“Fairly,” Phelix interjected. “We humans hunted the Vampyr almost to extinction. They might be hard to kill, but not impossible. A mortal death, followed by dousing the remains in flame, seems to be the fastest way. Their hate is justified, at least to a degree. The humans wouldn’t have taken up arms if the Vampyr hadn’t been hunting them first.”
“But humans aren’t well known outside the south-eastern corner of the world,” Audri said softly. “We haven’t spread that far. The few who have almost never return. The other races think us successful and hate us for the idea. But do they not see how we struggle? How few cities and settlements we have? How, in a week’s journey, you’re more likely to stumble upon the abandoned remnants of a camp than any kind of thriving settlement?”
“Humans have never been as strong as the other races,” Meryn said. “We never dared to journey outward like them, either, so we’re stuck learning Araenna’s history mostly second hand. But that gives the other races a power advantage, even before the gifts of their birth come into play. Humans might try, and we may have developed a few talents over the years, but we don’t have the brute strength of the Numyra or the arcane abilities of the Elves.”
“Nor the adaptability to survive underground like the Dwarves.” The elder queen shifted in her seat, pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips. “And yet, somehow, since the four Titans were taken, humans have been allowed to spread relatively uncontested.”
Camion’s brows drew together. “You think this has long been coming.”
“I do.” Audri dropped her hands. “I think humans have been tolerated. And I think there’s a greater force at work here.”
“An angry Titan, perhaps,” I murmured as puzzle pieces clicked into place. “One we’ve already suspected. Who would rejoice in wiping out a larger human population, who feels scorned because his son has been locked away for a long, long time.”
“You’re right.” Meryn caught my eye. “Valdis.”
I chewed on my lower lip. Audri grinned. “You lot catch on quick. Makes me more confident we might actually stand a chance.”
“But if it’s him, why hasn’t he shown himself?” Andimir asked.
“Why would he, with loyal servants like the Cloaked Shadows to do his bidding?” Audri waved a hand. “These are merely hunches. But my hunches are not often wrong.”
I took a moment to absorb her words and the possibilities they held. While I desperately wanted to delve deeper into her theories, I couldn’t shake all the warnings I had heard about her. Unease settled heavily in my stomach. Her palace might seem ominous on first impression, but there was an elegant grace about the carefully crafted shadows, the dark ornaments and exquisite details. She embraced the darkness, filled her home with it, and still candles shone bright from almost every surface.
Try as I might, in the very depths of my soul, I couldn’t find the instinct telling me to distrust her. She felt safe—like Mother, or Kathryn, or Drask. A light in darkness shone all the brighter, did it not? If I gave her the chance, maybe she would be a powerful ally. All I went on now was secondhand information. She could prove the Northern royalty wrong—as well as my own family.
My thoughts flicked to Wulfric. My mother. And then my sister, wherever she was. Trusting anyone at all wasn’t simple these days. Anyone could betray us in an instant, on the chance their life might be spared by the Titans.
“How do I know we can trust you with what we know?” I asked at last, squaring back my shoulders.
Audri stared at me for a moment, measuring me, then said, “You can’t, in all honesty. I know what the northern kingdom says about me and my family. Kalum is wicked. Vile. We punish harshly, our people suffer.” She waved her hand again. “Before you leave, we’ll go into town. My people do not suffer, but our rule is firm. Phelix has as much power as I to make decisions. I do not control him, nor is he under bewitchment. He’s simply not as fond of social gatherings, so his reputation as well as my own are crucified for our preferences. Scarlet isn’t a harlot because she’s beautiful and confident. She hasn’t made rounds about our kingdom, nor in fact does she have any kind of suitor at all. Disgusting, actually, that my child was involved in such vulgar nonsense, especially when there’s no basis for anything that’s been said.”
