by N M Zoltack
“Olympia,” he said firmly, “I am not trying to be an ignoramus, but I do not see how you can hope to lay claim to the throne and actually sit upon it without an army.”
“There is too much fighting as it is,” she argued, her nose in the air.
“And you wish to add to it.”
“No,” she said hotly. “That is why I have no army. I do not want one, nor do I need it.”
“Because you would do as the man you hate most did and kill people in their sleep.”
“Their claim is—”
“Sabine’s claim is weak, yes, very weak, but can you honestly say that Rosalynne is foolish to believe she deserves the crown?”
“Deserves the crown because of the blood on her father’s hands,” Olympia said bitterly. “Believe me, she does not deserve the crown. I’ve heard about the executions she—”
“All in her father’s name,” Bjorn argued. “She has not killed anyone since she was crowned.”
“No? Not even the person responsible for killing her brother. Her brother was murdered, was he not?”
Bjorn exhaled loudly. “Yes, Noll was killed.”
“By…”
“No one knows.”
“So, she is weak and incompetent.” Olympia shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“She is weak by not killing anyone for their crimes, but if she did, she would be ruthless and terrible. As for incompetence, that is on her guards, her knights, whoever she has looking into her brother’s murder.”
“The incompetence of the people she surrounds herself with remains her incompetence,” Olympia said dryly. “Don’t you agree?”
“You hate her, and you have never even met her.”
“And you, what? Love her even though she banished you?” Olympia heaved a sigh. “She does not deserve your loyalty.”
“And I am not loyal to her.”
“No? Because you aren’t loyal to me.”
He jabbed his thumb to his chest. “I’m loyal to me.”
Olympia laughed and smiled ruefully. “I believe that might be the most truthful statement you have ever uttered.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but, Olympia… If you do not wish to go to Olac, fine. We won’t, but maybe we should stay here instead. Wait and see who wins the war and then—”
“If the Vincanans win, I will never be able to get close to the throne,” she said. “It will be too late.”
“You do not know that.”
“I do,” she said softly.
She had a point. The Vincanans were fierce fighters, all of them, male and female alike.
“Don’t tell me you think the Vincanans will win.”
“How can they not?” she asked bitterly. “Yes, there is a certain wisdom in waiting until one side defeats the other, but…”
“You are not losing faith, are you? If the Fates are on your side, you will wear the crown and sit on the throne.”
“I know, but…”
“Your faith is lacking,” he accused.
“My faith in you is lacking,” she retorted. “Can you best Vincanans guards? Their king, their prince?”
“I cannot say.”
“Would you best them if you could?” she murmured. “For me?”
“I will not turn you over to either queen,” he said.
“Nor will I,” she said dryly, “but you did not answer my question.”
Bjorn hesitated and then said, “I would like the chance to square off against a Vincanan.”
“In my name?”
“In any name.”
She nodded slowly. “I appreciate your advice and your truthfulness.”
“So, we’ll stay here?”
“No.”
“Go to Olac?”
“Only if you count Olacic Mountain in Olac.”
He sighed. “The horses won’t be able to do well on the mountains.”
“Perhaps we should sell them and then acquire new mounts at the first town we come across.”
“If that is what you wish.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “If you want to come with me—”
“I’ll come, but I want a hot meal first.”
“Do not worry. I do too.” She smiled at him, her dark eyes sparkling.
Olympia went to the door, opened it, and murmured to a serving girl. Bjorn could only shake his head. She was stubborn, far too much so. He could hardly believe that he was wondering what the world would be like if she were to be queen. There was no possible mean for her to reclaim the throne, and yet, he knew she would give up anything, would do anything to take it back. Rosalynne and Sabine would be doing themselves a disservice if they neglected to take her seriously, but then, neither of the queens knew Olympia lived. If Olympia were careful and bided her time, she might have a chance after all.
Perhaps he could convince her to slow down some. He truly thought that would give her the best chance of acquiring the throne, and for now, he was on her side.
By the Four, he was most intrigued to see who would end up wearing the crown once the dust settled after the war finally ended.
That was, if there remained a kingdom for a king or a queen to rule over.
29
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
The sun shone brightly, and Rosalynne could not resist its allure. The day was cool, cold even, and she dressed warmly, and then she left the castle, her two guards with her. The preparations for the upcoming battle were well underway, and depending on how the Vincanans sought to attack the castle, Rosalynne might be stuck within its walls for days or even weeks. Yes, a walk with her guards would not be remiss this day.
She did not head to the marketplace. Instead, she spied a blazing fire, and she made her way there. The townspeople had built a bonfire and were dancing and laughing, music playing, children playing. It was such a joyful sight that it brought a smile to her face.
Then, she noticed a cluster of men whispering together. They continued to glance her way enough times that she motioned Bernard forward.
“Won’t you learn what they are conversing about?” she asked in a low tone.
“Of course, My Queen.” He bowed to her and marched over to the men.
