The Broken Throne

by Christopher Nuttall

  Alassa’s face went blank. “And those who fought for me?”

  “They can hardly be blamed for following the orders of their feudal lords,” Randor said. His tone was almost jovial. “They would be forgiven, of course. Your husband” – he nodded to Jade – “would be welcome to return to your side. Your friends would be granted pardons for actions done in your name. They would have nothing to fear from me.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Alassa said, dryly. “And what will you offer in return?”

  Randor’s eyes narrowed. “In return?”

  “For my surrender,” Alassa said. “What will you give me?”

  Emily sensed a spike of... something flickering under Randor’s wards. His magic was flaring... she leaned forward, despite herself, as she tried to peer through his protections. He wasn’t a strong magician, but he was skilful. He’d concealed himself well. And yet, something was churning under his wards. Had he boosted his magic? Or... she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about the implications. She’d been warned that rituals designed to boost one’s magic were invariably dangerous.

  “You will be my heir,” Randor said, finally. His voice was so steady that Emily knew he was keeping himself under tight control. “Your titles will be restored to you...”

  Alassa smiled, although it didn’t touch her eyes. “Legally, the titles of a senior member of the Royal Bloodline cannot be removed without permission from the House of Lords,” she said. “Your claim to have removed them is of questionable legality.”

  “I make the law,” Randor snapped. His eyes hardened. “And, as I hold the power, I determine what happens.”

  Might makes right, Emily thought. No, it doesn’t make right. It just determines what actually happens.

  “I am the kingdom,” Randor added. “And I can remove your titles at will.”

  Alassa cocked her head. “It seems to me that you are asking me to disarm, to place myself and my people at your mercy, in exchange for a vague promise that I will succeed you at some later date. What’s to stop you throwing me back into the Tower once I’ve given birth and raising my son in your own image?”

  “I would give you my sworn oath,” Randor said.

  “Oaths can be circumvented,” Alassa reminded him. “We both know that.”

  Emily frowned as she sensed another spike of magic. Randor was clearly furious, even though his face and voice were calm. She watched him closely, wondering precisely what he was trying to hide. His glamours were strong enough to make her eyes simply slide over his face, but there was nothing subtle to them at all. A more careful piece of spellwork would have left her ignorant of the glamour’s existence. She would never have known he was trying to hide something.

  Randor leaned forward. “What... do you want?”

  Alassa smiled, like the cat that ate the canary. “I want you to adopt and implement the Great Charter,” she said. “I’ve already started implementing it in Swanhaven and Winter Flower, Father; Emily implemented something similar in Cockatrice years ago. It turned her barony into the richest barony in the kingdom. Given time, we could turn Zangaria into the richest kingdom in the Allied Lands.”

  “You expect me to make such a big concession?” Randor’s face darkened visibly. “You expect me to give up so much power?”

  “That’s my price,” Alassa said. “It matters very little to me if I take the throne now or a decade from now, after your death. But it does matter that I keep my promise to my supporters. If they think I betrayed them...”

  She allowed her voice to trail away, suggestively. Emily watched Randor closely, trying to gauge his thinking. He looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. Emily understood, better than she cared to admit. There was no way a man who’d had to fight repeatedly to keep his throne would be keen on the idea of giving up so much power, even if it would be better for his kingdom in the long run. Emily knew, even if Randor didn’t, that the Great Charter would eventually see the monarchs sidelined altogether. Their power would dwindle away to nothingness.

  “You do not have to keep promises made to commoners,” Randor said, finally. “And you certainly do not have the authority to bind me to such promises.”

  “You taught me that I should always keep my word,” Alassa said. “You made me promise not to turn Nightingale into a toad again, didn’t you?”

  She looked around. “Where is the little slug?”

  Emily blinked as Randor’s power surged, again. Alassa had hit a nerve, clearly. But how?

  “He was executed for betraying me,” Randor said, finally. He sounded as though he was telling the truth, but Emily was sure he wasn’t telling the entire truth. “The details are none of your concern.”

