The Fiery Crown

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Like a man knowing he’d dug himself deeper and had no way to back out of the grave he’d made, Con continued with grim determination. “This is what I know. Arguably, it is my one skill, but I do know Anure’s weaknesses and how to play on them. This is a good plan. I’m asking you all to invest in it.”

  “You’re asking us to commit everything to it,” I corrected, not bothering to disguise my vehemence.

  He met my gaze. “Yes. Yes, I am. Because everything is what it will take.”

  “That is not how I was raised to rule, Conrí.”

  “No, you were raised to take the side of caution, to play along, to hide in plain sight pretending to be something you’re not.”

  “It worked,” I pointed out with cool asperity.

  “Until it didn’t,” he shot back. “You knew all along that it was a staying tactic, Lia. You always knew that someday enduring wouldn’t be enough, and you had your plan for that, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t reply to that. Couldn’t. Con had seen right through me, divining from the start that I’d been resigned to being eventually forced into marriage with Anure—and that I’d hoped to kill him in the throes of passion. To at least rid the world of the Imperial Toad, sacrificing myself for that end.

  “Well, Lia?” he asked softly, as if it were only the two of us arguing, instead of in front of our rather large, entirely rapt audience.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “But will You do it?” He’d become aware of our audience again, too, using the honorific he so often forgot in the heat of argument.

  “I have no choice, do I?” I bit out.

  He shook his head. “None of us do.”

  “Then set your trap. May Sawehl and Ejarat have mercy on us all.”

  “Guile it is then.” Percy spoke up, fluttering his sparkling nails in the air as if celebrating. “But that means your trap must be perfectly set.”

  “It will be.” Sondra grinned toothily, sliding a look at me. “As Conrí pointed out, this is our area of expertise.”

  A subtle jibe in there, but I had no idea why she aimed it at me. Con flashed her a quelling frown. Clearing his throat, he continued. “For the trap, we’ve settled on a potential location. Her Highness and I will travel to Cradysica in the morning and—”

  “Cradysica!” Lord Dearsley exploded, dropping his teacup, which shattered on the glazed tiles of the western ocean. Orvyki looked to me and, when I nodded, scurried over to help clean up the pieces. I tried not to look, unwilling to see what the spilt tea leaves foretold. As if I needed more omens of the terrible future. “Your Highness,” Dearsley said over Orvyki’s bowed head, “You cannot think to go to Cradysica at this time.”

  I raised a brow at Con, who returned my cool look with an obstinate one of his own. No help there. “I must, Lord Dearsley. I ask you to hold the throne in My absence. I trust you to do as I would, as My father would.”

  “Your Highness.” His faded blue eyes beseeched me. “There are things I cannot do. Without the orchid ring, I can’t, that is, no one can—”

  “It won’t come to that, Lord Dearsley,” I interrupted. Con narrowed his eyes with interest, but I ignored him. I’d agreed to share relevant knowledge with him, but this wouldn’t affect his battle and damned if I would give him everything of myself. He had enough hold on me already. “We will go to Cradysica. If the battle does occur there, and we—by some miracle—prevail, then I’ll return to the palace and there will be no interruption.”

  “And if You are defeated?” Dearsley demanded.

  “We plan to—” Con started, but I held up a hand to cut him off.

  “In that likely eventuality,” I said to Dearsley as gently as I could, “then you will have worse problems than the line of succession. Calanthe will become one of the many conquered kingdoms. I’ll be counting on you to do what’s needed.”

  Looking as defeated as his worst fears made us, Dearsley nodded. He took the fresh cup of tea Orvyki handed him but didn’t drink, only stared at it in his lap. I knew how he felt, and I couldn’t help him. “Continue, Conrí,” I said.

  He didn’t speak immediately, looking at me with a frown, but when I only gazed at him impassively, he took up the thread again. “I’d like for you all to study Cradysica or, if you’re already familiar, pass along notes. General Kara will provide a relay to bring him information. Anything you can tell us about the topography, the seas, predictions on Anure’s likely plan of attack once he knows Li—Her Highness is there. Everything you can think of. We need every advantage.”