The guard immediately had the men ill at ease, and they clammed up, but Bernard had a way of knowing how to talk to anyone, whether they were nobles or commoners, and soon, the men were talking to him earnestly. The guard's face was white when he returned to Rosalynne's side a full ten minutes later.
“What is it?” she asked. “Did they have news about the Vincanans?”
“No, nothing about the war,” Bernard muttered.
She frowned, her brow furrowed. The guard never spoke in such a low, sorrowful tone.
“Just tell me please,” she pleaded.
“My Queen, you do not—”
“I do,” she said firmly.
The guard sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head toward the sky.
She glanced over at the men. They were watching her, waiting for her reaction. Her palms grew dewy, and she clenched her skirt.
“Bernard?”
“They claim that your father killed the babe, killed Bates.”
Rosalynne felt as if she had punched in the stomach. She felt utterly exposed, and only the realization that some of the townsfolk were watching her, waiting for her reaction, gave her the strength to nod.
“Do you mean to say that he—” Bernard shook his head. “It is not my place to—”
“He did,” Rosalynne murmured. “I only just learned this recently myself. Come. I have no desire to be here any longer.”
Wilfred had been standing close enough that he must have overheard, and he led the way with Bernard trailing behind Rosalynne. As she turned to leave, she caught the gaze of one of the men, and she maintained eye contact until he looked away first.
What did they think of her, knowing the kind of man her father had been?
And yet, it was common knowledge the heinous act her father had commit
ted in order to become king. Why was that one deemed acceptable? Neither occasion should be, if Rosalynne were honest to herself.
Which would mean her father’s claim to the crown was void.
Likewise, so was Rosalynne’s.
And Sabine’s for that matter.
But then, there were no living Lis to take the crown.
Disquieted and silent, Rosalynne rushed past the guards the moment they entered the castle. Sabine was in the library, and Rosalynne marched over to the other queen. Rosalynne did not think it possible for her to be more furious.
“You wish for us to be allies, to have a unified front for the sake of Tenoch, and yet you go out and tell the peasants about my father?”
“About your father?” Sabine arched her eyebrows. “I do not know what you are referring to.”
“No? So it is merely a coincidence that this knowledge has reached the peasants within days of our truce?”
“What knowledge do you speak of?” Sabine asked. “Truly, I do not know what you speak.”
Rosalynne said nothing. Her chest was heaving from her frantic breaths. Finally, she muttered, “My father and Bates.”
“I thought it rather public knowledge that Bates was not his,” Sabine said.
Rosalynne narrowed her eyes. Was Sabine that deceitful?
“No. Well, yes, but… My father… Your husband… He killed Bates.”
Sabine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “I thought the baby died in his sleep.”
“As did I.”
“Weren’t you in the room?”
“Yes, sleeping and how I wish I had been awake, but… You did not know.”
“No. Truly.”
Was Sabine telling the truth? Her shock seemed genuine, but if not her, then who?
The one who had been spying on her.
Greta.
An assumption of Rosalynne’s part but one she felt rather certain of.
Still, fury laced through Rosalynne. If the Granthams had never come to Atlan, how different everything would be, but, no, most of the changes had occurred because of the former Queen Aldith and her adultery.
A knock sounded at the door, and a peasant stood there.
“I have a message for Queen Rosalynne,” he said, some of his words whistling from the gaping holes in his mouth.
Rosalynne swept past Sabine. “Follow me. You can tell me the message elsewhere.”
“You do not need…” Sabine started and then sighed. “Rosalynne, you may believe me or not, but I am truly sorry.”
“For blabbing to the peasants?” Rosalynne side-eyed the messenger. “Do not be offended.”
“I’m not. You could say most anything at all, and I would not care,” the peasant said.
“For the king’s actions,” Sabine murmured. “For him, for Bates… for Noll.”
Rosalynne had no words. Doing her best to conceal her feelings, she ducked out of the library and entered the nearest tea room. The peasant followed her inside.
"I'm Armel, one of the peasants who follows Ulric. He sent me."
“I assumed as much. What news do you bring?
“We aren’t sure where the ships will be heading, and we do not know how many will be reaching our shores, but we were told that twenty fighters can fit into one vessel.”
“Very good,” Rosalynne murmured. “Multiple ships, twenty apiece… We have to hope some of the major cities have sent fighters themselves and that they are well on their way at that. Otherwise, they may come when it’s too late.”
“After the battle, you mean, right?”
“Armel, we have to hope and pray to the Fates, but we cannot rest easy. The Fates provide for those who take action. Life, Peace, even Chaos and Death, they all require us to expend our energies, and we will do just that. We must if we are to survive.”
He nodded and then fell into a clumsy bow.
She held up her hand. "I thank you for sharing this news. What are Ulric and the rest of you doing?"
“We’re manning the beach.”
“To the south?”
“More to the southeast.”
“You haven’t the manpower to spread out more,” she mused.
“Do you want us to move south?”
