The Fiery Crown

by Jeffe Kennedy

  And I realized I’d spoken as her ladies would to wake her for the day, like setting spark to vurgsten and exploding her from sleep. “No. You were dreaming. Go back to sleep.”

  Her face smoothed, eyes unfocusing. “Dawn isn’t long away, though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I feel it. Calanthe is waking. Listen.”

  Sure enough, a bird called, followed by more. A soft knock on the door, and Ibolya called through it. “Conrí?”

  “You were right,” I said. Maybe I’d slept without knowing it. Giving her a kiss—because she still looked lost—I found her lips cool, nearly waxy. “Are you well?”

  She gazed back at me, lips still parted as if she might speak, then she pressed them closed. “I’m fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Still, I hesitated. “Maybe you should sleep longer.”

  She rolled over, turning her back to me again. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  Not exactly reassuring. I lifted a hand to touch her shoulder again, but another knock came, louder. “Conrí?”

  Getting out of bed, I pulled on the soft robe they’d given me and went out to meet Ibolya. The rooms lay in quiet dimness still, no candles lit, and I realized the bright moonlight mingled with coming dawn. Ibolya smiled, looking untouched as dew, wearing a different gown and wig than a few hours before, fresh flowers gleaming in the soft light. “Good morning, Conrí. Did you rest well?”

  “No,” I replied bluntly, and she blinked at me in surprise. “Did you rest at all?”

  She laughed, a practiced sound like bells. “No. I used the time to refresh myself and change clothes. But I did nap while Her Highness visited you in the map tower.” She led me to the adjoining rooms that had been converted for me to bathe and dress in, so I wouldn’t be in the way of Lia and her rituals. Ibolya showed me the bath full of steaming water, as if I hadn’t been doing this every day since the wedding. This room was brightly lit with glass-paned lanterns. “Do you need anything else, Conrí?” she asked.

  “No, I’m good.” Maybe I’d catch a nap in the tub.

  “General Kara requests an audience. Shall I ask him to wait?”

  I snorted at the image of Kara “requesting” anything. Always an early riser, he doubtless kicked his heels in impatience at being blockaded. “I’ll see him now.”

  She curtsied, turning politely away as I dropped the robe and got in the tub. “Shall I bring tea?”

  “Coffee,” I said. They grew the stuff here on Calanthe, one of its many delights. Plus I could use its stimulating kick today. “And get Kara to bring it. He can make himself useful.”

  Ibolya giggled lightly. “Yes, Conrí.”

  “Ibolya?”

  She turned, hand on the door latch, brows raised politely. “Have you known Lia—Her Highness—for a long time?”

  Her face smoothed into a polite mask. “I’ve served Her Highness for five years. Not as long as other of Her ladies.”

  I nodded. “Does she have nightmares?”

  “I couldn’t say, Conrí.”

  Nice, specific phrasing. Not confirming or denying. “Thanks. Send Kara in.”

  “As soon as I load up the coffee tray, Conrí,” she replied with an impish smile. An apology of sorts, for not replying, I decided.

  * * *

  I did fall asleep in the tub, because Kara woke me by kicking the side of it. I squinted at the grim specter of his disapproving scowl, glaring at me over a tray laden with a silver coffee service. “Must be nice,” he commented.

  “Don’t they offer you hot baths?” I replied, taking the mug he handed me while expertly balancing the tray on one hand. “Remind me to talk to the staff for you.”

  “Funny,” he grunted. Putting the tray on the table, he added several spoonfuls of sugar to his own mug before offering the sweetener to me. I shook my head and tasted mine, savoring the roasted bitter richness. Kara pulled up a chair, holding his solid mug in his scarred hands.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Yeah?” I’d met Kara in the mines and we’d fought together for a long time. He almost never hesitated to speak his mind. Seeking me out when he knew we’d be in private …

  “There’s no way to battle Anure’s forces without shedding blood. Plenty of it. The violence goes without saying.”

  “I know.” Of course we all knew that. Everyone but Lia, and the rest of Calanthe.

  “And yet you promised Her Highness.”

