then she’d be away when Tzsayn was awake and recovering, and she’d hate to leave him at that time too.

  She had to make a choice. And linked to that choice was the other choice between Tzsayn and Ambrose.

  Catherine gazed up at the canopy above her.

  I have to see Ambrose.

  AMBROSE

  NORTHERN PITORIA

  AMBROSE PACED outside the war council tent, cursing his own stupidity.

  Idiot! Idiot!

  The rest of the meeting had been a disaster. Catherine had not returned, and Davyon would barely speak to him, while Hanov and Ffyn hardly knew where to look or what to say.

  Why had he made that joke about Tzsayn’s health? Admittedly it irked him that Tzsayn seemed to have Catherine’s favor. But to let that rivalry affect his behavior so much as to shame himself with thoughtless, childish comments? Unforgivable.

  Ambrose imagined that he and Tzsayn might have been friends under other circumstances. He admired the king’s bravery and kindness. And Tzsayn had been tortured by Aloysius just as Ambrose’s brother and sister had been, so shouldn’t Ambrose feel extra sympathy toward him? But he didn’t. What was wrong with him? Was he inhuman? Was his love for Catherine driving out whatever noble qualities he might once have possessed?

  He was still pacing when Tanya hurried up to him.

  “Catherine wants to see you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, Sir Ambrose, but you’ve certainly set the cat among the pigeons.”

  Ambrose followed Tanya through the royal enclosure and into an open marquee by a stream, where she left him alone. The table was laden with papers, indicating that this was where Catherine worked. The location was beautiful—the stream bubbling through the camp, the arrangement of silk carpets and curtains, water, grass, ferns. And now he saw that Tanya was walking to the other side of the stream, as if he was on a playhouse stage and she was there to watch.

  “Sir Ambrose.”

  He turned to see Catherine. Her skin was pale and her eyes were red from crying.

  “Your Majesty.” Ambrose bowed. “Please, may I speak first?”

  Catherine nodded.

  “I can only apologize for my behavior earlier today. I was unpardonably rude and insensitive. I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “We all make mistakes, Ambrose. We all say things we shouldn’t,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any pain.”

  “I was shocked at first, but you weren’t to know Tzsayn’s situation. After all, we have deliberately kept secret the se-verity of his wounds. And now it seems even I didn’t know the full story. But I’ve had the morning to t
hink about it, and that has made me think of other things too. Of my feelings for Tzsayn . . . and for you.”

  “I’ve ruined the good opinion you had of me, haven’t I? I can see it.”

  Catherine shook her head. “My opinion of you hasn’t changed, Ambrose. I don’t think it ever will. You have always been a dear friend to me. You’ve seen me through so many troubles; it would be stupid of me to let one small mistake undo all that.”

  “I’ve been more than a good friend to you, I hope.” Ambrose wanted to step closer, but something about her poise kept him back.

  “You have been my first love and my most faithful friend and supporter.”

  First but not last?

  Ambrose had to say something. “Your lover and your fighter. That was the phrase we used.”

  Catherine blushed a little. “And I will always love you. Always. You’re part of me, my history, my journey here.” She put her hand on her heart. “And here.” Then she smiled and put her hand on her head. “And here too. And I would not change that, even if I could. I do not wish to hurt you, but as much as I love you, I also love Tzsayn.”

  Ambrose swallowed, dread filling him. It wasn’t so much her words but the way she spoke them—with a certainty that he’d never heard from her before. But still, he had to ask.

  “And you choose Tzsayn?”

  “He’s right for me, Ambrose. I finally realized it this morning after hearing what was going to happen to him. It’s Tzsayn that I truly love. It’s Tzsayn that I want to be with.”

  Tzsayn, Tzsayn, Tzsayn. “He kept you away from me. Even now he contrives to do it. He plays with people like they’re chess pieces.”

  “No, Ambrose. Circumstances kept us apart. Society, appearances . . . whatever you want to call it. But, much as I missed you, I was able to endure our separation. If I’m apart from Tzsayn, if anything happens to him now, I know my feelings will be . . . deeper.”

  “And you know too that he may not survive the week.” Ambrose felt cruel saying it.

  “I do. But I’ll risk that, because I can see that the future with him, if we’re allowed it, will be best for us both. We’re alike; we want the same things; we can make each other happy. And that’s the difference. I was never sure I could make you happy by being me. With Tzsayn, I know that the more I become my true self, the more our relationship blossoms.”

  It was over. There was no way to argue or plead. Ambrose had run out of words. He looked across the stream at Tanya, who was standing, watching. This place and these people were a part of him. He’d fought for them, bled for them. His brother had been killed, his sister executed too. His father was probably dead. His lands lost forever. Everything seemed to be lost.

  What was it all for?

  Ambrose had an overwhelming urge to get on his horse, ride out of the camp, and keep going.

  As if Catherine was reading his thoughts, she spoke again. “Ambrose, I have a feeling you’re thinking of leaving us. But I ask you to resist that urge. You’ve saved my life and Tzsayn’s too. If it weren’t for you, all of Pitoria would be lost. We owe you so much and I know you’ve given so much already, but I still ask that you fight on with us. Lead the mission to the demon world. You are a great soldier, but you’re an even greater leader. Help us and continue the fight against my father.”