  “I see,” Alassa said, neutrally.

  Randor leaned back in his chair. “You are determined, then, that I will adopt the Great Charter?”

  “Yes,” Alassa said. “And then I will surrender, once you have declared me your heir.”

  Randor said nothing for a long, chilling moment. “I must discuss this with my advisors,” he said, finally. He stood, his armor sparkling under the sunlight. “We will resume this discussion tomorrow.”

  Alassa stood. “Father, how’s Mother?”

  “In confinement,” Randor said. He snapped his fingers. “Gladstone, Roger, with me.”

  Emily watched as the three men walked back to their tent, then looked at Alassa. “Do you think he’ll agree?”

  “I doubt it,” Alassa said. She cast a privacy spell into the air. “It would mean giving up too much power. And even if he did agree, we would have to be wary. He’d be looking for a chance to roll back his agreements as soon as he could get away with it. He’s done it before.”

  Emily nodded, remembering Imaiqah’s father. Paren had thought the king had meant to keep the reforms, only to watch helplessly as they fell by the wayside. And he’d tried to assassinate the king, rather than risk losing everything. His plan had come far too close to success.

  “So we wait for the truce to end, then resume the war,” Jade said, flatly. “Or do we try to bargain? Keep the Great Charter in the west, even if it isn’t implemented in the east until you take the throne? Or... or what?”

  “I don’t know,” Alassa said. “He may come back with a counter-offer. Or” – she shook her head again – “I don’t know.”

  “There must be cracks in his support,” Jade said. “Some of his supporters might change sides, if offered the right incentive, or decide they want to play both sides of the field.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Alassa said. “My father will be making the decisions. He does have advisors, some of whom will probably try to steer him towards peace, but he will be the one making the final decision. I don’t think he’d be willing to make any real concessions.”

  She took a long breath. “Jade... how quickly can we resume the offensive?”

  “We’d have to take out their army, which is on the wrong side of a river,” Jade said, quietly. “They’ve been digging in while everyone was preparing for the talks. I would prefer to lay siege to their position, rather than try to take it, and then let them starve.”

  “If they just sit there and let you do it,” Alassa said. “They’ll certainly try to break out.”

  “They’ll have no choice,” Jade agreed. “But if we trap them, they’ll be charging out against our trenches instead of us charging into theirs.”

  Emily took a breath. “There was something very wrong with your father,” she said. “I think he did something to boost his magic.”

  “My father isn’t insane,” Alassa said. “He might have absorbed power from rituals, rather than risking something more dangerous.”

  “He might,” Jade said. “Does he have enough control to use a ritual to boost his powers?”

  “I don’t know,” Alassa said. “He never taught me anything about magic. It was Zed who gave me my first spellbook and wand.”

  “And he reacted very badly when you mentioned Nightingale,” Emily adde
d. “He was furious. His magic was spiking so badly I’m surprised you couldn’t sense it.”

  “You’ve always been more sensitive than me,” Alassa said. She smiled nastily, just for a second. “But... Nightingale betray my father? I don’t believe it.”

  “He’s an unpleasant piece of work,” Jade said. His lips twisted, as if he’d bitten into something disgusting. “Was an unpleasant piece of work, I suppose.”

  “Yes, he was,” Alassa agreed. “But he was loyal to my father. He had to be. Everyone else hated his guts. They’d have killed him the moment he lost my father’s favor. He knew it too.”

  “You would have killed him,” Jade said, calmly.

  “Yes,” Alassa said, equally calmly. “I wanted him dead too.”

  Emily studied her fingers, thoughtfully. “So... what did happen to him?”

  “Good question,” Alassa said. “And one to which we have no answer. If Father feels that he was betrayed, perhaps he was betrayed. Nightingale might have decided to take his money and run for his life, only to be caught. Or... I don’t know, Emily. I think we may never know.”

  “Alicia might know,” Jade said. “You could ask her.”

  “I doubt she knows anything useful,” Alassa said, stiffly. “Father doesn’t tell her anything.”