  “I said I’d try.” I drained the cup and set to scrubbing myself.

  “Then you don’t intend to keep your promise?”

  I shrugged, soaping my hair and closing my eyes against the stinging suds. “I’ll try. Lia doesn’t understand war, and right now I need Lia compliant.” Did I just say that? What a hypocrite I was, promising one thing to her face, conspiring to keep her ignorant and pliable behind her back. Guess it wasn’t the most monstrous thing about me, though.

  “What of the consequences?”

  I ducked my head and wiped water from my face, getting a look at Kara’s. “You don’t believe this magic stuff has any real-world impact, do you?”

  His eyes got a faraway look. “There are old stories.”

  “Yeah. About unicorns and dragons, too. There’s magic here, I’ll admit, and Lia has it. But really, what’s the worst that can happen? We’ve already survived the end of the world. I don’t see how anything else could be all that bad.”

  Kara focused on me again, giving me an unamused smile. “Did you ask Ambrose?”

  “He never gives me a straight answer,” I grumbled, standing and wringing out my hair before reaching for a drying cloth.

  “Are you sure you’re not just ignoring anything that interferes with your vengeance?”

  “I’m ignoring this conversation. I found a potential location. Cradysica. In case you want to check it out before we meet.”

  He nodded, his gaze dark. “This plan … you’re talking endgame here, Conrí.”

  I pulled on the pants that efficient Ibolya had left for me. “You just figured that out?”

  Standing, he refilled my cup, thrusting it at me. “Have more, because your brain clearly isn’t working.”

  Though I didn’t want it, I drank, waiting for the lecture. “Spit it out, man.”

  “I did some calculations. Even getting all the ships, all the vurgsten here for this trap—we’re greatly outmatched.”

  “Not news, Kara.”

  “If we fail, then there won’t be any coming back. This is an all-or-nothing gambit.”

  “Then we’d better win.” I pulled on my shirt, then fastened my belt and bagiroca. Kara waited in silence. “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “We could go after him at the citadel, like we always planned.”

  “Go up against the impregnable fortress? Last I heard, you thought we’d dash ourselves brainless and end up as beach trash.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “This plan can work, Kara. I feel it in my bones. We’ve never had an advantage over Anure like this. It’s what the wizard’s prophecy meant.”

  “Did Ambrose say that?”

  “I didn’t ask,” I bit out, shouldering my rock hammer. “Why are you bugging me about asking Ambrose every damn thing?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this plan.”

  “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, distant gaze going through me. “Details will help. Cradysica, huh?”

  “Cradysica.”

  * * *

  We convened in the map tower, so we could look at the geography around Cradysica and the approaches. It helped to have a strategy meeting around a map, but the Calantheans still managed to make it look like a garden party.

  Lia’s ladies circulated with trays of pastries, fruit, hot floral tea, and cool lemon-mint ices, serving everyone themselves rather than bringing servants in. Setting the tone, Lia wore a gown that seemed to be
made of flower petals, all shades of red and pink, like that fountain of roses in her garden. She should have looked soft and gentle in it, but something—maybe the wig of unnatural red that set off the blue jewels of her crown, or the sharp lines of her makeup that put me in mind of thorns—made her look hard and dangerous. Not for the first time she reminded me of the carnivorous flowers we’d encountered in the steaming Mazos jungle.

  “Was breakfast really necessary?” I asked when she wafted past. Yeah, I’d never been able to resist poking those Mazos blossoms, either.

  “People need to eat, Conrí,” she replied with cool disinterest, no sign of the vulnerable woman I’d kissed only a short while before, or the passionate one who’d spread herself open for me an arm’s length from where we stood. “I’d think you’d know that, being such a brilliant commander and all. You’ll have plenty of time to talk about war. Ah, Lord Dearsley, thank you for indulging Me with such an early morning, come and sit.”

  Without another glance at me, Lia took the old man’s arm and led him to a chair. With him she was all sweet smiles and charm.

  “Tea and crumpet, syr?” Sondra inquired in a posh accent, handing me a plate and a fragile-looking cup decorated with more roses.

