“That’s part of why you’re sending us,” Astar guessed, though it wasn’t really a question. “We’re a bunch of young people who won’t be seen as any kind of threat.”
She leveled her astute and steely gaze on him. “I’m sending the seven of you because the sorceress who has never failed to steer me in the right direction says that it needs to be the seven of you.”
He flushed in chagrin. “Of course. Foolish of me.”
Thawing a bit, her narrow mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Not entirely foolish. It also fits my strategy well to have it be a group who will be underestimated by many. Well done, figuring that out.”
His flush turned to pleasure at the praise. While his auntie Essla could be a warm and even funny person in private, when she wore the crown—literally or figuratively—she rarely thought beyond making decisions and cleaving to the goddess Danu’s clear, bright lines of justice. Ursula wasn’t lavish with praise, and never offered idle flattery.
“Yes,” she mused, long finger trailing down the list of realms and rulers, “I’m hoping a group of young people on a pleasure excursion will seem innocuous enough. I don’t want any of the thirteen kingdoms to be concerned about the stability of the realm or my rule. And I don’t want any country outside the Thirteen to get the notion that I’m thinking about conquest—or that I’m vulnerable to one. And, though we have reasonably good relations with Dasnaria, Empress Inga is still barely holding the cap on those factions unhappy with the social change she’s instigated. If it looks like I’m attempting to gain power, they’ll use that against her.”
“They haven’t forgotten that they planned to conquer us and failed,” Astar mused.
“Memories are long and resentments immortal,” Ursula agreed in an absent voice. “In some ways, it would’ve been better if we’d accomplished the job through might rather than a coup from the inside.”
“But you prevented countless innocent deaths that way.”
Ursula looked up from her list, expression somber. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t go back and change it. Danu is always a champion of the innocent and the defenseless, regardless of how their leaders may behave.” She blew out a breath. “But those who beat their chests for war would’ve been cowed by a show of power. If we’d crippled the Dasnarian Empire, I’d worry less about what kind of problems I’m leaving for you to face. Especially now.”
Was that fear on her face?
“You’re not going anywhere soon, Auntie Essla,” he said, giving her a charming grin to cover the unsettling sense of seeing weakness in her. Of the prospect of losing her someday. Of having to be the high king and handle things all on his own.
“Unlike resentments, I am not immortal,” she replied wryly. “At any rate, I’m not worried about the Dasnarians with this crisis. Not yet, anyway. They are fortuitously on the opposite side of the world from this rift—thank Danu—so that’s not your concern. If we handle this situation deftly, they won’t even know I’ve sent an envoy to realms beyond my own. Which I’m not doing, since you won’t be on official crown business. By the time events escalate to the point where it impacts far Dasnaria, well…” She closed her mouth over the next words, saying nothing more.
“So, we’re to seem like a group of friends on a pleasure jaunt,” he said, filling in the hole made by unspoken terrors. “Touring through the northern kingdoms, sailing the strait in midwinter, traveling to the northeast Isles of Remus, and maybe even far Kooncelund?” Astar wasn’t as delicate about the cold as his Annfwn cousin and friends—after all, he’d spent many a bitter winter snowed in at Windroven or Ordnung—but this didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of fun.
“That’s where your creative diplomacy will come in,” Ursula replied drily. “And we’ll concoct a story for you to spread about the lunar eclipse, to ease people’s concerns. I could wish that it had happened on a night when every blessed soul wasn’t already gazing at the moon.”
“Maybe that’s part of why it happened,” Astar tendered, and she gave him a sharp look.
“A deliberate warning?” she mused. “Could be. Could be. But that doesn’t help us in the moment. This cover gives you curiosity as a reason to investigate odd occurrences, explore unusual corners of the realm. I’m sure you and your cohort of mischief makers will come up with suitable excuses for your larks.”
Astar wanted to protest that assessment—because it wasn’t accurate about Stella, Gen, or Lena—but it was certainly true that Rhy, Jak, and Zephyr got into plenty of trouble. Astar always felt somewhat like the middle child, though he was technically the oldest of the group, able to see both sides of situation. When he was with the more serious girls, he enjoyed their conversations about sorcery, weather magic, taking dragon form, and why shapeshifting didn’t require conservation of mass. Rhy and Jak had a tendency to get Astar into mischief, it was true—but he’d had some of the most fun of his life with them.
And Zephyr… Surreptitiously, he scanned the room, catching no glimpse of her brilliant scarlet gown, no hint of her musical laugh. Zephyr would get him into the worst kind of trouble if he let her. He’d been so tempted, so close to capitulating any number of times. If she knew how close, which of her flirtatious techniques had widened the cracks in his determined resistance, well… he wouldn’t stand a chance. And with these developments, he needed to shut her out more firmly than ever.
Astar made himself meet the queen’s gaze steadily. “Should I apologize for past mischief?”
