The Queen Will Betray You

by Sarah Henning

  Each accusation hit like a cannonball, breaking apart the bow, the hull, the mast of this ship they were on, sending it splintered into the forever sea of time, intention, work.

  Though they had it at the ready—the tattoo, the map with Sendoa’s plans upon it, and Koldo’s direct knowledge, if she ever arrived—neither Satordi nor any of the other councilors requested that proof. Instead, the lead councilor tented his fingers and looked to Ferdinand.

  “My king, I think perhaps, given this new information shared by both yourself and the Princess, it would be best if the Queen Mother be relieved of further discussions of King Sendoa’s plans for Ardenia, and the Torrent—her loyalties as stated are murky indeed and a danger to Ardenia, in my estimation. If you believe that prudent, I will call a guard to remove her.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Geneva insisted.

  “It is necessary.” Ferdinand squared his shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, Satordi, but that decision is not mine to make. My sister, as rightful heir and queen, what is your wish?”

  The mouths of each of the councilors fell open while Geneva’s jaw tightened, betrayal and anger fierce upon her cheeks. Amarande did not budge. “Guards shall escort the Queen Mother to her chambers and remain outside her door.”

  In a show of support, the king called to the hall, “Guards, please remove the Queen Mother to her chambers and keep watch there!”

  Movement came from beyond the door, and as the men and women sorted their new orders Satordi’s voice rang low, livid, across the length of the room. “My king, with war on our doorstep am I understanding that you are … ceding power?”

  “Yes. A lie made me king. It is one all of you participated in, and I as well. I am not the rightful heir and my decisions are secondary to my sister, who is the rightful queen.”

  “But the union of kingdoms of the Sand and Sky must approve—”

  “Must approve what?” Ferdinand asked, still calm. He did not care that the guards had entered and that they could not ignore what he was saying. “That I plan to cede the crown to my sister, who should by any measure be queen? A crown, I recall, that was given to me without consultation from the rulers of the continent. As it stands, we have two-thirds of the rulers of the Sand and Sky standing right here.” Ferdinand looked to Luca. “Will you vote with me to allow female heirs to rule outright in your Sand and Sky?”

  Luca smiled. “Gladly.”

  The guards appeared at the Queen Mother’s side and she shrugged away from them, opting to remove herself from King Sendoa’s large chair herself. “Perhaps I should have you vote to grant me Basilica. I have the blood for it—my cousin can barely compete.”

  “That is not how any of this works,” Satordi sputtered, not to Geneva as much as to the whole idea of this casual transfer of power. “A king cannot name a queen and step aside; a single battle does not reinstall the Otxoa.”

  “Satordi, do you hear yourself?” Amarande exclaimed. “Inés just murdered two kings and claimed three-fifths of the continent over spilled wine. In this room lies her path to the other two kingdoms. It does not matter what the laws say; none of it stands. The Sand and Sky that wrote those stupid, ancient rules is no more. The future of this continent—”

  With a crash, one guard and then another fell to the floor, assassin’s smiles carved across their throats, blood gushing onto the collars of their regal Ardenian uniforms. Geneva stood over them with twin daggers in her hands, both of them stained crimson with arterial blood.

  Nearest to her, Joseba shot to his feet, his chair falling over in his haste. It was unclear if he meant to disarm her or escape. It didn’t matter. One quick thrust and he was down, blood blooming across the chest of his ivory robes.

  Amarande and Luca both dove for their boots, knives out and ready quick as a flash. Ferdinand was even quicker, shielding them with his sword as they armed themselves, prepared to block an attack.

  All could see that the two daggers that Geneva had been holding were now protruding from Satordi and Garbine. Geneva had stabbed the old woman in the heart, and she was slumped over the table, bleeding all over the papers strewn on it. Satordi she had caught in the side, missing vital organs but incapacitating him. The lead councilor struggled to stand, gasping for air like a hooked fish, before finally falling behind the table.

  Completely ignoring their dying moments, Geneva bent to retrieve the swords from the dead guards and raised the twin Basilican blades with a shrug.

