Crown of Chaos

by Sarah E. Burr

  Jax’s insides grew cold.

  “Saphire will never stand alone against enemies of the realm.” Landon’s declaration rang with sincerity.

  Darian nodded. “Enough of your pontificating theatrics, Savant. Get to the point.” His congenial manner, so appropriate for a host, had evaporated.

  A crimson flush curled up Qylvard’s neck, revealing his displeasure at being berated. “I’d like to make the Duchess a counteroffer. Why doesn’t she forfeit her crown and go into exile?”

  Horatio growled. “Give it up, Savant. Just say what you rode all this way to say to my granddaughter. Or are you too much of a coward?”

  Qylvard clenched his fists at his side. “I am not a coward.”

  “Oh, really?” Duke Mensina cocked an eyebrow. “Sending a lady’s maid to kill Jacqueline instead of just doing it yourself? How very ballsy of you.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so tense, Jax would have laughed at her grandfather’s choice of words, but uneasiness at what Savant had said earlier still consumed her. “It’s not just me anymore.” His threat echoed in her ears.

  “We—” Qylvard motioned wildly around the chamber “—are through bowing to the will and might of Saphire. We are done groveling. We are done living in the shadows of the great Saphire. You are not the future of the realm, Duchess.” He locked eyes with Jax. “The Coalition of Right is.”

  Jax knew it fell to her to ask. “And what is this Coalition of Right?” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears.

  “Not what, but who.” Qylvard’s maniacal grin widened. “Formed to sustain the system established by the Children of the Virtues long ago, the Duchies of Savant, Beautraud, and Tandora have formally united to prevent any rogue nations from destroying the peace we have worked so hard to maintain.”

  Jax felt the air leave her lungs. Rogue nation? Is that how he truly viewed Saphire?

  He made a sweeping bow and continued. “And the Coalition of Right is pleased to welcome into the fold the Duchies of Zaltor, Kwatalar, Hestes, and Crepsta, as they have pledged their loyalty to our mission.”

  One of Jax’s earliest childhood memories was of her father, Duke Richard Xavier, playing with her in the palace gardens. He’d bought a crude child’s card game during his visit to the Saphire capital, a gift just for her. Basking in the afternoon sunshine, Jax and her father played the silly game, with Jax growing more frustrated with each hand, pouting over each win her father secured.

  “Dear one, you must learn to control these reactions. Never let your opponent know what you’re really thinking.” Duke Richard tapped her crinkled forehead.

  She stuck out her tongue, annoyed once again that he’d played a winning hand. “How am I supposed to do that when all I want to do is smack you, Papa?”

  He chuckled at his lively little girl. “I’ll tell you what my father told me. Think of it like playing a game within a game. Not only are you trying to win the hand, but you are trying to master the conflict warring inside you.”

  Jax wiggled her nose, trying to erase the burning desire to best her father from her chubby cheeks. “Is it working?”

  Richard Xavier tossed his head back, his bellowing laughter echoing all around the courtyard. “In time, dear one. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that cold façade.”

  Everything her father ever taught her about royal poise and control was swallowed by the raging anger that ripped through her as she sat in the circle of sovereigns. Zaltor and Kwatalar’s betrayals she could stomach, but Hestes and Crepsta?

  Her vengeful gaze sought out Florian and Henrik. Amusement still danced in Florian’s eyes, along with a hint of madness. Virtues, George had been right. She should have listened to his warnings during their ride north; she should have been better prepared to be betrayed by the effects of Hestes’s hateful sorrow. The death of Florian’s children had sent the grieving man down a dark path.

  Henrik, on the other hand, did not meet her gaze. The frail, old Duke stared at his papery hands, fingering the signet ring bearing the crest of Crepsta. His allegiance to Savant stung her in ways she could not fully process. After the role Henrik’s vile nephew had played in the deaths of her parents, how could he do this to her? Was it punishment for the cold shoulder she’d given him since their murder? Had she pushed him too far away while she attempted to wrangle her own grief? Why would he turn his back on Saphire after all these years, when moments ago he’d greeted her as an old friend?

  “Have I finally managed to shut you up, Jacqueline?” Qylvard’s jeer filtered through the seething blackness within her.