The queen scowled, her hands tightening into fists. She glared at the floor for a moment, and I almost thought she had nothing more to say, when she added, “But I don’t worship the Titans as gods. The members of your family, and more especially the rulers of Wydus, were never too fond of my religious practices. Or the lack thereof. Our beliefs have been a source of contention as long as I’ve held the throne, and my mother before. Maybe longer.”
“So, all the things I’ve heard growing up, all the stories about Kalum—” I shook my head. “But what about the treaty meeting? You were there and you left, without accepting the terms. Wouldn’t you want to join with the other two kingdoms?”
“Of course, we did. Or we wouldn’t have attended at all.” Audri sighed. “But there were religious terms in the treaty. Practices they wanted carried out in a united front at the Temple of Nahara in Thrais—since yours is the most central to the three kingdoms. Phelix and I allow our people full religious freedom. We don’t care to have our own infringed upon in a nonnegotiable contract.”
My stomach wrenched and curled in on itself. Thrais was lax with our religious practices but we had steadily worshipped Nahara for as long as I had been able to understand the concept. Wydus was worse. Their religion bordered on fanatical at times and the target of their affections varied from season to season. I could understand not wanting to be caught up with them, especially now that I was more informed on who the Ancients truly were.
Mother had never mentioned which specific terms the Kalum royals had taken issue with. I hadn’t sought out the answers either, if I were being honest. Maybe Mother knew she was in the wrong . . . or maybe Audri was lying.
The queen stared at me, not expectantly but instead scanning my face, gauging my reaction. I didn’t know what she found there—I wasn’t sure how I felt. Confused. And, in a strange way, I wished my mother were here. Not in the usual sense, with guilt and grief at the forefront, but in another way.
I wanted to know the truth, for certain.
My expression must have broken. Camion tightened the grip he held on my arm, and I relished the anchor of warm weight. I peered up at Audri. When words failed me, she spoke again.
“Do you remember what I said as I left?” She leaned toward me. “‘I will not be at the beck and call of your beliefs or paraded around as a conquest to Nahara.’ Kathryn laid out the terms in cloaked language, but they were there. Public appearances to honor Nahara, religious ceremonies, prayer festivals. All under the pretense of unifying our kingdoms, and largely at Kathryn’s insistence. Naturally, when Phelix and I decided to leave, you were told we were shunning the other kingdoms. But initially, that hadn’t been the case.”
I did remember. Or at least a few of the words. At the time, and even months later, her use of ‘beck and call’ had stuck in my mind. Mother had focused on them, too, had used the words to showcase how abrasive and crude the other queen was being. Now . . .
Now I thought Mother had merely wanted to assuage her own guilt.
My head spun.
Audri waited another beat before she said, “You can’t blame yourself. Your mother didn’t exactly treat you like her heir at the peace talks.” She cleared her throat at my raised eyebrow, hesitantly adding, “You know what I mean. You were sidelined.”
Jyn’s free hand tightened into a fist. Meryn grabbed his shoulder in warning. Camion and Andimir straightened. Before any of them could speak, I said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
The queen lifted a shoulder, confidence returning as her jewelry clinked together. “You do, I think. The situation with Prince Lucian should give you enough clarity on why exactly they insisted all the children come. Couldn’t make anything seem too su
spicious, hmm?” She paused. “I don’t mean to speak ill of your mother, Natylia. I apologize. There’s simply been a lot to make me bitter down here on the bottom.”
I could understand. She wasn’t wrong. Mother had intended I spend a lot of the treaty talks with the prince, under the pretense of furthering our studies. The behavior in Thrais after my coronation confirmed that studying wasn’t quite the motivation. I still hadn’t truly placed the blame for that situation in the proper hands, but Kathryn and Drask were just as much at fault as my mother and Lucian himself.
“You deserve to speak your side,” I said after a moment. “I need to know everything, the whole truth, if I’m to make my own decisions.”
