Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3)

by R. J. Vickers

  We had too few supporters. Too little time to train those who came.

  That fight had given me a stark taste of what was to come. Swords did little against armored men, and barricades could be quickly overwhelmed by enough attackers. It confirmed what I had said to Lord Jofran—Larkhaven was defenseless against attack. If Whitish ships made it past the dangers of the harbor, the city would be razed to the ground.

  After I had sat there for hours, my hands and feet numb from the chill carried on the wind, I caught sight of a lone form on the hill to the north.

  I rose unsteadily to my feet. Even from this distance, I was sure I recognized the figure.

  Mellicante walked slowly, unsteadily; I hoped she was not injured.

  As I watched, another figure emerged from the forest below and ran toward Mellicante.

  Baridya had kept watch as well.

  When they met halfway down the hill, I saw my friends embrace and then continue down, hand in hand. If they saw me, they showed no sign.

  I sank back to the ground.

  Seeing them walking away together, I finally accepted something I had suspected for a long time. The two were lovers. Loneliness gripped me—I was again the outsider, the one looking in from afar at the lives others made for themselves. Baridya and Mellicante would turn to one another first, above all others, and I would become an afterthought.

  Who would I turn to now? I had the loyalty of countless others, true, but that was a very different thing. I could command the allegiance of every citizen of Itrea and still feel empty.

  Eventually the grass rustled behind me. Baridya was walking out to where I sat on the cliff-tops, her hair blowing unrestrained, her coattails flapping against her legs. “I’m sorry. Mellicante told me it wasn’t your fault she stayed behind. I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

  I made a noncommittal sound. Baridya was here because she pitied me, not because she desired my company. How could I trust anything that had once seemed obvious? Where once I had stood firm by my decisions, I now doubted every move.

  How many more innocent people would I kill through my mistakes? How would I rule Itrea if I could not even do right by my closest friends?

  I wanted someone else to take over from me. Someone like my father, who inspired trust and loyalty.

  Someone better than me should lead this fight.

  “Come on,” Baridya said gently. She took my arm and helped me to my feet. Before I could resist, she steered me back toward the hunting lodge. “You need to sleep.”

  * * *

  When I woke near sundown, groggy and disoriented, some of my doubts were buried in the face of what needed to be done.

  We had to gather as many forces as we could. Secure Larkhaven before reinforcements arrived. Ride for Baylore.

  Whatever came next would be left up to fate. Whether or not I sat the throne, I had to see Itrea free.

  Downstairs, the sitting-room was crammed with people. In the manor, each of my supporters had a place to go, but the same forty people pushed the hunting lodge past capacity.

  Baridya spotted me at once and hurried to my side, her face grim.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

  “It’s Rona. She lost a lot of blood last night, and Magreeda thinks her wound is infected.”

  I followed Baridya swiftly to a large room with many beds in the servants’ quarters, where Rona lay surrounded by her household. Her forehead glistened with sweat, and a splotch of blood showed through the bandages wrapped around her upper arm.

  “Your Majesty,” she murmured. “You came.”

  Jannie jumped to her feet, and I sank into the chair she had vacated beside Rona’s bed. “Without you, I would be dead.” I took Rona’s hand, which was icy. “Your bravery gave us a chance to rise up against Whitland. A slim chance, maybe, but the best one we were ever going to get. I need you to recover, you hear me? I can’t do this without you.”

  Rona laughed softly. “You flatter me, Your Majesty. I have faith in you.” With an effort, she used her good arm to push herself into a sitting position. “Really, why are so many people here? I’m hardly on my deathbed.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Magreeda said, “everyone ought to clear out so you can get some rest.” She flapped her hands at us. “Go on!”

  I brushed Rona’s thin, curly grey hair back from her forehead before leaving the room with the others. I hoped she was right, and she was strong enough to fight off the infection that had taken hold in her flesh. If only we had a Drifter around to heal her properly.

  * * *

  Over a strong glass of brandy that evening, Mellicante and Viko recounted what they had seen in Larkhaven. Or, more accurately, Mellicante told the tale while Viko downed glass after glass of brandy, his hands shaking.

  “I worry I was followed all the way from the manor. I made it safely to the harbormaster’s office, but if soldiers were watching me, they might go after him next. If they read your letters and learn who you are…”

  Cold flooded me, and I gulped at my brandy, burning the back of my throat.

  “What about Viko?” I gasped.

  Mellicante threw him a look of disgust mixed with exasperation. “I found him exactly where I thought I would. Passed out in the back of the Wolf’s Den. He had stolen a handful of jewels that he used to pay for his draught.”

  Flushing, head bowed so his long hair curtained his face, Viko reached for the jug of brandy once more.

  Mellicante put her hand over the top. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

  “I’m not a child. You can’t just treat me like this. I—”

  “It’s what you deserve when you act this way,” Mellicante snapped. “You were once a good, honest man who wanted to make something of his life. Where did that go? Is a scrap of decency still hiding in you somewhere?”

  Viko buried his face in his hands.

  After a pause, Mellicante rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only doing this because I care about you. You were once my dearest friend. The only person who would spare a glance for a lonely, lost beggar. You have a good heart, Viko. I just want you to be happy again.”