  Perry rose from his chair, his expression lethal. “This Coalition of yours still has no chance of defeating our allied forces.”

  Duke Mensina nodded. “Or have you forgotten that Mensina, Pettraud, and Lysandeir are all formidable adversaries in our own right?”

  The casual shrug that rolled off Qylvard’s shoulder sent a chill through Jax. “Perhaps that was once true, Horatio, but not anymore.”

  Landon leaned forward in his makeshift throne. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Give me a little credit,” Qylvard said with a chuckle. “I have known from the start of this campaign that I would be hard pressed to entice your three duchies to the side of right. So, I had to come up with another solution.” His smile grew. “I’m surprised you haven’t already guessed it, Jacqueline, given how your little mind works.”

  Jax inhaled sharply, forcing herself to bury the onslaught of emotions cluttering her focus. She would deal with her feelings later. Instead, she quieted her thoughts, narrowing her gaze on Qylvard. The surety in his eyes filled her with sudden dread. “What have you done?” Her question was barely a whisper.

  Qylvard’s face contorted into grinning triumph. “You know what they say: history repeats itself.” He glided over to Delphinia’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I have to give credit where credit is due. If it hadn’t been for our little scheme at Ogdam Oasis, I never would have thought to bring such a brilliant plot to an even grander scale.”

  She knew he’d given her the pieces of the puzzle to snap into place on purpose. He wanted her to realize what she was up against, the horror of what was to come. She thought back to her stay at the desert manor, where she’d discovered a dead body and a box of poisoned chocolates meant for her. “You’ve weaponized the maulroot that grows in the ducal gardens of Savant.” She did not pose it as a question. She knew him to be capable of such evil. “Just like the Ancient Faith did to wipe out the rebel armies raised by the Children of the Virtues.” History repeating itself, indeed.

  Duke Savant bowed his head in concession. “Very good, Duchess.”

  Her grandfather bellowed as he pounded his fist against the arm of his chair. “What have you done, Qylvard?”

  For the first time in her life, Jax saw a glimmer of panic in her grandfather’s stately gaze.

  “As we speak,” Qylvard drawled as he resumed his pacing, “hundreds of barrels of a very special Hestian wine are being dispersed across the continent, en route to military garrisons throughout the realm.”

  Jax’s heart hammered against her chest, a sharp pain shooting through her. “No…”

  “Yes.” Duke Savant’s grin threatened to split his face in two. “I’d like to see the might of Saphire without her legions of soldiers to defend her.”

  A haunting premonition of ravaged garrisons consumed her thoughts, the bodies of the brave men and women who’d pledged their service to Saphire, felled by poisoned wine they believed to be gifted by their Hestian ally. I will not let this come to pass. While she had been prepared for some type of brash act on Savant’s part, she had not expected it to come during the opening session of the summit. She had to act now. “You’re a fool to play your hand so quickly, Qylvard.” She forced a sly grin across her face, relishing the twitch in Savant’s eye. “I would have thought you a better card player.” After passing a coded whistle through her lips, Jax glanced up at the domed
ceiling stories overhead. A shadow soared through one of the topmost windows, diving down at the assembled circle of sovereigns.

  “What’s this? An attack?” Delphinia shrieked, reaching for Qylvard’s arm.

  “Hardly,” Jax said with a wry smirk, pleased that her enemies still viewed her as a threat. That meant there was hope after all. Whatever their plans, they were not infallible.

  A mass of glossy feathers perched beside her, talons pressing gently against the left sleeve of her gown. The alert, golden eyes of one of her prized crowned falcons stared at her, awaiting orders.