  “Ask her anyway,” Jade said, to Emily. “It’s worth asking.”

  Alassa stood. “We’ll see what Father says tomorrow, after he’s finished consulting with his advisors,” she said. “We can try to put together a modified offer of some kind, I suppose, although almost anything would be seen as a betrayal. I think we might have to continue the war.”

  “Wars are chancy things,” Jade said. He stood, brushing down his armor. “But we do have some advantages. Our weapons are better, our soldiers are more motivated and we have a stronger industrial base.”

  “Father has numbers and the capital,” Alassa said. Her voice was grim. “If we continue the war, he’ll be able to raise bigger armies.”

  “Which he’ll have to train,” Jade pointed out. “And the capital might turn into a liability for him. We have friends on the far side of the walls.”

  Alassa shrugged “We’ll go back to our tents,” she said. “And we’ll discuss everything over dinner tonight. And then... well, we’ll see what Father chooses to say.”

  “You could always swear to implement the Great Charter when you take the throne,” Emily reminded her. “It isn’t much, but...”

  “Yes, I could,” Alassa agreed. She looked down at the ground. “But would my people believe me? And if they didn’t believe me, what would they do then?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “HE’S PLAYING FOR TIME,” IMAIQAH SAID, grimly. She took a glass of wine from Iodine with a nod of thanks. “He won’t agree to anything he can’t undo later.”

  “I must agree,” Bradford said. “The king has proven himself treacherous before. Now... he thinks he can split us.”

  “But we should consider the possible advantages of accepting his offer,” Lord Dandelion pointed out. “We might lose a war.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of thinking I’d expect from a nobleman,” Bradford said, making the word an insult. “Why don’t you crawl over to his tent and beg for mercy? I’m sure he can find a place for you kissing his...”

  Alassa cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, please,” she said, coolly. “We cannot allow him to divide us.”

  “This offer of his will divide us,” Bradford said.

  “Correct,” Lord Wolfe agreed. “If the king keeps his word, we will secure our gains without further fighting.”

  “And if he doesn’t keep his word, we will all have our heads chopped off,” Bradford said, sardonically. He leered at Lord Wolfe. “Are you sure that your title will be enough to keep your head on your shoulders? The king executed a baroness!”

  Emily sighed, inwardly, as the argument went ‘round and ‘round in circles. The aristocrats generally seemed in favor of accepting the king’s offer, provided there was a way to guarantee the king would keep his word; the commoners wanted to continue fighting until the king agreed to their terms. Emily herself was inclined to support the commoners, even though it meant continuing the war. There was no reason to believe the king meant anything he’d said. Randor was merely playing for time.

  And once we disband our armies, we might as well put our heads on the block ourselves and save time, she thought. She’d read enough history to know what happened when the commoner rebels accepted concessions from the nobility. They disbanded their armies, they went home... and then they got hunted down and killed. We have to forge a permanent peace.

  “We could demand that the king agrees to an oversight committee,” Masterly said. “If he had to have his decisions approved by us...”

  “My father would never agree to subordinate himself to anyone,” Alassa said, flatly. “And he will resist bitterly any attacks on the royal prerogatives.”

  “Then we can’t force him to abide by the terms of the agreement,” Jade said. He spoke with quiet confidence. “We need to make it hard for him to turn on us.”

  “Then we keep our armies in being,” Bradford said. “The king will have to reckon with an immediate revolt if he turns on us.”

  “And who will pay for these armies?” Viscount Hansel snorted, rudely. “Are you prepared to fund them indefinitely?”

  “We can pay for them,” Bradford said. “And we can also insist on the king not deploying forces into Swanhaven or Cockatrice.”

  “He won’t like that,” Alassa predicted. “Who will watch the borders?”