  “Maybe I was happy, before you came along and ruined everything,” Viko mumbled.

  “How could you want a life like that? Forever hungering for your next draught, selling yourself to any flea-ridden sailor that stumbled into the place, trapped under a growing mountain of debt? That life was going to kill you before long.”

  Viko’s shoulders slumped. “It was wretched,” he whispered.

  I felt suddenly ashamed of my loneliness that morning. I still had so many dear friends, people I loved and trusted and could rely on in times of desperation. Viko had nothing. I wanted to take him into my arms and comfort him like a child, to promise we would always look after him, but I knew that was not what he needed. He needed to find his own way.

  “But our trip into town wasn’t wasted,” Mellicante said, hand still on Viko’s shoulder. “He learned something. Something that could ruin all of our plans.”

  Dread tightened its grip around my throat. “What is it?”

  “The tavern-owner heard word that a Whitish ship is on its way,” Viko said. “It’s meant to arrive soon. Maybe a span from now, maybe longer. It’s a proper warship, packed with soldiers. A merchant sighted it off the coast of Chelt not long ago.”

  No. We did not have enough time to prepare before it reached our shores. My father and Dellik would not return in time; our army would comprise the ragged band of refugees we had patched together thus far.

  Larkhaven was lost.

  “And what happened after we left the manor?” I forced myself to ask. “How did you get out?”

  Mellicante’s face closed over. “I lit as many fires as I could without it looking suspicious, and shot a few more arrows from the second story. I nearly didn’t make it out. Part of the roof collapsed, and I almost passed out from the smoke. But I crawled out in the end. Then I lay under a rosebush in
the garden until I had the strength to run.”

  I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

  “We all must make sacrifices in war, Kalleah. I merely played my part. As you will yours.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I sent one of my supporters to hide in the fields near the governor’s ruined manor, where he could intercept any new arrivals and direct them to our new base. When he returned for a visit several days later, he reported that the manor was reduced to a shell, and the Whitish soldiers had left without a trace. With any luck, they assumed we had been trapped in the burning manor.

  As the quarter drew on, Rona’s strength faltered. Though she still retained her good humor, her voice thinned to a whisper, and she could no longer sit up without help. Magreeda spent as much time as she could sitting by the gardener’s bedside, though other duties filled her days. She had taken command of the lodge kitchen, directing Lord Gabrin’s staff to prepare increasingly larger meals as support continued to trickle in.

  Six days after the governor’s manor burned down, Magreeda came running onto the lawn, where I supervised the delivery of several crateloads of eggs.

  “It’s Rona,” she said.

  With a hasty apology to the farmers still unloading their cart, I turned and sprinted back toward the lodge.

  Baridya, Tessie, Jannie, the rest of the governor’s servants, and Lady Pashisse hovered around Rona’s bed.

  “Rona?” I said.

  The gardener’s face was flushed and feverish, and her eyes were glassy. She did not appear to hear me.

  “The infection has spread,” Magreeda said in a low voice. She sank into the empty chair beside Rona’s bed and wrapped the gardener’s limp fingers in her own. “Without a healer—”

  Rona’s breathing faltered, and she coughed weakly.

  Another long, rasping breath rattled her lungs, and her chest stilled. Her cloudy eyes stared at the ceiling.

  Tears spilled down Tessie’s cheeks; she wrapped her arms across her stomach and pressed her back against the wall as though hoping it would swallow her up. Magreeda’s eyes glistened as she lifted a shaking hand to close Rona’s eyes.

  I touched the back of Rona’s wrinkled hand, tanned and leathery from many hours in the sun, and then slipped from the room. I felt as though I was intruding on the grief of those who knew Rona best.

  How many more would die because of me?

  The air inside the house was suffocating. I escaped to the garden, where I skirted around the wagon and followed a game trail through the forest to the cliffs.

  Standing over the sea, waves roaring below, sunlight glinting off the water, I finally managed to fill my lungs with briny air.

  Instead of the churning surf below, I saw Rona’s body become Mellicante’s, her hair charred from flames; her face then turned to Quendon’s, then Baridya’s. The foam cresting the sea suddenly looked like fragments of bleached skeletons, the remains of all those who would die before this war ended.

  Could a better ruler have prevented this? Would someone stronger than I have led Itrea away from the brink?

  Out at sea, something leapt from the waves and dove back with a great splash.

  The visions of death cleared from my eyes, though I could not banish the sick feeling in my stomach.

  Then I realized I was not alone.

  The Rider stood just along the coast from me, toes to the crumbling edge of the cliff. So that was the dolphin he had bonded with, leaping out at sea.

  He appeared to notice me at the same time I saw him. He waved, and I ambled closer, though I did not want company.

  “I miss swimming with Luthi,” he said with a wistful smile. His floppy black hair fell across his eyes, and he had an easy, carefree manner. “That’s my dolphin. I can’t get down to the water here, and it makes us both restless if we can’t see each other.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my trousers. “I apologize if this is impolite to ask—can you communicate with Luthi somehow?”

