“Why did you try to sabotage my vote, then?” I asked coldly.
“The Truthbringers forced my hand. Their spies had seen the way I was growing close to you, and they threatened to hang me as a traitor if I did not win the throne. Only my father persuaded them to spare me—he convinced them we could wrest the throne from you even after you were crowned.”
My heart beat faster. I yearned to know that Leoth’s love had not been a farce, yet I could no longer believe anything he said. I let him continue, trying to keep my face impassive.
“When I finally took the throne, I wanted to do everything I could to keep the peace. I didn’t want your work to go to waste. But the city was a mess; people were rioting, and the Truthbringers turned quickly to brutality. They began arresting members of the forbidden races and stopping all traffic in and out of the city.
“The Truthbringers wanted me to give an official order to round up the forbidden races, but I refused. Even my father was starting to worry by this point.”
Leoth gripped his knees and seemed to chew on his words for a few minutes before continuing.
“Then the Truthbringers captured my mother, and threatened to kill her if my father didn’t force me to obey their demands. So my father announced that I was a bastard with no claim to the throne. He threw me to the Truthbringers and seized the throne for himself.”
“Is that true?” I asked quickly. “Are you a bastard?”
“I have no idea. But they didn’t release my mother, so my father had to obey their every command to keep her alive.”
“And the Truthbringers did that to you?” I gestured at his face.
Leoth nodded, not meeting my eyes.
“Why? Surely it was enough to have you locked up.”
“They were…disgusted by me.” I had the feeling he was omitting something important, but I did not press him.
“How did you escape?”
“Calden sprang me free with the help of your friend Saniya and those guards who rode here with me. They had horses readied, and we galloped straight through town before anyone could stop us.”
“And no one has spoken up against the Truthbringers? People are letting them trample through Baylore without question?”
“They’ve grown too strong.” Leoth rubbed at his scraggly beginnings of a beard and winced when he touched one of the still-raw cuts. “At first it was just those men in white, but now it seems everyone is wearing one of the Truthbringer rings.”
I glanced at his hands—his ring was gone.
Leoth gave a harsh laugh. “You think they’d let me keep that, after everything I did wrong?”
“Oh.”
“People are wearing white shirts everywhere in the city. If they don’t, they get harassed. Many have left, especially those with money, but the Weavers still seem to think they won’t be targeted. I can’t believe how many civilians have joined. If anyone tries to resist, they’re attacked from every direction by people in white shirts.”
“And the palace?”
“As long as my father obeys the Truthbringer who poses as his advisor, everyone else in the palace remains safe. The bastards don’t need to move against the royalty; the city is already theirs.”
“So my mother is alive and well?”
“For now.”
I gripped my knees under the desk, trying not to let my fear show on my face.
This was worse than I had imagined. Whitland did not need to send boatloads of reinforcements to take Baylore—the capital was already bowing to its invaders. If I marched on Baylore, it would be my own people I was fighting, not Whitish Truthbringers.
“You need to ride to Baylore as soon as you can,” Leoth said. “It’s obvious you’re preparing for war—you can’t wait any longer. If you do, it will be too late. The forbidden races will be rounded up and killed, followed by the Flamespinners, the Potioneers, the Riders—one by one, they’ll eliminate each of the races that people are most uncomfortable with, until they’re used to murdering their own neighbors. Then they’ll turn on the Weavers.”
My heart raced, and for a moment my vision darkened; I heard once more the rioting in the streets, the shouts and smashing windows and crackling flames.
My pitiful army could hardly fend off twenty trained Whitish soldiers. Against a whole city that had descended into madness, we would be as useful as flies.
I swallowed. “We can’t. We need more time. More support. Our army isn’t even worthy of the name yet.”
“Then Baylore is lost.” In Leoth’s shadowed eyes, I saw the knowledge of how much was at stake.
Mother was still in the city, along with Saniya, Deance, and Lyla. Leoth’s whole family remained, his father under duress, his mother held captive.
“I’m sorry. But it would be suicide to march now. We will make for Baylore as soon as we can.”
“I thought you were brave,” Leoth said with an ugly smile. “I thought you would be willing to do what was necessary.”
His words recalled my earlier fear—had he come here to goad me into acting too soon? Was he lying to lead me into a trap?
“You don’t understand,” I said sharply. I would not discount his words yet; when I spoke to Cal later, I would parse out the truth. “Larkhaven is in as much trouble as Baylore. If we abandon Larkhaven, we lose the coast, and we lose our only chance to assemble a true army.”
“There are Truthbringers here too? Are they targeting magic races in Larkhaven as well?”
“Larkhaven is overrun with Whitish soldiers, Leoth. They’re not just here for the magic races. They want to conquer Itrea.”
Leoth stared at me blankly. “So the Truthbringers—their campaign against the magic races—that was just a distraction.”
“It was part of a bigger plan. A plan to destabilize Itrea and conquer us while we crumbled from within.”
“And I played right into their hands.”
“You did.”