  With her right hand, Jax stroked the bird with revered fondness. To her relief, his luminous feathers were dry, signaling that the light rain outside had already passed them by. “My friend here has been following me since I left Saphire.” She noted that Duke Savant’s tanned skin had paled slightly. “You see, Qylvard, I’ve thought it quite telling that all along, you’ve seemed so certain of victory in your little vendetta against me. After your stunt at Ogdam Oasis, I knew my allies and I had to be careful about what we imported. I must admit, lacing Hestian wine with the poisonous maulroot would have been quite the attack against us, given that for so long, Saphire has viewed Hestes as a friend.” Jax watched Florian wince in his seat before she pulled out a small bit of parchment and a quill from the pocket of her gown with her free hand. “Why, you could have very well killed half our forces before we even knew what was happening.” In a fluid motion, Jax jabbed the tip of the quill into the flesh of her left palm, drawing blood and gasps from around the room. Perry lurched forward in muted protest, but her hard gaze froze him in place. Dipping the quill into the reservoir of blood pooling in her hand, Jax scrawled a hasty note. Letting blood drip down her arm as she folded the paper, she fought to keep an amused simper off her lips. Jax knew she presented a frightening scene, all done to shake her enemies to their very core. Slipping the note into the small pack attached to the crowned falcon’s underbelly, Jax threw her left arm in the air, launching the messenger bird skyward. The falcon spread its wings and disappeared out the sliver of a window from which it had arrived.

  As Jax tugged free a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it around her bleeding hand, she finally met Qylvard’s stupefied expression. “So, I hope you have another solution up your sleeve, or it looks like your Coalition of Right might already be at an end.”

  His lower lip quivered. “Your messenger bird will never reach all your allies in time.”

  Darian cleared his throat. “Jacqueline’s falcon is flying to Fort Uhstal, one of the major military garrisons in Cetachi. I’m a bit offended, Qylvard, as it seems you’ve left me out of this little scheme completely. It’s as if you don’t consider Cetachi a formidable opponent.” He rearranged his features into a mocking pout that almost made Jax laugh out loud. “Jacqueline has so kindly lent Cetachi some of her own armed forces these past months, while my own nation grows and trains its army. Once word reaches the garrison about your newfound alliance, an entire cast of Saphirian crowned falcons will be sent out across the realm, alerting our allied duchies of the embargo on all goods from this Coalition of Right.” Darian gave Landon, Duke Mensina, and Perry reassuring nods. “Our people will not fall victim to this pathetic attempt to eradicate our forces.”

  Florian withered under Darian’s rebuke. Katalina and Amyra shifted in their makeshift thrones, their expressions rotating between unease and awe at the allied response to Qylvard’s masterful attack. Delphinia sat with her arms crossed, her lips drawn so tight, they disappeared into her myriad of wrinkles.

  Jax let her features settle into a confident mask of indifference as she turned her attention to the quivering figure before her. “You’ve overplayed your hand, Qylvard. Our united armies will not fall to your subterfuge. Now, about forfeiting your crown—”

  “No!” Qylvard stomped his foot, his muscular frame quaking with fury. “We will not bow to your demands. Our Coalition armies can still stand against your numbers.” He charged headlong toward her, violence radiating from his unhinged expression.

  Perry caught up to Savant, his hand coming down hard on Savant’s shoulder and yanking him backward. “I’d think twice before breaking the sanctity of the War Council, you miserable bastard.”

  Appalled by Qylvard’s aggressive reaction, Jax allowed herself to slightly relax her grip on the arm of her chair, impressed with her husband’s physical ability to wrangle the enraged Duke.

  Landon joined Perry and helped haul the thrashing man back to his seat. “Jacqueline has so graciously presented you with a solution in which you get to keep your heads,” the young Lysandeirian sneered. “If it were me, I would not be as courteous toward those who tried to end my life.”

  Qylvard growled, shaking their hands off of him. “I would rather die than forfeit my throne to some petulant child.”

  Jax chuckled darkly at the irony of the situation. I’m the child here?

  “This isn’t over yet, Jacqueline,” Qylvard snarled. The menace lacing his pledge stilled Jax in her seat. “Just you wait.”

  “Enough.” Waylon sent Qylvard a silencing look, rage evident in those eyes of simmering heather. Yet, Jax wondered how much of his resentment was actually directed toward her at the moment. “Duke Cetachi,” he finally said as he turned to face Darian, his mane of wild hair framing his displeasure, “I believe it is time for the War Council to recess for the evening.”