  “They were getting in the way of our discussions. Rules and regulations and knickers in a twist over the minutiae of power transfer. You should thank me for removing that obstacle for you simply out of my own annoyance.” Geneva smiled, both King Sendoa’s scions now in her sights. “Now, children, your only obstacle is me.”

  Yes, the Warlord would go out fighting. Not flee like the Runaway Queen she once had been.

  “Guards!” Ferdinand called, his voice even louder than before.

  This was a relief, too. Despite the show he’d put on, Luca hadn’t been fully sure Ferdinand would not turn on them.

  Geneva took a step toward him, sword at a deadly angle. Luca’s eyes fell to her shoes—boots, not slippers. A dagger could be in them, or two. Perhaps even hidden in her bodice. A woman like her could easily have many more weapons hidden away.

  “You would have them cut me down, Ferdinand?” The Queen Mother took another step, brow steeply arched. “After all I’ve done for you?”

  Ferdinand did not relent. “You used me. Every inch of the way.”

  “No, I stood with you. For you. And you repay my love by staring me down with a sword.”

  From the hall there was a commotion, and Luca’s heart fluttered with relief.

  Koldo. Ula. Urtzi. Osana. Right on time, despite the unplanned location.

  “Mother, in here!” Ferdinand called again, and Geneva visibly flinched.

  It was clear now that he did not want to kill Geneva, only remove her influence. Let them deal with war on their own—become triumphant or lose everything to Inés and let her deal with her contemporary, should she survive.

  Geneva’s smile widened in a way that caused Luca’s heart to shrink back. “They’re not coming, my boy.”

  Bile rose within Luca as his grip tightened on the knife. Next to him, Amarande was already scanning her periphery for movement beyond the heavy double doors.

  But then, despite that announcement, a noise came from behind her. Footsteps and then the clanging of a lock and latch releasing. And there, entering the room from a door hidden beyond the council table, was an opponent Luca did not expect.

  Taillefer.

  CHAPTER 61

  AMARANDE’S blade stiffened in her hand.

  Taillefer.

  It couldn’t be. But it was. He’d changed into the unmistakable aubergine and gold of Pyrenee. Washed his face, too, blood and grime gone. But still he sported the fox-like smile the princess had seen so much of during their journey.

  “How did you … why did you…” Amarande’s voice died out and that smile increased. So pleased he’d made her stumble.

  His eyes glittered, landing on her brother. “Won’t you introduce us, Princess?”

  “Queen, we just made her queen,” Ferdinand corrected, eyes tracking this new threat while still angling toward Geneva and her double swords. “And you will refer to her as such.”

  As always, Taillefer found humor in something that wasn’t funny. He let out an audible laugh as he stepped over Satordi’s dying body. He didn’t explain what humor he saw, and he also didn’t come farther into the room, both his dagger and sword still stowed in their scabbards at his waist.

  As it was, that put him in literal alignment with Geneva and her weapons—facing the rest of the room from either end of the oval-shaped council table.

  Amarande stared at her mother and the prince.

  Were they a team? Some sort of loose alliance? Or was this another of Taillefer’s clever tricks? Whose side was
he really on? Her mother’s? Hers? Or simply his own?

  “What are you doing here?” This from Luca. Amarande hadn’t believed Luca had the capacity to hate Taillefer as much as he should, but the harshness in his tone said otherwise.

  Where was Koldo? Ula, Urtzi, Osana? It was too much to hope for the resistance fighters. Not yet. But they needed reinforcements. With Luca and Ferdinand and herself facing Geneva and Taillefer, their odds looked good. But someone had clearly taken care of the guards and it was impossible to tell who else was in the hall. Worse, Taillefer had arrived from the antechamber behind the council room, outside the cell in which she’d been imprisoned. What else was back there? Who else? And how had Taillefer arrived inside the Itspi wearing the uniform of Pyrenee without being stopped by their soldiers down below?

  “I am here to attend this delightful reunion, same as you, wolf cub. I do apologize for my tardiness, and the regret is my own as I see I’ve missed the portion of the programming where you try to put aside your differences long enough to unite to face a common enemy.” Taillefer made it a point to examine the mess of the room. Plans discarded, bodies strewn on the floor, lifeblood in various stages of release. Lines drawn in marble rather than sand. He inspected it the same way a governess would look down upon a particularly messy child’s room. “Couldn’t find it within you to join forces against my mother?”

