The Fiery Crown

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “At least after fighting it out first,” she commented wryly.

  “I’m willing to try if you are.”

  She considered me. “As long as you’re ready to be a graceful loser. No withdrawing to sulk.”

  I winced. “Fine. I’ll try. But you agree to listen to my side. Really listen,” I emphasized when she opened her mouth to argue.

  She closed her mouth again, then smiled sweet as honey. “I’ll try,” she mimicked.

  Laughing, I squeezed her feet. “Fair enough. Here’s some practice: I think Tertulyn betrayed you and left the island.”

  “She could be hurt or dead,” Lia countered with that regal calm I’d begun to identify as one of her weapons. “Have you considered that possibility?”

  “If so, wouldn’t you have sensed it? She’d be here on Calanthe, so you’d know. Unless you haven’t concentrated and looked for her.”

  Her mouth firmed in unhappy acknowledgment of my logic. “I’ve looked.”

  “Had Tertulyn’s behavior changed at all recently?” I asked, feeling my way carefully. This tentative agreement and conversational territory held hidden vurgsten charges that could explode in my face.

  “You mean, since we heard that the terrible Slave King and his marauding armies had razed the city of her birth and were on the way to do the same to Calanthe?” She deliberately employed a tone of cool amusement, her gaze dagger-sharp.

  “We didn’t raze Keiost. The rumors of my brutality have been exaggerated.” I caressed her foot in demonstration, drawing a quirk of a smile from her.

  “My point is, we didn’t know that. Everyone was upset and feared the worst. So no, she didn’t do anything different than…” She trailed off, a rare line forming between her brows.

  “Something?” I prompted.

  “Maybe nothing.”

  “But…”

  “But I’d had her watching Syr Leuthar, Anure’s emissary, that day I had you, Sondra, and then Ambrose brought to Me for private audiences. She fell asleep and failed to warn Me in time—and Leuthar saw Ambrose with Me when I’d hoped to keep him hidden.”

  I didn’t say anything. If one of my own people had failed in such a critical assignment, I would not have been forgiving.

  “She was exhausted,” Lia said, as if I’d argued aloud. “I was annoyed with her, yes, and surprised at the lapse, but we’d been under pressure and I’d been asking a great deal of her.”

  I nodded. Lia’s brows forked down in a true frown. “Ejarat take you, Con. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “That taking a nap sounds like a flimsy excuse to fail you in a way that served Anure’s purposes?”

  She looked away, her mouth tight.

  “How about this?” I decided to push, since we’d gotten this far. “That letter from Anure quotes what I said at our wedding toast. I called him an upstart emperor of a false empire.”

  “Without clearing it with Me.”

  “And I never will. I don’t expect you to, either. Neither of us has to get permission from the other. We can fight it out in private after.”

  She gave me an arch look and one of her eloquent silences, but I caught the amusement in her eyes. “My point is,” I continued, “someone who was there told Anure what I said. Odds are, that same person also mentioned what you wore.”

  “It could’ve been anyone.”

  “It could’ve been Tertulyn.” I returned her frustrated gaze with even calm, willing her to consider the truth. “I’m sure it’s painful to contemplate, but you’re too intelligent to let emotion interfere with reason.”

  She pulled her feet out of my grasp and pivoted. I braced for the backlash, but she only blew out a long breath, putting her hands to her lower back and arching into a stretch. “What happened to My man of few words?” she muttered, almost to herself.

  “Well, Jeaneth has been healing my lungs and throat,” I volunteered. “It’s easier to talk now.”

  She threw me a mirthless glance. “All right, let’s suppose your wild speculations are correct: Tertulyn was a spy and she disappeared because she went to Anure. If so, we face utter disaster. She knows everything about Me, as you so astutely pointed out. I can only imagine how Anure would exploit that knowledge.” She straightened, practically layering steel into her spine. “I need to consult My advisers.”

  “And you’ll convene the Defense Council. We can plan this war.” Not a question.

  “Yes. But I make the final decisions. I won’t let you jeopardize Calanthe, Con. No matter what.” She reached for her shoes, the stiff corset making her lean awkwardly.