19
Dravs and Varlins
I could not believe no one in Baylore had realized the truth. Yet if the Truthbringers were joined by an equal number of converts from Baylore, their foreignness would be diluted, concealed beneath the rising tide of Itrean militants.
Across from me, Leoth drummed his fingers on the desk, eyes darting around the office as he connected the pieces that had long remained fragmented.
“So that’s why they never cared what their followers did, as long as it stirred up trouble,” he muttered.
I nodded.
“We need to figure out their master plan. Do you have a map of the world?”
I hesitated. If Leoth was here to betray me again—to lead my pitiful excuse of an army into a trap and end the last vestiges of a resistance against Whitish rule—I would be a fool to share everything I knew with him. Yet I needed his insight.
“You don’t trust me.” Leoth turned his battered, once-handsome face away from me, shielding his eyes with a hand. “I understand. But do you think the Truthbringers would have beaten me so badly if I supported them?”
“Anyone could have attacked you,” I said, though I longed to believe him. “My friends might have done that.”
“Ask Calden. He is one of your most fervent supporters. He would not be here if he thought I meant you harm.”
That was true; still I hesitated. Leoth had charmed me before, with kind words and false love, and he knew what effect he had on me. Though his face was marred, his voice was still deep and rich with emotion. I still felt the pull of his dark, expressive eyes, ringed with bruises though they were.
At last I stood. “Let me fetch a map. You will stay at this lodge under constant guard—I won’t have you slipping off to pass secrets to my enemies.”
“Very well.”
Outside the room, Cal stood at attention, his hand on his sword hilt. Again I felt a pang—he should have matured into a carefree young man, not this hard-faced soldier he was fast becoming.
“Is everything all right?” he asked sw
iftly.
“Yes. Guard the room, please—I will be back soon.” I started down the hall but stopped before turning the corner. “Cal, why did you leave the palace? Does your mother know where you are?”
He nodded, and a hurt look crossed his face briefly. “Mother ordered me to go,” he mumbled. “People were saying Flamespinners would be the next to go.”
I wanted to embrace him, to reassure him that we would restore the world to rights, but it was an empty promise.
“You always have a place at my side,” I said instead. “I will protect you.”
“That’s my job, Your Majesty.”
I hurried away before Cal could see the mist in my eyes.
The sitting-room was packed with people. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and come to investigate the new arrivals. The guards who had traveled with Leoth and Cal were outside on the lawn, swords at their feet; I could see Quendon pacing up and down before them, his limp hardly noticeable, and I imagined he was questioning them.
Magreeda’s eyes were red, but she stood straight, keeping her charges in order as always. The door to the servants’ quarters stood closed; I wondered if Rona’s body still lay there.
“Who were you speaking to?” Baridya asked, sidling over to join me. “I saw Cal keeping watch outside the office.”
“It’s Leoth.”
Her face went blank with shock. “You mean—King Leoth? What the plagues is he doing here?”
“Not King Leoth any longer,” I said. “King Olleack seized power from his son, and Leoth fled when the Truthbringers turned on him.”
Baridya’s mouth parted slightly in surprise. Whispers rippled through the room as the news spread.
“But he was working with the Truthbringers,” Baridya said softly. “That’s what I heard, anyway. How do you know he’s not still on their side?”
“I don’t. But he is badly injured, and claims the Truthbringers tortured him.”
Mellicante finally managed to shove her way to my side. “What’s this I hear about King Leoth?”
“I’ll tell you everything later,” I promised. Turning to the restless crowd, I raised my voice.
“We have just received dire news from Baylore. King Leoth has been ousted, and he is here seeking sanctuary. The city is falling into chaos, and the Whitish Truthbringers are beginning to round up the magic races one by one.”
Angry mutters spread through the crowd at this, and the Curse-Weaver, Kamarri, shot me a furious look.
“We need to march on Larkhaven as soon as possible. If Baylore falls—if our magic races are murdered—I fear Itrea will never recover. We need to change our strategy. We cannot rely on strength alone, because the longer we wait for help, the closer the Whitish reinforcements come. Kamarri—” I gave her a solemn look— “we need to use magic to our advantage in any way we can. Please gather every willing magician and brainstorm ways that we can undermine the Whitish power in Larkhaven using magic.”
She nodded, and for the first time I thought I saw a glint of approval in her eyes.
“Lord Gabrin—”
He stepped forward smartly. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Do you have a map of Itrea and the Kinship Thrones I can refer to?”
“Right this way, Your Majesty.”
“Come with me,” I said to Mellicante and Baridya. As we passed Magreeda, I said, “Could you make sure everyone remains orderly?”
She nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Just before the office, Lord Gabrin fetched a rolled map as tall as he was from a cupboard in the hallway. “I will make sure you are not disturbed, Your Majesty.”
“Wait. I might need your opinion. We haven’t been in Larkhaven for very long, so we might not know enough to draw accurate conclusions. Just a moment, please.”
I slipped into the office, where Leoth had leaned far back in his chair and crossed his booted feet. When he heard me, he sat up abruptly.