Something like pride shimmered in Audri’s eyes before she said, “We’ll need your alliance with the northern kingdom before all this is over with, anyway. None of us are getting out of this on our own.” She looked around at my companions and took stock of the way each of us tried to hide our wounds. “I imagine today has been a lot to process, regardless. There are plenty of nicer rooms in the Eastern tower for all of you. Even your crew, pirate. Though, if any of you steal from me, you’re under Kalum’s laws. We’re not forgiving.”
“My thanks,” Andimir said. “We wouldn’t take advantage of your kindness like that.”
“Good.” Audri smiled, turning her eyes back to me. “Once you’ve had a day to recover, I’ll give you all a tour of the palace. And we can speak again.” I nodded shortly. Audri curtsied, skirts dancing around her as she released them. I stumbled when I returned the gesture, but the appreciation in her eyes made the effort worthwhile. Phelix dipped into a clipped bow, excusing himself with a kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“I’ll send a servant up with food for you all. I’m not sure we’ll be around until late tonight. Nobility and their squabbles.” Audri rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Hours, days, or weeks. Same to your sister, if ever she needs the courtesy.”
“You’ve been very kind to us, all things considered. We’re grateful,” I said.
Audri waved a hand at me. “Children aren’t their parents. You’re your own woman now. You make your own choices.” Her gaze slid across my companions before she added, “Join me in the morning, for breakfast? All of you?” When I agreed she turned on her heel, then stopped. “Think about what I said, Natylia. I know what you seek, and I know what waits on the horizon if you fail. I would gladly, and freely, offer you my aid.”
“Thank you,” I said, mustering as much sincerity as I could.
“You’re welcome. My kingdom is open to you. You may go wherever you please, and that includes in my palace. I have no secrets, despite what the rumors might say.”
I moved to go when she spoke again.
“Oh, and Natylia?” Audri’s eyes locked onto mine. “No one gets sidelined in my palace.”
Chapter 17
Our plans for touring the palace were waylaid when I slept not only the remainder of the afternoon and evening, but the entirety of the next day as well. At first, I didn’t realize how long I had slept. The sun barely peeped between the curtains when I woke and had only just begun to climb the sky for a new day.
Audri was thankfully forgiving of my absence the day prior. Jyn had made her aware of the situation and she had responded with grace. From what I gathered, the others had taken the day to rest. I was a touch jealous of the time they’d had to simply relax together, but I had clearly needed the sleep. Who knew when the luxury would be afforded again.
Breakfast was a simple affair. Scarlet was absent once more, an observation I vocalized with curiosity, only to be told she went on morning rides before her lessons. A part of me grieved the ease of leisurely riding on an unbusy day.
We toured the palace after our meal. Unlike the Thraisian palace, Kalum was a series of towers, divided by smaller levels that were stacked in uneven intervals. Their thrones sat on the third floor, in a room that jutted out from the rear of the palace. The area was a newer addition, Audri had explained, for no other reason than she wanted the glittering skylights.
A set path ran from the front of the palace for public guests, one that wound up through a side tower. But Audri led us through a side door hidden behind a painting that opened into more private areas of the palace.
The fourth floor was a partial level, split between a small library and a massive alchemical laboratorium. We almost lost Meryn to the latter. Audri had lined the windowsills with boxes overflowing with plants—herbs, flowers, vines—in all varieties. She kept the rest of the room well stocked too, the walls brimming with shelves crammed with jar after jar of strange ingredients.
“Science is magic summoned by our minds,” she had said. “I may not be able to conjure the elements, but I can certainly put on a show.”
When afternoon came, she asked me to walk through Kalum with her. At first, I was wary. She had alluded that she wanted this to be the two of us, alone, and Jyn wasn’t having it. After an hour of arguing with him, I went straight to Audri and laid the problem at her feet. Like the adult I was trying to be.
“Oh,” she said, pink flushing her cheeks. “I hadn’t actually meant to exclude Jyn in that statement. I kind of assumed you and he were a packaged deal.”
The Elf huffed from behind me, muttering “damn right” under his breath.