  “Let me.” I snagged the delicate heels and slipped them onto her slender feet, then eyed her. “Calanthe is already in jeopardy,” I pointed out.

  “I know that. But it’s My duty to do my utmost to protect Her, whatever the cost.”

  “I know that,” I echoed mildly. “But we’re better off in some ways. Tertulyn revealing your nature to the Imperial Toad could play into our favor.”

  “Enlighten Me.” She had a dry way of saying that, and I figured she demolished impetuous courtiers with that tone. Not me. Not much, anyway.

  “We can make strategic choices because we know what Anure wants now.”

  “Haven’t we always known that?” she asked in a patient tone that wasn’t patient in the least. “He wants Me and Calanthe.”

  I shook my head. “No, he wants you. He promised to destroy everything but you. This is good.”

  Her lovely mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Good? How can this possibly be good?”

  I wasn’t explaining myself well. “Lia, you are a beautiful woman, but there are other beautiful women in the world.”

  She pursed her glossy black lips. “Why, darling Conrí, you’ll turn my head with such lavish compliments. Do go on.”

  I gave her a narrow look for her sarcasm. “Let me walk you through the logic as I see it. Why do you work so hard to keep your nature a secret?”

  She started to snap out a reply, but paused. After a moment of consideration, she said, “My father taught Me to. He said that if Anure ever found out, he’d stop at nothing to have Me.”

  “And yet he betrothed you to Anure.”

  “As a deception. Make him think he had what he wanted without actually giving it to him.”

  “Why didn’t Anure insist on taking you with him?”

  “I was only twelve.”

  “We’re talking about Anure—he’s done far worse than marry a twelve-year-old girl.”

  She stared through me, her canny mind clicking through a history she’d known so well she hadn’t examined it closely. “Because I was not yet Queen of Calanthe.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t have the orchid ring.”

  I nodded. “The Abiding Ring.”

  “I remember you and Ambrose calling it that before, when you first arrived on Calanthe.”

  “Because it’s mentioned in the prophecy.” When she raised her elegant brows in patent scorn, I added, feeling more than a little defensive. “We talked about it, when we discussed getting married.”

  “You mean, when you invaded My private chambers and held Me captive until I agreed to marry you?”

  “I didn’t exactly hold a knife to your throat,” I muttered, though she had a point.

  “Whatever.” She waved that off. “I didn’t pay attention to your talk of prophecies because I dismissed it as another ploy.”

  I’d thought the same about Ambrose, more than once. “I’m not much for prophecies myself. But it’s come true.” I cleared my throat and recited.

  “Take the Tower of the Sun,

  “Claim the hand that wears the Abiding Ring,

  “And the empire falls.”

  She gazed at me, her face a mask of perfect calm, but her eyes betrayed her turbulent thoughts. “Ah. Now I discern the reason for your determination to marry Me.”

  Shit. “It wasn’t—”

  She stopped me with an upraised hand, bl
ack and white nails flashing with lethal grace, all hint of emotion skillfully hidden under her icy calm. “No, Con. You need not explain. I never deluded Myself that you harbored any but the most mercenary intentions toward Me.”

  I set my teeth, wanting to chew my own tongue off. But I couldn’t deny the truth of that. Besides, she and I were the same that way. We’d entered into this marriage with open eyes, closed hearts, and a common goal. Still, I needed to say something … “Lia, I—”

  “So”—she spoke over me with crisp speed—“it’s salient strategically that Anure wants to capture Me, and we can assume he wants to exploit My nature and the orchid ring for some purpose of his own.”

  “Yes.” I allowed the diversion. Really, what more was there to say? “Do you have any idea for what?”

  She shook her head slightly, but her gaze remained opaque, hiding something. “Why didn’t Anure force the issue once I ascended to the throne and had the ring?”

  “I don’t know. Because you’ve cleverly held him at bay?”

  “Ha! Nice try.” A bitterness laced the edge of her voice, making me want to kick myself for carelessly shattering the fragile trust we’d built. She might’ve shuttered her gaze, but the line of her jaw, clear and sharp, showed her tension, the fear she’d nearly set aside for a while.