Her stern façade softened a bit. “You’ve done remarkably well keeping the, shall we say, more unruly elements duly corralled. I’m not going to ask about the cask in the outer courtyard or the damage done to the well housing there only hours ago.”
Astar winced. He hadn’t even considered that the well housing might’ve cracked during the escapade with Rhy and Jak’s giant cask of mjed. What was amazing was that the problem had already been noted and that the high queen knew about it, despite the ongoing celebration and ensuing crisis. “I’ll see that it’s fixed.”
“No.” Ursula tapped the list. “You will see to getting this quest underway. The well housing is being dealt with.” She eyed him like the hawk that was her emblem. “You’ll learn this: pick good people to work for you, trust in their expertise. Handle problems immediately.”
“Are we still talking about the well housing or the quest?” he ventured.
“Same principles apply to both situations,” she replied crisply. “Know what your people do well and let them do it. Know their cracks and weaknesses and make decisions accordingly. Librarian, what do you have for us?”
Dafne passed over a new piece of paper. “I need to confirm with the sorceresses,” she said, “but this is my projected timeline from Andi’s initial forecasts.”
Ursula took it in with one keen glance and passed it to Astar, looking expectant. A test, then. Wonderful. He studied Dafne’s neat notes, her handwriting familiar from years of being tutored by her. She’d sketched a jagged line over the map, with circles radiating outward, various inscrutable symbols at particular locations, and various time signatures noted on each. Making sure he understood, he went over it again, then looked up to find both women watching him.
“So, this line indicates the rift, the circles are ripple effects, and these symbols are some sort of catastrophic event Aunt Andi saw but can’t divulge more details about?”
As Dafne nodded, Ursula tapped the paper. “So, given that—where do you go first?”
Astar rubbed his forehead, willing himself to think. It was hours past midnight, and he rarely stayed up anywhere near this late, especially recently, since Harlan had him out in the training yard sparring with broadswords at dawn. He studied the time signatures and the odd symbols. “Lake Sullivan, but I don’t understand what could be happening there.”
“What lives in Lake Sullivan?” Dafne prompted.
“The sea monster?” Astar frowned.
“It’s likely a misnomer to call it a sea mons
ter,” Dafne replied. “According to local legend, it’s been living in the lake for centuries, only recently sighted again—recently being a relative term—with the return of magic twenty-five years ago. It could be that Lake Sullivan was once an inland sea, one that covered most of the Grace River Valley. As the seas withdrew, the creature became isolated, and the lake gradually turned fresh. However, there is contradictory evidence in the geological record that implies—” Catching Ursula’s expression, Dafne stopped, clearing her throat. “Regardless, the creature is elusive, and we don’t know how it came to be in the lake, but we do know the people of Carienne regard it as a symbol of good luck and prosperity.”
Astar nodded, making a mental note. “So, we need to travel to Castle Elderhorst to warn King Groningen in Carienne about a potential catastrophe at Lake Sullivan concerning their good-luck lake monster, and tell him the cataclysmic lunar eclipse is nothing to worry about.” He studied their faces, receiving neither confirmation nor denial, and continued with a mental sigh. “After that, the other points of concern are the Isles of Remus, which are independent allies with varying levels of interaction with the high throne—mostly distant—and Kooncelund, which has been historically insular and resistant to diplomatic overtures.”
Ursula nodded. “With one salient exception. King Cavan of Erie married a princess of one of the Isles of Remus and formed a covert alliance.”
Astar searched his brain. Less whiskey and mjed would’ve been wise, though their uplifting effects had long since faded. “Did I know that?”
The high queen smiled thinly. “Uorsin didn’t know. Cavan and Nix—then prince and princess of Erie—attended my coronation. Her existence as Cavan’s bride came as a… surprise.”
“The queen’s name is Nix?”
“It’s a long story and something to hear,” Dafne replied with some enthusiasm. “I have it in the library at Nahanau. There may be a copy here in Ordnung.”
“He can hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were,” Ursula put in, an odd lilt of humor in her voice. “You’ll see. So, yes, after Elderhorst, you could go to Castle Marcellum in Erie and ask for a pass to the Isles of Remus, where Nix and Cavan’s son, King Isyn, now rules.”
“What kind of pass?” Astar couldn’t quite figure why he hadn’t known any of this.
“We don’t know,” Dafne mused. “I’m very much hoping you’ll be able to tell us if you—when you return.”
Taking pity on Astar’s confusion, Ursula clarified. “I realize that we can count the number of things the librarian doesn’t know on one hand, but the Isles of Remus have long been shrouded in mystery.
“But some are almost certainly warded,” Dafne put in, brown eyes sparkling with academic interest. “It’s said they appear and disappear according to the wishes of the denizens.”
“I’m calling that a bit of groundless superstition,” Ursula said with asperity. “Land does not appear or disappear, but it can be hidden from perception.” Behind her back, Dafne made a face, studiously looking at her document when Ursula glanced her way. “You, Astar, will be in a position to determine fact from fancy—and I’ll rely on your levelheadedness. Follow your intuition; use your head.”