Audri grinned at him. “You can wear your cloaks as well, if you like. None of my people will bother you without them, but I cannot say who walks through my kingdom.”
“And being seen with me will paint a great red target on Kalum,” I said softly.
The queen shrugged. “We’ve always been the unpopular kingdom. I look forward to deserving it.” With that she reached behind her, into the space between her throne and Phelix’s. “Here. A loan—Phelix will have my head if I gift this one to you.”
She smiled, holding a sheath toward Jyn. The jeweled hilt glittered under the skylights. But Jyn only cared about the cold steel, his eyes lighting with glee when the weapon was strapped to his side.
Kalum’s main city was north of the palace, wrapped around a river that served as their major trade transport. At night, their buildings held the almost dark feeling of the palace—built of grooved stone that deepened the shadows and roofed with slate, I assumed from the Dwarven mines. This far south, they didn’t see many of the travelers that Thrais did, but we’d held a healthy trade contract with them for generations past. I had to imagine the Dwarves did as well.
My boots traveled easily over the well-maintained road. I stared around at the bustling community, the cooling afternoon air filled with laughter, and I paused.
This wasn’t the city of darkness, poverty, and horror I had been raised to believe existed. Deep inside, I had to have known that if a city was in such poor condition, the northern kingdoms would intervene. Kalum didn’t need our aid, though, because the shadows were dark but they weren’t uninviting.
In fact, as I looked around, I took in the sheer amount of life and color that flickered through the city around me. More than Thrais ever had, in some ways. Smiling faces, friendly, idle chatter. Against the dark stone buildings there were orange pumpkins, and gourds mottled with green and yellow. Dried corn husks lay splayed over squares of hay. Candles hung from the barren trees. The scent of spices and baking bread filled the air. Brightly colored flowers peeked out from window sills.
I glanced at Audri. “Is your city always this festive?”
She shook her head, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth. “No. Autumn Solstice is soon. We do make quite the event of it, though.”
Jyn’s hooded face turned in my direction. Autumn Solstice. The day of my birth, though I hoped he would let that fall to the wayside. Celebrating the day had always been a bit awkward for me anyway, but this year . . .
Not this year.
I returned my attention to the city, reeling over how much time had slipped past since my coronation. A woman near the tavern had drawn a crowd and I followed
Audri closer, curious. The performer picked up a candle and blew. A blast of fire shot from between her lips. Around us, the small crowd exploded into loud cheers before she gestured to the man beside her. He bowed elaborately, then drew his sword.
Then he swallowed the entire length.
The whole blade—up to the hilt—went into his throat. I winced, but couldn’t look away, even when he began a slow, meticulously-paced dance around the firebreather.
“Practice for the main event,” Audri said quietly. “You’d be amazed what they can do when they combine their talents.”
I studied her for a moment. Audri was utterly calm, completely unphased by the groups of people bustling by. The crowds that—had I not been well-hidden beneath my cloak—would have sent me retreating, didn’t even cause her to flinch. In fact, the opposite. When a woman dropped a basket of hand-knitted gloves and they scattered across the ground, Audri knelt, hurriedly helping her gather them. A drunken man passed from the tavern, coins falling from his pockets, and she pressed them back into his palm with a stern, mothering expression. He apologized, so far under the drink he hadn’t realize who had helped him. She simply patted his arm before sending him along.
Most of the passing people acknowledged her kindly, then moved along. The few who stopped were treated with warmth. They didn’t flinch at the hooded figures tailing their queen, either. They trusted her implicitly, believed in her. And she in them, if the way she applauded the performers was any indication.
Audri wasn’t the queen I had expected. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her. From the uncomfortable shuffling of Jyn’s feet, I could tell he was feeling guilty about his own judgments as well. One could get by on pretense in diplomatic affairs, like a treaty meeting. Pull the wool over the eyes of a handful of royals seen once a year—less often, in Audri’s case.
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