  “Anure wants you. Intact. That’s important.”

  “Is it?” She raised a dubious brow.

  “Yes. And it’s useful to know that he wants you frightened and off balance.”

  “Forgive Me if I’m not reassured.”

  “He doesn’t know you,” I told her, reaching for words. I couldn’t explain my complicated feelings about her and our marriage, but I could give her this. “You’re no fragile flower. He might bluster, but you’re stronger than he is.”

  “I’m well aware of My strengths, and My limitations.”

  “You have me,” I said, wishing I could vow something more. “I have ideas, and this letter helped refine them. When I promised we’d be stronger together, I meant it.”

  “I know you meant it.” She seemed about to say more—probably something biting about how my meaning something didn’t make it true—but she didn’t. Instead, she moved to stand. I got to my feet, offering her a hand in assistance. After a slight hesitation, she took it. Then I did my best to adjust the back of her skirt, fluffing the useless bit of ruff at her rear end so it looked more or less like it had before. She watched me all the while with that cool bemusement.

  I took up the letter and made to give it to her, catching the slight moment of revulsion as she flinched from it. “Any reason to keep this?” I asked, pulling it back.

  Her eyes flew up to mine. I glimpsed the fear in them again that she’d buried beneath the icy calm, and something else. Sorrow? Defeat? “No. We know what it says. Destroy it.”

  “As my lady commands.” This was something I could do for her.

  I felt like a boy again in that moment, back in Oriel when the bits of vurgsten we carried in our pockets were for sparkle and show, all to impress the girls. I pulled out a striker, clicking it to impact the embedded vurgsten and holding the letter against it. It exploded with a flash and a bang! that made Lia jump and exclaim, then press her hand to her heart as a startled laugh escaped her. I grinned back at her. The paper leapt into flame, bright heat and sulfurous fumes billowing. I held it as long as I could, then released it to the sea breeze, watching as the small comet of it wafted away and dissolved into ash.

  She watched it go with a look of satisfaction, some of her tension burned away with it. “Thank you. That feels better.”

  “Worked for me, too.” I pocketed the striker, shaking the burn away. “Lia, about the prophecy and our getting married, I—”

  “Did you burn your hand?” Her gaze had gone to my flicking fingers.

  “It’s nothing.”

  But she took my hand in hers, turning it over. I nearly pulled away, embarrassed for her to see. The skin of my hands in particular is forever stained with the ash of Vurgmun. Black soot is ground into the cracks, the skin gnarled and rough as the rock embedded in my pores.

  “Thick-skinned,” she noted, repeating what I’d said earlier. Her gaze lifted to mine, the blue-gray of her eyes softer in that stark black-and-white frame.

  “Yes. The trouble with thick skin is it makes me insensitive. I don’t notice the burn until the damage is done.”

  Her perfectly painted lips quirked in wry understanding. Then she dropped my hand and drew on her imperious manner like a cloak. “Walk with Me—and explain these ideas. How are we stronger together?”

  Recognizing that as a peace offering, I gave her my arm and she took it, though she might as well have been a whiff of mist against me, and I escorted her back to the palace. “When you married me, you gained access to vurgsten, too. We have powerful weapons to use against Anure. And knowing he wants you intact gives us an advantage.”

  “You’re dancing around your meaning. Explain,” she commanded, in her casually imperious way.

  Sawehl help me that I found that so … enticing about her. And that I admired how she still refused to admit that she’d been as frightened as enraged when she sought me out. She’d come to me, though, and that was something, too, despite everything else.

  “Basic war strategy,” I told her. “If we know what the enemy wants, we can draw him out of his fortress. Wanting something—particularly if it’s obsessive, and Anure is nothing if not obsessive—will make his focus narrow on just that. He tends to forget about everything that’s not his target. We’ll know what he’s aiming for, which means we can lay a trap and destroy him.”