  Jax snorted. If you had any sense, Waylon, you’d forfeit your crown now and leave with your head intact. Poor Duke Beautraud thought he only needed time to regroup with the failed Coalition of Right to come up with another plan to take her down. He was only buying them all a stay of execution. With her crowned falcon on the way to Fort Uhstal to raise the alert, she knew her forces would begin making the final preparations to march to war. If the War Council did come to a fight, she wanted Saphire to be the first to make its move on the battlefield.

  Darian did not look pleased to end the evening so abruptly, but he bowed his head at the request. “By order of the War Council bylaws, I cannot deny the request for a recess. We shall resume discussions in the morning.” His gaze darkened. “However, until such time, everyone will remain under guard by the Knights of Grace. Food shall be delivered to your rooms, although you may eat where and with whom you’d like.” With a clap of his hands, the chamber doors swung open, a line of armored warriors standing at attention, one for each of the sovereigns.

  Waylon stormed out the doorway, followed by a murderous Qylvard, a nervous Florian, and an ashen Delphinia.

  “You certainly have a way of keeping things entertaining, Jacqueline,” Katalina purred. Jax noticed that she and Amyra seemed hesitant to depart the grand hall. But after sharing a bemused shrug with one another, the two Duchesses glided after the group in their wake. Only Henrik Crepsta remained behind, the last of the Coalition of Right.

  “Shouldn’t you be groveling at the feet of your courageous and clever leader?” Jax snapped, her harsh sentiments echoing off the walls. She had to give the old traitor some credit. He at least had the decency to meet her unforgiving gaze.

  Henrik licked his dry lips as his regal eyes watered. “I hope you will come to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done,” he simply stated before shuffling toward the door. As he reached the threshold, he turned to her once more. “I had to do what was best for the realm.” And with that, he left the company of Saphire and her allies.

  Chapter Six

  His grip on the windowsill tightened when he saw the shadow dart from its perch. For two hours, he’d stood in the small room he’d been assigned, gazing out the window, watching the crowned falcon for any sign of movement.

  She’s summoned him.

  A burning ache coiled in George Solomon’s chest. His desire to be by her side crushed the breath from his lungs. I need to get out of here. He needed to find some way to get to Jax. If she’d already summoned her secret resource this early on in the game, something must
be terribly wrong.

  Tearing himself away from the window, George peered out into the corridor of the largest guardhouse in the entire compound. Two Knights of Grace stood sentry at the lone exit. Their threatening spears crossed each other, barring any hope of rushing between the two imposing warriors.

  George’s hand went instinctively to his side, reaching for his sword, but his fingers only met air. He’d been relieved of his weapon when Prelate Brath had brought him and Ivan to their assigned quarters. How he yearned for his most prized possession. He felt as if part of him had been ripped away…or was that feeling due to Jax’s absence?

  His chocolate gaze flickered back to the five-story tower situated outside his small window, knowing the true source of his pain. The need for his weapon was nothing compared to the chasm in his heart, growing larger with each passing moment they remained separated. He should be in there with her. They should be facing this obstacle together. Together…

  He went back to the window and leaned his head against its cool glass pane. It terrified him how greatly he needed her to feel complete. Shut away in this room, his loneliness threatened to swallow him whole.

  “Get a grip.” George gritted his teeth together, trying to ease his rapid breathing. But he wouldn’t be able to relax. Not until he was back at Jax’s side. The stakes of the political arena now were too high, even if those around him had no clue what they were really up against. He was the only person Jax had trusted to share her vision for a united Realm of Virtues. Not even Perry knew what his wife had in store to bring about true peace to the realm. Whatever the outcome of the War Council, Jax intended to unite the duchies under a sole monarch, allowing each individual nation to be ruled by elected officials, just as Saphire and Isla DeLacqua did now. When she’d first shared the idea with him those many months ago—positioning herself as the monarch, as Queen, of the realm’s united nations—he hadn’t hesitated in his belief that she had the conviction and fortitude to bring about such change. She had always been a force of nature, letting nothing get in her way. And once she set her mind to obliterating the oppression the common-born in Saphire faced, George knew it would only be a matter of time before she sought to do the same throughout the realm. She was not one to stand by while injustice was being done. She would make a fine queen. She already is one in my eyes…and in my heart.