  Brenda had risen while Con spoke, walking along the coastline on the map—staying in the ocean, I noted—until she reached Cradysica. Kara quietly pointed out some features to her. She said something and Kara shook his head. I’d have liked to hear their conversation. I had no doubt, however, that she would pass along her observations.

  Agatha raised a hand. “When do you intend to make it clear Her Highness is traveling?”

  Con glanced at me. I had no answer. This was his game now. I was but a pawn. Bait in his trap. The queen who’d travel to Cradysica under false pretenses, to drown them in blood. I’d escaped Anure’s plans for me only to become Con’s game piece. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the cosmic joke.

  “Immediately,” he said, his voice hoarse. Regret? Surely not. “If Cradysica isn’t the place, I have a second and third option in mind. Her Highness will not be back before the battle is won.”

  And if it’s lost, She won’t be back at all! I nearly said. Lack of sleep and the strain of events had made me punchy.

  Agatha nodded thoughtfully, then stood, her shawl falling around her in shimmering waves of shifting color. “With Your permission, Your Highness, I will make sure word of Your journeying reaches the right ears. How shall I frame it?”

  I’d been thinking about that.

  “We’ll travel by ship along the coast,” Con announced before I could speak. “Under cover of night, preferably. Anure can learn of Her Highness’s presence in Cradysica when we reach it.”

  “No,” I said. Only long training kept me from cracking a smile at the glare of consternation Con turned on me. Oh no, sweetheart. I might be going along with your doomed and impetuous plan, but I’m not ceding all control to you. I focused on Agatha, gesturing to my lady, Zariah, to go with her. “Let it be known far and wide that I’ll be escorting Conrí on a tour of Calanthe. My ladies, Conrí’s companions, and any of the court who’d like to come along are invited to join the entourage. We’ll leave by carriage in the morning. The people of Calanthe are welcome to observe the parade, and may expect largesse. Our first overnight stop will be Cradysica, so Lady Zariah, please send the appropriate messages to the head family so they may prepare, and assist Agatha however she needs.”

  Zariah curtsied. Agatha bowed her head. They both moved toward the stairwell.

  “Wait,” Con said, not a shout, but quite loudly. They paused and he turned on me, the gold of his eyes boiling over in the pitted cauldron of his face. “Overland? A parade? You have got to be fucking kidding me, Lia.”

  Someone laughed, a shocked sound, I didn’t catch who. Dearsley looked apoplectic, Percy patting his arm solicitously as he nodded at Orvyki to bring more tea. There might not be enough tea in all of Calanthe to soothe Dearsley’s offended sensibilities.

  I will not laugh. I will not laugh.

  “Ah, Conrí.” General Kara cleared his throat and approached Con, who looked like he might have a fit of his own. “In all truth, we could put the ships to better use transporting vurgsten and our troops, if you and Her Highness find traveling overland a viable option.”

  “Oh, it is,” I put in gaily. “Such lovely views, and the perfect weather for an excursion. We’ll have such fun!” My ladies, well accustomed to me, made happy sounds of approval.

  A vein throbbed in Con’s temple so visibly I wondered if it would pop, and I swore I heard a low growl from him. I met his furious gaze evenly, letting him see the
challenge in my eyes—and that I would not yield this point. I knew my people and I would at least give them this spectacle if I must travel. No need to panic everyone unnecessarily.

  “Fine,” Con muttered with ill grace. I nearly rolled my eyes at him.

  Brenda had followed Kara back over to the group. “Your Highness?” she asked.

  I nodded for her to speak, even as I kept an eye on Con.

  “The geography looks promising at first pass,” Brenda said, tipping a small salute at Con. “I need to spend some time studying the place more, but it’s a big area. If those numbers on Anure are correct, or an underestimation, the vurgsten Kara here says they can bring is going to be spread mighty thin. Now, I haven’t worked with the stuff, not in combat, anyway, but I have some ideas.”