  “And you’ll bait this trap with Me.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “For the last few days, I’ve been trying to figure how to keep Anure from simply surrounding Calanthe with battleships and barraging us with vurgsten until we were all dead or too broken to fight when he landed his troops to finish the job.”

  “No wonder you have such a morose nature,” she replied, “with such thoughts.”

  I flicked a glance at her, unable to tell if she was teasing. I cleared my throat. “My point is that now I know he won’t attack us that way, because he wants you intact. That’s helpful information.”

  “I’m so relieved to be useful.”

  I laughed, and she made a little snarling sound in the back of her throat. I stroked her hand. “The point is, we can plan now. Before we meet with your Defense Council, I need to confer with my commanders. Get their take. If you agree,” I added belatedly.

  She signaled to another of her ladies-in-waiting, Calla, lingering decoratively on the path ahead. “Lady Calla, inform Conrí’s commanders that they should meet us in My private courtyard, please. In a bit, I’ll require Dearsley, Brenda, and Percy. Ask them to be ready to enter at My summons.”

  “Not Agatha, Your Highness?” Lady Calla asked.

  Lia raised one brow. “The weaver?”

  “Begging Your pardon, Your Highness, but Agatha seemed useful to You at the last … session.” Calla’s eyes slid to me and away again. Huh.

  “Very well, give Agatha the option to attend if she’s interested.”

  Calla curtsied and glided off, and we turned at the next fork, Lia guiding.

  “Thank you for accommodating me,” I offered, feeling stupid about what I was trying to say.

  “I can be reasonable,” she replied in a tone that was anything but. “If you communicate with Me.”

  Ah. She’d tossed me a treat for behaving well. So be it. “So noted. I’m happier with us communicating, too.”

  She snorted softly at my emphasis. “Does this mean you’ll stop pacing My gardens like a caged wolf?”

  Had I been pacing like a caged wolf? Probably. I’d felt like one. “I thought it would be better for me to stay away from court. I know I screwed up.”

  “Hmm. Nevertheless,” she said without moving her lips as a group of approachi
ng courtiers bowed to her elaborately—and gave me the side eye. Once they passed, she continued, “Avoiding Me solves nothing. We need to present a united front.”

  I sighed. First Ambrose nagging me, then Lia. “I’ll attend stuff when I can. Unless I’m busy.”

  “Truly busy,” she qualified. “No excuses. No lies.” She scraped one long nail along the back of my hand as she hissed the word lies, underscoring our agreement.

  “I don’t lie,” I said simply. “I don’t have it in me.”

  “Why do you say it that way?” She relaxed her nail and glanced up at me, her gaze penetrating.

  “What way?”

  She considered. “As if something you once had was lost.”

  As from the first moment she laid eyes on me, she saw through me, right to the hollow core. But I guess she needed more from me, words to make up for my clumsy remarks earlier.

  “I did lose … everything. The mines…” I had to clear my throat. I focused on the walled garden ahead, one of Lia’s palace guards opening the inset wooden door and bowing us in. Once we were inside, I spotted the flowering tree with its elaborately weeping branches, and the bench beneath where Lia had awaited me the first time we’d been alone. It seemed much longer ago than a week. But it hadn’t been, so no wonder we were essentially still strangers. A big step up from enemies, anyway.

  I took a breath, knowing I needed to get through this. “Vurgmun killed everything human in us, Lia. You should know that. We look like people, but we’re not. We’re empty inside.”

  “Surely there’s something.” She spoke as fluidly and elegantly as always, but with a slight scratch in her voice, as if bothered by what I’d said.

  I searched for words. “Yes: the craving for revenge.”

  She was quiet, assimilating that. “Nothing else?”

  The door opened again, admitting Sondra, Kara, and Ambrose. In Sondra’s and Kara’s eyes, I saw the reflection of the same hollow core I felt in myself, and that same quality of burning rage that consumed all other thoughts and feelings. When the fire of revenge animating us burned out at last, we’d collapse into ash.

  “Conrí?” Lia spoke my name gently. She tapped my hand with her nail, and I realized I hadn’t replied to her question. I tried to smile at her and couldn’t. Whatever she saw in my face put a faint line between her brows.