  The young man’s smile widened. “Yes. I don’t know how to describe it, but watch this.” He fixed his gaze on the sea, and a moment later his dolphin leapt from the water three times, body arcing above the waves, finishing the last with a sideways twist that sent a great plume of water skyward.

  “That’s incredible. I hope we can take Larkhaven back soon so you and Luthi don’t have to remain apart.”

  He nodded.

  We fell silent, both watching as Luthi swam closer, fin slicing above the water every so often.

  Then I heard running footsteps crunching through the pine needles behind us.

  “Kalleah!” Baridya yelled as she burst through the trees. Her face was red, and clumps of bark and pine needles were caught in her hair. “You have to come!”

  My pulse raced. Were we under attack again? “What is it?”

  “Someone’s just arrived from Baylore. Come, quick! You won’t believe who it is.”

  With an apologetic glance at the Rider, I tore through the forest after Baridya. Had Mother managed to escape, or was it Deance, my other lady-in-waiting, come to join me at last?

  When we skidded into the garden and around the lodge to the carriageway, I heard men’s voices and the snorting of horses.

  First I caught sight of the Rider’s brother, the boy who had been waiting to intercept any new supporters who arrived at the governor’s manor.

  Behind him stood someone I had never expected to see here—Prince Calden, looking older and more serious than I’d ever seen him, one hand on his horse’s bridle.

  “Cal?” I said.

  His face split into a grin. “Kalleah! I mean, Your Majesty!”

  I bounded over and embraced him fiercely, noticing that he was now several fingers taller than me. “How are you? What are you doing here? I can’t believe it!”

  “I’m safe. It’s so good to see you again! When we set out, I wasn’t sure what we’d find. I didn’t even know if we’d be able to track you down. But you’re here!”

  “It’s good to see you again too.” I gave him another hug, heart swelling with joy. “You need to tell me everything. Why have you come? What’s happening in Baylore. We haven’t received news for over a span.”

  “Wait,” he said. “There’s someone you need to see first.”

  Curiosity gripped me as Cal handed his reins to one of the guards who had traveled with him. Cautiously, he led me down the dirt track through the pines toward the main road.

  Just as we rounded a corner, I caught sight of a man standing with his back to us, wavy black hair spilling around his neck, one hand buried in the mane of the horse beside him.

  He turned at the sound of our feet, revealing a mess of bruises and gashes across his achingly familiar face.

  It was Leoth.

  18

  The Purge of Magic

  “N o,” I breathed.

  A dozen emotions warred within me—shock that Leoth had appeared here, hundreds of leagues from where he was supposed to be sitting on the Itrean throne; worry that Leoth was injured; anger at myself for caring when he had betrayed me; fear that he had come to arrest me; and empathy at the fearful, wounded look in his eyes.

  “What in Varse’s name happened to you?” I choked out at last.

  Leoth’s fingers worked their way deeper into his horse’s mane. I recalled that he loved horses, that he had always sought any chance to escape the city for a ride.

  “Kalleah.” His voice was rough. “I—”

  “What are you doing here?” My voice was still strangled.

  He let out a breath. “I’ve come to seek refuge. Can I speak to you alone? There are things I don’t want anyone else to know. Everything went wrong after you left.”

  “How do I know you don’t plan to attack me?”

  “Have I ever harmed you, Kalleah?”

  I sighed. More than his words, it was his manner that convinced me he was no threat. This was not the Leoth I remembered—
all the vigor, the sly humor, was gone. He was broken.

  I jerked my head in the direction of the house, and he followed. Cal fell into pace beside me, glancing back at Leoth every few steps.

  Lord Gabrin had set aside an office for me, and it was there I led Leoth.

  “Do you trust him?” I asked Cal in a whisper once Leoth slipped into the office.

  “I don’t know what happened to him, but I don’t think he’s going to hurt you.”

  “Can you keep watch outside? I don’t want to be disturbed. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll call for help.”

  Cal nodded sharply. He had the makings of a soldier in his manner; it pained me to consider such a future for him.

  Leoth sank into a chair across from my plush leather armchair. I sat delicately and studied him for a long time, trying to read his face. Both eyes had been blackened, and his nose had a notch I did not remember—it looked as though it had been broken. A badly-healed gash ran down one cheek, and a chunk of one earlobe was missing.

  “I look disgusting, don’t I?” Leoth said with a forced laugh.

  “You always did value your looks too much,” I said, trying to disguise the unsteadiness in my voice. “What happened? I received your message—what is going on in Baylore?”

  He slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. “You were right about the Truthbringers. They planned a genocide against every magic race in Itrea. They were going to start with the forbidden races, so no one would object, and move on from there. When I took the throne, they thought I would act their puppet.”

  “And that wasn’t your plan?” I could not keep a note of sarcasm from my voice.

  Leoth shrugged. “Until I met you, I had no direction except what my father pushed me toward. He got me involved with the Truthbringers, and he set me on the path to the throne. I followed his bidding because resisting would be dangerous. Then I met you, and everything you said made so much sense.” He sighed and put a hand over his blackened eyes. “I wanted what you wanted. I just hadn’t been able to see it until you put your plans into words.”