  Could he do it? Did he want to do it? Ambrose felt like gathering Catherine in his arms and sweeping her away. But this wasn’t the Catherine of even just a few weeks ago. The girl had gone, and now there was a woman. Well, he was a man to match her. He stood straighter, his head up. “I’ll fight, Catherine. I’ll lead the attack into the demon world. But not for you, or for Tzsayn, or even for Pitoria, but for me, my family, and Brigant.”

  And, as he said it, he knew it was the right decision and there’d be no changing it.

  CATHERINE

  NORTHERN PITORIA

  Truth is like a diamond—precious and hard.

  Pitorian saying

  CATHERINE NEEDED to calm down after Ambrose left. He’d been upset, obviously, and was probably angry and very hurt and many other things, but she had to believe that he could cope with his feelings. She was upset too, but she’d managed to master her emotions, though tears filled her eyes as she remembered the look of hurt on Ambrose’s face. But her responsibility now was not to Ambrose but to Tzsayn. She wanted to be with him more than anything. She ran out of her tent and to Tzsayn’s bedchamber, slowing as she approached his sleeping figure, and sat close to him, taking his hand and kissing it.

  “That’s good to wake to.”

  Catherine smiled and kissed his hand again. “I leave at dawn for my journey to the coast. I thought I’d sit with you for the rest of this afternoon. If you don’t mind.”

  “I definitely do not mind.”

  She kissed his hand again.

  He squinted at her. “You seem different.”

  “Do I?”

  She had to find a way of telling him about her decision.

  “And how did the council go this morning?”

  “The war council?”

  “Yes, the war council. The one Sir Ambrose was invited to. I assume he attended?”

  “He most certainly did. He’s had his hair dyed crimson. Who’d have thought anyone with such brightly colored hair could still be so . . . manly.”

  “Who indeed? And was anything discussed at the meeting besides Ambrose’s hairstyle?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what was discussed at the meeting. I didn’t stay.”

  “What? Why not? What’s been going on?” Tzsayn frowned.

  “The truth has been going on.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “By chance I heard the truth. A difficult truth, but one I needed to hear.” Catherine lifted his hand again and kissed it. “The truth that they’re going to . . . that your leg is worse than I realized . . . than you told me. That Savage is going to operate.” Tears filled her eyes.

  Tzsayn struggled to sit up. “Who told you?”

  “No one told me. I overheard Davyon saying something. But don’t blame him. You should have told me.”

  “I judge differently. And Davyon should have kept his mouth shut. He’s supposed to be discreet. That’s his job.”

  “Well, sometimes even Davyon makes a mistake. He cares about you very much.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “And I care for you very much too. I care that you planned to deceive me. I know that you did it for the best of reasons, but when we spoke last week you talked about honesty, and yet you chose to hide this from me. I wasn’t sure what to do about it, if I should play along and go and buy some ships.”

  “Obviously you decided against that sensible course of action.”

  Catherine ignored his comment and continued with her speech.

  “I don’t want you to deceive me, ever. And I won’t deceive you. On anything. Big or small. I won’t pretend I don’t know about this—it’s too important. It’s hurt me that you thought I’d be better off not knowing. I don’t want us to have a relationship with any lies or pretense . . . not if we’re going to be husband and wife.”

  Tzsayn went very still. “Husband and wife?”

  “Indeed.”

  “So . . . are you saying that you agree to marry me for real?” Tzsayn asked, a half-smile playing on his face.

  “Yes, that is what I’m saying.”

  Tzsayn pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want to take you in my arms but I’m too weak.”

  Catherine gently leaned forward and kissed his lips. “You asked me to choose my future. I choose a future with you.”

  “Really? Even though . . . my leg.”

  Catherine kissed him on the lips again. “I love you. With or without the leg.”

  “You know I lied because I was
trying to . . .” Tzsayn stopped when he saw her look. “Fine, I won’t make excuses about that. But I don’t want you to cancel your trip.”

  Catherine nodded. “I wish I could. I wish I could be with you. It’ll hurt me to leave, but I have to sign the loan agreements. Only the royal seal will suffice, or, knowing the Calidorians, they’ll sail their ships away again. And every day we don’t have them means we’re vulnerable.”

  “I wish you could stay, but we’re both strong. We’ll get through this.”

  But are you strong enough?

  Perhaps. Catherine stared at Tzsayn’s thin face, and it seemed to her it had already changed. He was smiling and there was delight in his eyes.

  “Yes, we’re both strong,” Catherine repeated. “We’ll get through this.”

  “And when you return, we’ll have the coronation.” He leaned forward and whispered, “And, before that, the marriage ceremony, which I long for much more.”

  “I love you very much.”

  Tzsayn smiled. “And I love you. I will do my best to be the husband you deserve. I won’t lie or deceive—and I will get out of this damned bed and, even with one leg, I’ll stand with you.”

  TASH

  DEMON TUNNELS

  TASH CLIMBED up the slope, the stone parting before her. In her mind she held an image of the Northern Plateau, of sunlight and trees and a stream. She was thirsty and tired but suddenly the darkness around her was no longer a red-dark but a blue-dark. There were little spots of silver light above her—stars.

  Tash put her arms up, hardly daring to believe it.

  Please don’t be a dream.

  She scrambled up the slope and her hand touched cool earth—not stone but soil, which she dug her fingers into. The air was chillingly cold and she collapsed on the ground, rolling onto her back, then crawling to a tree to put her arms round it like an old friend. The bark scratched her cheek.

  “It’s real. I’ve made it.”