  “Don’t start with me,” I growled, very glad I’d at least already had coffee.

  She snorted. “Teach me to be nice to you.”

  While she retrieved her own plate, I chewed the pastry savagely. It was flaky and buttery, and more delicious than I wanted it to be. Good thing Lia had agreed to leave for Cradysica the next day. I’d grow fat as Anure eating like this and lounging about, forever talking and never taking action.

  “Why so cranky, Conrí?” Sondra asked with fake sympathy. “Didn’t get enough sleep?”

  “Were you on watch last night?”

  “Ayup.” She crooked her fingers as she sipped her tea, giving me a malicious smile. Like mine, her hands weren’t the sort that normally held pretty dishes. Not anymore. With permanently stained skin, thickened nails, and gnarled knuckles, she made a mockery of the cup just by pretending to hold it like a proper lady. “You two were sure ‘studying’ that map for a long time.”

  I didn’t rise to her bait. Instead I scanned the gathering. “Where is Ambrose?”

  She shrugged. “In his tower. Last night he said he had things to do and wouldn’t make the meeting, but that he’ll be ready to go to Cradysica in the morning.”

  “He said that last night? But we hadn’t decided yet that…” I didn’t bother to finish the sentence, especially with Sondra’s caustic expression. “Why do I even bother working out problems if he already knows everything?”

  “I’m sure Ambrose would say that magic doesn’t work that way.”

  I grunted a humorless laugh, because she was right. At some unseen signal, Lia’s ladies converged to her, flanking their queen as she sat, helping her to arrange her gown. Once Lia nodded, everyone else seated themselves. Except for us. Kara moved over to Sondra and me, and we all remained standing. Lia gave me an opaque glance, then addressed the gathering.

  “Thank you, all, for attending Me this morning. Conrí?”

  8

  Con coughed, clearing his throat and brushing pastry crumbs from his fingers. He passed his plate and cup to Kara, who looked like he’d been handed a wailing infant. Petty of me, perhaps, to take Con by surprise, but I hadn’t quite recalibrated my temperament. What little sleep I’d gotten had been spent in nightmares, and Con had nearly caught me in that vulnerable state. Tonight I would have to do better to hide their effects. Not an easy proposition, the way the nightmares seemed to be intensifying.

  The dream images had taken on a new clarity, too. A wolf, gnawing off my hand as I tried to help it. Calanthe, thrashing beneath my feet. Waking. The temple above Cradysica falling into the sea. Cradysica it would be. I couldn’t fight this. It had been all I could do to drag myself to this meeting. Thank Ejarat—and my clever ladies—for makeup.

  “Your Highness.” Con bowed deeply to me, then turned to the others. “An update since yesterday. My people are bringing in all the vurgsten supplies we can in preparation. General Kara?”

  Kara had relieved himself of Con’s dishes, and stood with hands folded behind his back in military style. “Thanks to Her Highness’s assistance,” he intoned in his harsh voice, nodding to me, “we’ve sent ships to establish a relay that will expedite bringing as much vurgsten to the island as possible before the emperor’s fleet can interfere. We’ll keep as much aboard local vessels as possible, so the maximum amount of vurgsten can be relayed to the chosen site quickly.”

  “I ran some numbers,” Brenda put in. “Even guessing at most of them, to spring the kind of trap you’re thinking of, we’re going to need a fuck-all huge amount of vurgsten.”

  “And at least that many ships,” the flamboyant Percy added, examining his nails as he lounged sideways in his chair. “Preferably two times fuck-all.”

  Agatha, wrapped in her shawl, though the morning was far from cool, gave him a look. “This is a serious situation, Percy.”

  “Agatha, darling, until I’m dead, nothing is so serious that I won’t poke at Brenda’s colorful language,” he drawled. “Seriously, however, I ran some numbers, too. How do you propose to mount any kind of credible defense when we are outmatched in every way? Your reputation precedes you, of course, Conrí, but these odds are sadly stacked against us. We’re looking at staggering losses, even without certain … strictures.” He glanced at me, but I kept cool and showed no reaction. Perhaps they only now realized that Con and his people had truly conquered Calanthe after all. I certainly seemed to have lost the power to affect events.