“Do you mind if I bring several others along who can help us make sense of this mess?”
Leoth’s mouth twisted. “I—I don’t want everyone to see me looking like this,” he mumbled. Then he gave me an embarrassed smile. “I sound like an arrogant bastard, don’t I?”
I had to fight back a smile of my own. “A bit.” I longed to smooth down the curl that stuck up at the back of his head. “A dose of humility will do you good.”
“Fine, do what you bloody well want.”
Opening the door, I beckoned Baridya, Mellicante, and Lord Gabrin to join me. To their credit, none of them showed any sign of disgust or pity at Leoth’s face, though Baridya did blink a couple times in surprise.
Atop the desk, Lord Gabrin unrolled the enormous map and weighted it with four metal stamps engraved with his family seal. The edges hung off the desk, curling upward.
The Kinship Thrones dominated the lower right-hand corner, Whitland and Chelt sprawling over far more land than Itrea. The rest of the Kinship Thrones lay beyond the edge of the map. To the left, farther north, the Itrean continent looked far too small.
“It’s a very long way from Larkhaven to the Kinship Thrones,” I murmured. I had never seen the two landmasses in the same map; displayed this way, the ocean looked unimaginably vast.
“It’s much faster to travel by sea than by land,” Baridya said. “A consistent north-south wind runs between the two, except in winter, so it’s one of the most dependable trade routes. It takes just over a span to reach Larkhaven from the northernmost port in Chelt.”
“Hmm. Well, let’s start with what we know.” I pointed to the open ocean. “At least one ship with reinforcements is on its way to Larkhaven.”
Lord Gabrin dug into his pocket and drew out a coin purse. Selecting a silver varlin, he placed it onto the ocean, then added another atop it. “Let’s say each coin is fifty troops.”
I nodded. “Then we have another fifty Whitish soldiers in Larkhaven.” He added a third coin atop the town. “Though it sounds like most of them will be hard to recognize as Whitish. How many do you think are in Baylore?” I asked Leoth.
He was studying the map carefully, his black hair hanging about his face like a curtain—I wondered if he stood like that deliberately to hide the bruises. “Oh, at least fifty, but it doesn’t matter, does it? More than half the town is on their side. We could be dealing with thousands of fighters if we attack Baylore.”
With a grimace, Lord Gabrin dumped a mountain of silver varlins on Baylore. The pile spread to fill most of Baylore Valley.
“How much support do you have here?” Leoth asked.
Lord Gabrin withdrew a single iron drav and placed it just south of Larkhaven.
“Ah.” Leoth sighed and rubbed at his scraggly beard. “I see why you aren’t ready to march on Baylore.”
“From the sounds of it, we never will be,” I said. The sight of the silver pile around Baylore filled me with despair.
“What is the population of Larkhaven?” Mellicante asked Lord Gabrin.
“Around a hundred thousand, last we counted.”
“And the population of Itrea?”
Leoth answered this time. “A million, give or take. Half of that is in Baylore, and the rest is scattered around the countryside.”
I nodded. “And Whitland?” I was afraid to know the answer. “Does anyone know its population?”
“At least five million,” Baridya said softly. “And Chelt is even larger—closer to ten million. Its port cities are larger than most in Whitland.”
I let out my breath, feeling dizzy.
Whitland could trample us through sheer weight of numbers. Mellicante’s mouth was pursed into a thin line, and Lord Gabrin had taken a step back to lean heavily against the bookshelf.
“The only question is how committed Whitland is to this war,” I said. “If this is just a religious mission—something their priests have started for reasons of their own—maybe only a few will support them. But if the High King throws the full might of the Whitish
army against us…”
“I think we need to assume the worst,” Leoth said. “But we have some advantages.”
“Like what?” Mellicante asked. “You mean the population of Baylore that’s clamoring to join Kalleah’s cause? The walled port city that we can easily defend against invasion? Our vastly superior weapons and military training?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Leoth sank back into the chair behind the desk, and I crossed around to take the high leather seat. The towering pile of silver coins continued to taunt me.
Only I could see Leoth’s ruined face as he said, “We have magic. It’s not much, and I don’t know how to use it in combat, but there is nothing that scares the Truthbringers more than our magic races.”
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing that scares the population of Baylore more, either,” I said grimly.
Leoth raised his eyes briefly to mine, and I thought I saw a flicker of empathy there before he returned his gaze to the map.
“Larkhaven is easily defendable,” Lord Gabrin said. “If we could take the port back, we could sink any new ships that tried to dock.”
My hopelessness was mirrored on the faces of my comrades. “Let’s focus on Larkhaven, then. Until we secure the port, we can’t move forward. We can figure out our next move from there.”
“When will we attack?” Mellicante asked.
We had to move quickly. If a Whitish ship was on its way now, any delays could cost us our victory. I took a deep breath. “We’ll attack two quarters from now.”
20
The Final Hours
N ow that I had moved forward the date of our attack on Larkhaven, we could no longer count on new arrivals strengthening our numbers.
Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3) Page 18