  Bradford shrugged. Emily rather suspected he’d be happier if no one watched the borders. It would be easier to establish trade routes from Cockatrice to the nearby kingdoms if the merchants didn’t have to reckon with greedy border guards demanding bribes before allowing the caravans to pass. She’d removed road tolls throughout Cockatrice when she’d realized just how badly they harmed trade within her barony, but the king ruled the borders. Alassa would have to deal with that problem when she became Queen.

  “It seems we must either accept his offer or decline,” Lord Dandelion said. “And if we decline, can we win?”

  “We can push onwards to Alexis,” Jade said. “If we can destroy his army...”

  Emily frowned. There were options, if she cared to use them. But there would be consequences. She could smash the king’s army with the nuke-spell, winning the war in a single stroke, but it would terrify every sorcerer in the Allied Lands. They’d go looking for what she’d done and, eventually, they’d stumble across the secret. And then all hell would break loose.

  Jade was still speaking, his tone irritated. “No, My Lord. I could not guarantee a victory over the king’s forces. All I can promise is that our men will do their very best.”

  “What if we marched around them?” Lord Wolfe asked. “We stab straight for Alexis...”

  “And get caught between two fires,” Jade said. “The king hasn’t left the city undefended, My Lord. Even with cannons, it would take us time to break down the walls... more than enough time, I should add, for the king to bring up his armies and take us in the rear. It would shorten the war.”

  Yes, Emily agreed, dryly. It would indeed shorten the war.

  Alassa tapped the table for attention. “We have a difficult balancing act to perform,” she said, calmly. “I intend to accept my father’s offer” – she held up a hand as a murmur ran around the gathering – “on the condition that he accepts the Great Charter in our lands, that we can keep our army in being and that he re-establishes the Assembly with its full rights and powers. It will not give us everything, but it will give us a chance to secure our gains and plan for the future. Are there any objections?”

  “We cannot trust him to stick to the agreement,” Bradford said, flatly. “He’ll try to find a way to cheat us.”

  “Yes,” Alassa said. “But we won’t make it easy for him.”

  Emily winced, inwar
dly. No one in the room was safe if King Randor won the war, and they knew it. Even Alassa would be in trouble. Randor would want her alive, for the moment, but once she gave birth she would become expendable. They had good reasons to want to continue the war. But they might lose. And if they lost, all of their gains would be lost with them.

  If we’d had a few more years, we might have been able to build bigger armies, with better weapons, she thought, numbly. But we didn’t have anywhere near enough time.

  “You’re gambling,” Bradford accused. “We will not hesitate to take steps if we feel we’re at risk.”

  Lord Dandelion dropped his hand to his sword. “You do not talk to Her Highness like that!”

  Alassa held up a hand. “I understand,” she said, calmly. “And I will not hesitate to take steps too. And, for what it is worth, I will sign the Great Charter into law as soon as I take the throne.”

  “And what if you don’t take the throne?” Bradford glanced around the room, looking for support. “Technically, if your child is a boy, your claim to the throne would be behind his.”

  “My father will acknowledge me as his heir, as part of the agreement,” Alassa said. “Tell me, Sir Bradford. Do you want to risk losing everything because you didn’t want to settle for less than everything?”

  Bradford didn’t look pleased, but he took a step back anyway. Emily didn’t blame him for being worried about the future. Randor was treacherous and, even with the armies in being, it would be difficult to stop him from striking at his enemies at a later date. Bradford had to be worried about the aristocrats deserting the rebel armies. It hadn’t dawned on him, Emily guessed, that he was in a very strong position. The Levellers practically ran the army.

  Alassa clapped her hands. “We will eat,” she said. “And then we will sleep before the morrow.”

  Cat nudged Emily. “Finally. I thought we were going to starve.”

  Emily elbowed him as the servants brought in the first course. It was an odd little dinner party, a curious mix of commoner and aristocratic foods... she couldn’t help thinking, as the diners helped themselves, that both sides thought they were slumming it. She took enough for herself, then sat next to Alassa as the crowd separated into smaller groups. The Levellers were chatting amongst themselves, speaking in low voices. Behind them, Viscount Hansel and Lord Summer were chatting too.