“No. I have had archers scanning the skies for messenger birds, and so far, only ours have been found. I do not think the Vincanans have sent any back to their homeland, but it is possible they may have another way to communicate. They might know that we have learned about their coming ships, so they may abandon the idea of sailing longer to land at another place. Or they may have no idea that we know and will continue on their present course. It is impossible to know for certain.”
“Unless we see a sign of them communicating with them.”
“Indeed.” She smiled at the astute peasant. “For now, I must prepare for a battle at sea, must determine where each ship should be docked… If they have twenty warriors on each of theirs, how many would we need on each of ours?”
She hardly noticed as Armel bowed and left. Sabine had a council of her own, but Rosalynne had one as well, and hers was the only one to have a masters-at-sea. Already, she had a meeting with Wymond Ward, but he must have this new information, and perhaps he would have a sound idea on how to ensure they were not spread too thin or left vulnerable at any point. Was it too much to hope that the Vincanans would sail all the way to the Averla Bay, ignorant of the dangers lurking within Stokeford Swamp?
A battle at sea and one against the castle. Which would occur first, and which would they win? Because Rosalynne was not naïve. The castle very well could fall. The Vincanans had already sneaked inside the castle walls once. They could do it again, but with numbers large enough to actually seize control of the castle? That remained to be seen, and, by the Four, she hoped that remained an impossible task for the warriors from the south.
30
Sir Edmund Hill
As much as the knight hated to put more pressure on his pregnant sister’s shoulders, Edmund had no choice but to seek out Tatum. He needed to learn more about her potions and what all they were capable of as they were an important part of his plan. He was convinced he had only survived against Marcellus when they first met and their swords collided due to her potion giving him increased endurance and strength.
His pregnant sister. As much as it pained Edmund to think of Tatum in that fashion, he tried to. Thinking of her as anything else hurt far too much, but he had none to blame save himself. He cared for her a great deal… a great deal too much.
To his surprise, a sign was posted in the window of Mermaid’s Tears. Closed until after the war. Closed? That would mean no additional income for her and Dudley. All of her work was going to the crown. For free? Edmund did not know, but he would not be surprised at all if that were the case. Tatum did not care for coins as so many others did. Her wish was for her potions to help others, and she was most certainly helping all of Tenoch with her current workload.
Despite the sign, the door was unlocked, and Edmund entered. He quietly shut the door behind him. The place was normally open, the doors, the windows, with light streaming in as much as the customers wandered in and out. That it was so empty, the door and windows shut or covered, seemed wrong.
Edmund glanced toward the back room.
“You need to take down that sign!” Dudley shouted.
If Tatum responded, she spoke too loudly for Edmund to overhear.
“It doesn’t matter? How can you say that? We need the coins! Yes, yes, I know we’re at war, but just think of it. Fighters and knights and guards from all of Tenoch will be here soon. They will need lodging. We have to have our inn up and running before they arrive!”
A pause. Edmund grimaced. Listening to Dudley berate Tatum made Edmund want to punch his brother in the face. Had the man no compassion? Even if he remained ignorant that his wife was with child, he should not speak to her thusly.
“I can sell the potions for more than you can. Why? Because people trust
a male alchemist. They don’t trust—Yes, I know I’m not—The people don’t know that, and I need more money for the inn.”
Edmund had heard enough. He walked around the counter, threw open the back door, and entered. “Dudley.”
His brother shifted away from standing face-to-face with Tatum, who, although pale, stood tall, her eyes not red at all. She looked as anger as Edmund felt, but she was not expressing it.
Well, she might be willing to hold back her tongue to try to calm her husband, but Edmund and Dudley had fought before, and Edmund would stand up for her.
Perhaps, though, he should try to avoid coming to blows for Tatum’s sake.
“Brother, I think we need to go for a walk,” Edmund said as calmly as he could.
“You need to leave.” Dudley’s gray eyes flashed.
“I’m here on business,” Edmund started.
It was precisely the wrong thing to say.
“The crown has stolen my wife from me,” Dudley said. “She doesn’t have time to make any more potions to sell, and I—”
“I thought that when one wed, two became one. What is this ‘I?’ Should it not be ‘we?’”
“What do you know of marriage?” Dudley asked. He laid his hands on Edmund’s chest and shoved.
Edmund hardly backpedaled, but when he did likewise to Dudley, his brother nearly fell to the floor.
With quicker reflexes than Edmund anticipated, Dudley was back on his feet, his fists swinging. The first blow Edmund blocked, but the second landed square on his jaw.
“Stop this!” Tatum cried out.
Edmund had been about to punch his brother in return, but hearing her words, he instead blocked his brother’s onslaught. Dudley was not a seasoned fighter. He could hardly maintain his balance with how fierce and hard he was trying to hit Edmund.
“Dudley, please.”
He would not heed his wife, though.
“Brother, you are being—”
“You know nothing about me and my life. Stay out of my affairs!” Dudley shoved Edmund again, glowered at his wife, and stalked off.
Edmund fixed his sandy brown hair and faced Tatum. To his horror, she was crying.