  “Negotiations are still in progress,” Geneva answered, her swords unwavering.

  “Well, the good news is that she and I also could not rally together to beat you. So, I took care of her.”

  Silence smothered the room at the implication. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, and Amarande’s teeth ground together. Never plainspoken, this boy.

  “Taillefer,” Amarande spit, “did you kill your mother?”

  “King Taillefer, and yes. There will be no clash of the queens.” He bowed in a deep, mocking way. “You’re welcome.”

  Luca’s eyes narrowed. “How can we believe you?”

  Taillefer took another step closer. “Oh, wolf cub,” he answered, almost lovingly, “you of all these people should believe me. I spared you when I said I would. You’re welcome for that, too.”

  Amarande addressed Taillefer again, almost hopeful. “Are you here for a truce?”

  “He is here for me,” Geneva replied. She’d been standing back, watching with her blades, but now she took another step forward, so that again she and Taillefer were aligned. “His Highness and I have been allies for quite some time.”

  Amarande’s mouth went dry. “That can’t be.”

  “Can’t it? Is it really easier for you to believe that a boy you attempted to murder would stand with you and not against you, darling daughter?” The skylight blue of her mother’s eyes flashed. “Tell me, again—how did your daring escape come to pass?”

  A weight settled in Amarande’s stomach as she ran through that night’s events again. The timing. The location. All the intangibles. Finally, she swallowed, watching a smile creep across her mother’s face. Amarande’s voice rang hollow in her ears. “You knew where I was being kept—not because you’re so clever but because my mother told you.”

  In confirmation, Taillefer arched a brow. “It is quite possible that I do not know everything, Queen.”

  “You are playing us both,” Ferdinand accused.

  “Yes, that is what smart players do—you’ve done that yourself somewhat. Applause to you, little Sendoa. There is always more than one side of play, and I have played them all. Your mother. Your sister. The Torrent. Ardenia. Myrcell. I have alliances with every player, my finger in every pot. There is nothing particularly special about either of yours—” Taillefer turned to Geneva. “Though I daresay alignment with the Warlord’s cause is a much less enticing proposition than previously, given the Otsakumea has risen and is standing in our midst, and your supporters are fleeing with the wind or rotting into the sand.”

  Geneva wheeled upon him. “Excuse me?”

  Taillefer ignored her and sent a questioning glance in Luca’s direction. “I assume you were successful, if you’re standing here.” He winked and gave a thumbs-up. “A stableboy as the long-lost heir to an extinct throne certainly is one for the songbooks.”

  Geneva’s whole body pivoted toward Taillefer now—her blades and fire and spite. “As long as I stand, the wolf cub has won nothing. And you stand with me, boy.”

  “No, I think not.” Taillefer turned to Amarande. “My mother is dead. I now rule Pyrenee. Arm-wrestle your mother for Basilica and Myrcell for all I care. I only want what is mine.

  “My offer is this: Recognize me now as king and my ships will disperse. No war at your door.” Taillefer glanced from Amarande to her mother and back, his lips curling. “Well, unless you consider this negotiation of yours to be civil war, in which case you work it out and just send me a scrap of parchment with the winner’s name when it’s over, will you?”

  “That … actually sounds reasonable,” Luca whispered from Amarande’s side.

  And it was.

  No Inés? No war for the whole of the Sand and Sky? Just a simple agreement, a handshake, and a parting of ways? No. It couldn’t be.

  “Taillefer,” Amarande called, “I will recognize you as King of Pyrenee if you will honor my claim as Queen of Ardenia and the Otsakumea’s birthright to the newly reformed Kingdom of Torrence.”

  That fox smile flashed. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  “No! I think not!” Geneva shouted, twin swords clanging as she crashed them together for emphasis. “The continent will not be decided this way! By the fickle wishes of children with no basis in fact. These words mean nothing.”