  “Good,” Con said, sounding reasonably human again. “I was hoping you all would have ideas. We need you to develop the best ways to extend our vurgsten supplies as far as possible.”

  “The most advantage for the smallest amount,” Brenda mused. “What form will the vurgsten be in, what materials do we need to explode it, and are there any minimum values?”

  “And are there substances that sensitize the triggers or amplify their effects?” Percy asked, dropping his façade of languid indifference.

  “Sondra can fill you in on those details.” He pointed at her with a blunt finger, and she smiled with a cruel anticipation, clearly in her element.

  “Oh, love,” Percy drawled, “come sit by me and let’s talk explosions.”

  * * *

  I left them to their discussions. Con might not think much of my approach to ruling Calanthe, but I did know how to delegate to the experts. No one person could handle every damn thing, and at least I understood that.

  You were raised to take the side of caution, to play along, to hide in plain sight pretending to be something you’re not.

  Con’s words rattled around in my head, the truth of them cutting me in places I never exposed to anyone. This. This is what came of closeness to another person. They saw things in you that really no one needed to see. You exposed to their examination that which couldn’t bear to be scrutinized.

  Having no one close to me set me apart, yes. Made me alone in many things. But I was accustomed to that. I could see now, having been so blind to Tertulyn’s true motives, that I’d only imagined our rapport. Our intimacy had been physical, and I’d conflated that with emotional intimacy. And hadn’t I done the same thing with Con?

  Lowering, to realize that opening my body to him, that sharing in the sizzling passion and unraveling release with him had eroded my careful defenses. I’d let an imagined sense of loneliness weaken me, something a queen could not afford.

  There was a difference between aloneness and loneliness. Something I must remember. Having someone to confide in, to talk over problems with, that could be comforting, but it was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to keep firmly in mind that Con was no more my true friend than Tertulyn had been. He might not intend to betray me, but he also wanted his revenge far more than he wanted the best for me.

  That was all right, because I belonged to Calanthe, wedded to Her with a bond that went far deeper than any relationship I might have with another person. I paused a moment on the crushed-shell path that led through the lily gardens and back to the palace proper. My ladies paused also, staying back when I raised a hand to stop them. Closing my eyes, I invited the dreamthink in, to cleanse my mind and spirit. The scent of flowers and distant rain filled my head. The music of honeybees, birdsong, and ocean waves played in enduring harmonies. A light breeze brushed over my face.

  Calanthe greeted me, Her love warming my heart. And through Her, all the people, the plants and the animals—birds, fish, insects, mammals great and tiny—fed me bits of life, all they felt and sensed.

  I was never alone. Not while Calanthe lived.

  “Your Highness!” Dearsley’s voice broke into the dreamthink, and I reluctantly relinquished it. I had too much to do to be daydreaming in the garden. I heard Calla trying to shush him, but I turned, signaling that it was fine.

  “Walk with Me, Lord Dearsley.”

  “Your Highness, I’m most concerned. How can You allow this Slave King free rein to—”

  “Don’t call him that. His title is Conrí.”

  “I apologize, Your Highness. Conrí.”

  I nodded my acceptance. “I understand your concerns, but I’m no doormat, Lord Dearsley. Not even for My esteemed husband.”

  “Begging Your pardon, Your Highness, but I feel I must tell You that I don’t agree.”

  “Oh?” I asked with icy warning that he bravely ignored.

  “I don’t mean to displease You, but I would not be a good adviser to Your Highness if I did not mention that I see You being soft where Conrí is concerned. There is obvious affection between You, and I fear—”

  “You fear that I will lose My head and heart like a ninny and agree, swooning with passion, to whatever Conrí wishes?”

  “Well, n … no, Your Highness,” he stammered at my cutting reply. “I never meant that.”

  “I assure you: There is no love lost between Conrí and Me. We are attempting to work as a team, when possible, but that’s all.”

  “Still, Your Highness,” he continued doggedly. “Your father wouldn’t—”

  “My father is dead. And he lived in a different world. As his shade doesn’t speak to Me, I can only make the best decisions I can.”

  “You have me to advise You,” he replied with stiff dignity. “If You will only listen.”