  “We’re looking at staggering losses no matter what we do,” Con replied with temper. “Would you rather die fighting or sitting here dithering?”

  “You’re talking to a room full of people who’ve gone to great trouble not to die, Conrí,” I reminded him. “Including yourself.”

  He wheeled on me, golden eyes flaring with heat, but brought himself up short at a hail from below. Nahua, who’d remained near the stairwell, turned at the sound. She took something, then brought it to me, offering it with a curtsy. A small letter, brought by bird. I sliced it open with the sharp side of my nail, scarlet in honor of my bleeding heart.

  “Lia! Let me—” Con started forward, reaching for it, and I shook my head slightly.

  “It’s not him,” I said.

  He relaxed, chagrined, but I gave him a smile, strangely warmed that he’d remembered and sought to protect me—even in the midst of his impatient raging.

  “I’ve been expecting this,” I said for the group at large. “Reports on the number of ships mustering at the emperor’s naval yards and harbors in Yekpehr.” I passed the letter to Calla, who understood the code, which allowed me to observe everyone as she read aloud the numbers of each type of ship and estimated troop load. As everyone processed the information, the room grew silent enough that I could hear the sound of waves on the rocks.

  “Can I see that?” Con asked after a moment. Calla glanced to me for permission, and I was small enough to enjoy Con’s irritation at that. Now he knew how it felt. At my nod, Calla took it to him, and he plucked it from her fingers without ceremony or thanks, then handed it to Sondra to read. Charming.

  “This is about a party, the guests, and what they wore,” Sondra said, a puzzled frown drawing her brows together.

  “It’s a code, Lady Sondra,” I informed her with exaggerated patience.

  “One that Lady Calla understands,” Con said to me, with some significance.

  “Yes? I trust my ladies to—” The force of his suspicion hit me.

  “Does Tertulyn know the code?” he asked, though he knew the answer, and he sounded compassionate enough, though I felt like a blithering idiot. I hadn’t fully processed the ramifications of this betrayal. It made my head ache.

  I held out my hand for the letter, and Sondra gave it to me, with far less cour
tesy than Nahua had. “The information is good, though,” I said, scanning it. “The handwriting belongs to My informant, and the correct cues are present to ensure authenticity.”

  When Con looked surprised, I added, “I’m not an utter fool, Conrí.”

  To his credit, he didn’t touch that remark. He simply nodded. “Then the worst we can assume is that Anure will be aware that we know this information. As he’s unlikely to lower the numbers, we’ll figure he might change them up, or increase them. Given this, I estimate we have—at best and with luck—a tenth of the might Anure can, and no doubt will, bring to bear. Probably we’ll have considerably less than that. We can’t win with might.”

  “Which,” I put in, “I believe has been My point all along.”

  Con gave me an unamused look. “I never claimed we’d win by fielding greater forces.”

  “No, you think we can win at all, which is patently beyond us. All of this planning is wishful thinking. Everyone here agrees that the odds are impossible. We cannot win, Conrí.”

  “Begging your pardon, Your Highness,” he said with exaggerated courtesy that only highlighted his anger, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “See here, young man,” Dearsley burst out. “I’ll not have—”

  I waved him silent. “Thank you, Lord Dearsley, but I can handle this. You were explaining My stupidity, Conrí?”

  He didn’t miss my slicing tone, the grooves around his mouth deepening, resignation in the set of his mouth, but he forged on. “Ignorance is not the same as stupidity, Your Highness, or I’d be the stupidest man on Calanthe with all I don’t know. What I do know is fighting Anure. Have any of you accomplished what we have? Have you taken cities back from Anure’s grip, stolen his ships, taken his fiancée for your own?”

  Oh, he did not say that. Heat flooded my face, and I only hoped the white makeup covered it. That was another reason I didn’t depend on my will to alter my appearance—I couldn’t always depend on myself to keep the deception in place. Obviously, or I wouldn’t have slipped so mortifyingly, allowing Con to see my true eyes. And because of sex. I couldn’t believe myself.