  Just that moment, the doors burst open and General Koldo, Ula, Urtzi, and Osana came in, breathing hard and worse for wear. Their weapons had been used, but they’d made it despite whatever obstacle Geneva had clearly created for them.

  “Ah, look at that,” Taillefer observed, gleefully. “They were coming after all.”

  The Warlord’s eyes narrowed upon the general, yet another assumed ally who became a traitor.

  Koldo stepped in line with her son, shoulders back and sword out. “This is the end, Geneva. You are defeated. As the Warlord, as the Runaway Queen, as the Queen Mother. You hold no titles now. No land. No army. Nothing. The Sand and Sky has been forever changed but you will no longer play a part in it.”

  “What I did, I did for Ardenia.” Geneva’s furious blue eyes found Amarande’s face. “I protected my daughter’s legacy from the threat of Koldo’s child.”

  She wheeled on Ferdinand. “I protected you from death. You could’ve been my first kill, and instead you became my son.”

  Ferdinand shook his head. “You stole me from my rightful mother and then dangled me as blackmail for the entirety of my life, right up until the moment you regained Ardenia’s throne by using me.”

  “I did it for you. I did it for both of you. I did it to stave off war. I did not know what Inés would do.” Geneva pointed a sword at Taillefer. “Or her psychopathic children.”

  “Hey there, that is a king you are talking about,” Taillefer cut in. “At least call me a genius instead of a child—psychopathic genius. Yes, the king will take it.”

  Everyone in the room ignored him.

  “You did not do it for us,” Ferdinand said, his fury evident even if his voice stayed restrained. “You stole Amarande’s chance to grow up with her mother, and at the same time you stole my chance to grow up with my mother and father. Think of what we’ve lost.”

  “No! I did what was best for both of you when she,” Geneva gestured to the general, “attacked my daughter’s legacy.”

  Again, Ferdinand shook his head. Lowered his sword and tried to touch her heart—the only mother he had known for fifteen years, no matter how twisted that love turned out to be, letting his words be both his offense and defense. “You cannot blame Koldo for what you did.”

  “No—I gave you so much. I didn’t steal anything!” This
time her voice shook. “From you, from Amarande, from anyone else. I—”

  “Stars,” Ferdinand swore, “you even stole Luca’s chance to grow up with his mother.”

  “What…?” Luca’s voice was tight. “What do you mean?”

  Koldo answered, gently. “Your mother did not die of lung disease, Luca. She witnessed Geneva running away with Ferdinand. Geneva admitted to strangling her. I’m so sorry to tell you this now, this way—”

  A moment of thunderstruck silence.

  Then Ula let out a cry of rage. “You what?” The pirate lunged forward, curved sword at a deadly angle. “You killed Lygia? Strangled her?”

  Luca caught her arm as she passed but Ula furiously shook him away, advancing on the Warlord, step by step. For the first time, Geneva inched backward, retreating from the fury in Ula’s eyes, covering that involuntary weakness with a scoffing laugh.

  “Who the stars are you and why do you care? Lygia wasn’t actually Queen Elixane, I killed some lowly nursemaid.” Her voice was all taunting bravado, and Taillefer actually had the gall to chuckle, thoroughly entertained from his corner. “You have summarily ruined my son’s glorious speech vilifying everything I’ve done for the past fifteen years. Stop ruining the flow—I’m sure he’s about to move on to the way I ruled with fear and an iron fist in the Torrent, even though he gladly stood by my side and watched each victim burn.”

  Ula lifted her chin. Sword out straight. Shoulders back. Luca moved closer, but did not attempt to restrain her again. “My name is Ulara Vidal. You killed my mother. You made my homeland a wasteland of fear. And—”

  “And what?” Geneva narrowed her gaze. “I’m going to die at your hand? Get in line, girl.”

  With a cry, Ula lunged, her curved sword held high in both hands. With deadly force, she sent it arcing downward—only for the blow to be parried aside by the crossing thrust of Geneva’s twin blades. The momentum sent Ula in a spin that turned her around, back to Geneva, vulnerable to the next slash of the Warlord’s sword. One quick shove and Luca pushed Ula out of the way.