  “And I value your advice, Lord Dearsley. I have listened. What I hear is that there are no optimal outcomes from the present situation. If you have a solution you have not yet mentioned, I’d love to hear it.”

  “Perhaps His Imperial Majesty could be reasoned with. King Gul managed that. We haven’t tried diplomacy and…” He trailed off as I stopped walking and raised my brows at him.

  “You honestly believe we can repeat My father’s surrender? That we can sell ourselves to Anure over and over, refuse to fight, and continue to bleed Calanthe dry to appease an appetite that only grows?”

  Dearsley opened and closed his mouth in the face of my sharp words, his own voice failing to make it past his lips.

  “Calanthe couldn’t have continued as we were, even before Conrí and his people arrived,” I said more gently. “You told Me that yourself. The increasing tithes, Anure’s spiraling instability. That’s why I married Conrí. Because in him I saw the only way out. I won’t give him free rein, as you fear. I will always do My utmost to preserve Calanthe and Her people, but I see no other paths. I wish I did.”

  He hesitated, nodded glumly, then bowed. “If Your Highness is determined to depart tomorrow, then we have a great deal of business to conduct.”

  “Indeed, Lord Dearsley. Let’s see to it.”

  * * *

  Con returned to our rooms just as my ladies withdrew. It was far from early, and yet not as late as I’d been making it to bed recently. I wore a nightgown and the head wrap I’d always worn before our wedding. Since marrying Con, I’d been vain enough to wear a wig to bed—not comfortable—and donned my head scarf only for the Glories’ benefit. They kept them as souvenirs, something I’d always regarded as silly at best, and mildly revolting at worst. But tradition was tradition, and even our silliest customs were rooted in magic ritual.

  So, for this last night, this last Morning Glory, I superstitiously wanted the head scarf to be as it had been—something I wore all night as I slept. There might not be true magic in the old ritual, but I couldn’t be sure there wasn’t. For all I knew, I might never return to my palace, and it seemed we could use all the good luck imaginable.

  It also gave me something of a shield, helping to protect those parts of me Con had laid bare with his words. You were raised to take the side of caution, to play along, to hide in plain sight pretending to be something you’re not. Some of that might be true, but I wa
s also raised to stand on my own. I couldn’t afford to be so vulnerable to Con again.

  Con looked me up and down, wariness in his posture, though I’d greeted his arrival mildly enough. “Am I late?” he asked.

  “Not at all. I’m early. And I’m exhausted. I thought to get more sleep tonight, before our departure in the morning.”

  “Sleep,” he repeated, following me into the bedchamber and watching me slide into the turned-back covers. He began undressing, dropping his clothes on the floor.

  “It’s a habit of Mine,” I replied drily. “Greatly restorative, I’m told.”

  “Are you still pissed at me?” he asked. Naked, he got under the sheet on the side of the bed he’d co-opted, snuffing the last candle as he did. For a big man, rough in so many ways, he moved with quiet grace.

  “No more than usual,” I replied, and rolled onto my side, turning my back to him. “I need to sleep is all.” An excuse, sure, but one that let me reestablish some barriers between us. And that gave me room to brace myself to face the nightmares. Soon enough they’d be my reality.

  “Lia.” He put a tentative hand on my shoulder, the heat burning through my thin gown, the roughness of his calluses just perceptible. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  No, neither of us did, did we? Both fumbling at this forced partnership, coming from vastly different arenas of ignorance. Casually wounding each other with sharp words. “You’re supposed to sleep. Or go pace, if you can’t.”

  He withdrew his hand. I missed the warmth, the contact immediately. But I had to stay firm.

  “We’ll talk in the morning,” he said.

  I didn’t reply.

  9

  We left in the morning, to great fanfare, of course. The queen’s chariot led the parade, pulled by four perfectly matched horses with the best lines I’d ever seen. They also seemed to need no driver. I decided not to ask about that. Probably more of Lia’s magic that she’d only be cagey about. Along with everything else she was barely speaking to me beyond what formal courtesy required.