“So, the Isles of Remus and King Isyn are the eventual goal,” Astar tendered. When neither woman replied, he sighed, out loud this time. “I’d best go find Rhy, Zephyr, and Gen, as it sounds like our overland route is already set.”
“That exercise was mostly to get our imprudent Tala to actually familiarize themselves with a map of the Thirteen and beyond.” Ursula cracked a thin smile at his surprise. “I’m not above a bit of trickery.”
“They won’t be pleased at wasting their time,” Astar said, feeling weary already.
“Well, then.” Ursula pushed the timeline document toward him. “Sounds like you have your first crisis in leadership before you. Payment for the damage to the well housing.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. “All right, I’ll handle it.”
“Speaking of leadership,” Ursula continued, “you know that some of these more distant kingdoms retain old superstitions and misbegotten beliefs about shapeshifters and the Tala.”
“Yes?” He wasn’t sure what the high queen was getting at now. Ursula had always encouraged him to be discreet about his bear form outside of Mohraya and Avonlidgh, where the people had known him since he was a baby. His more far-flung subjects didn’t need to be reminded that their high king could become a grizzly bear at will.
“Try to keep a rein on the shapeshifters,” she suggested gently. “No showing off unnecessarily. Keep the forms that might incite questions—or panic—out of sight.”
She meant Zephyr, whose First Form was the gríobhth, like her father’s. A creature that many considered mythical, and most thought of as a monster. He could control himself. Controlling Zephyr was another matter entirely. And not something he’d ever thought of doing. He liked Zephyr wild. “I’ll do my best,” he promised anyway.
“One more thing.” Ursula dug through a stack of papers and withdrew a sheet, passing it to him. He stared at the list of names in dull incomprehension. “A list of your potential brides,” she said, raising a brow at his confusion. “Since you’ll be traveling through the realms where some of them dwell, this is a good opportunity for you to meet them, perhaps form an attachment.”
Ursula met his gaze evenly, her eyes steel gray, and he swallowed the protests and questions. It was no coincidence that his loving auntie Essla had handed him a list of suitable brides and cautioned him about Zephyr’s gríobhth form in nearly the same breath. The high queen had been a warrior first and foremost, and very little escaped her keen attention.
He folded the list and put it in the pocket of his trousers—as far from the paper bearing Zephyr’s unknown promise as he could get it. “Understood,” he replied as neutrally as he could.
“Good.” She nodded in satisfaction. “Courting your potential brides adds to the cover story of your journey as well. Also, if any of the disasters Andi has foreseen manifest, the news of a royal wedding will be a welcome spot of joy to mitigate difficult days ahead. If you do find a girl—from the list, mind you—that you like enough to marry, give her this.” She set a ruby ring in front of him, the cabochon shape making the color deep and dark as blood.
He stared at it, oddly unwilling to pick it up. “One of Salena’s rubies.”
“Appropriate for a crown princess and the next high queen,” Ursula replied crisply.
Taking the ring with a sigh, he put it in his pocket with the list.
“Astar,” Ursula said more gently, “no one is asking you to marry someone you don’t like. There are a lot of names on that list, and all would bring beneficial alliances or relationships with the high throne. All I’m asking is that you meet these women and give them a fair chance to win your affection. Don’t be distracted by other… pretty faces.”
“I know,” he conceded. After all, they’d had this conversation before, more than once, and he knew where his duty lay. “I will, of course, do my best to be charming—and act as duty demands.”
She cracked a wistful smile. “You’re so much like your father that way. I know I can depend upon your honor and integrity.”
He nodded, unable to say anything, thoughts of his long-dead father lodging in his throat. “I should go find the gang studying the maps, stop them from going in the wrong direction for too long.”
Nodding, Ursula turned her attention to new information Dafne handed her, while Dafne met his gaze with warm brown eyes, a hint of sympathy in them.
~ 6 ~
Zeph was getting a headache from trying to decipher the mossback collage of lines and color when Astar came into their study, bringing—oh, joy—more pieces of paper with him. He looked tired, and worse, apprehensive. She’d love to smooth those lines from his brow and kiss him until desire fogged his summer-blue eyes instead of trouble. The man worried way too much.
“Where’s Gen?” he asked, looking
around the small room as if he’d expected a lot more people than the two of them.
Zeph and Rhy exchanged glances. “She went to take care of something,” Zeph said, using the excuse Rhy had given Dafne. Seemed like a good all-purpose-yet-vague reply. “But look,” she told him proudly, responsibly, “we’ve been studying the maps.”
“The Port of Ehas is a place with many ships,” Rhy added, nodding wisely. They’d both been pleased to determine that much. “We can sail from there. Plus, it’s a warm place, like summer all the time!”
Astar looked pained, and Zeph felt herself deflate. She hadn’t expected lavish praise, exactly—though maybe she’d fantasized about Astar saying how proud he was of her—but she and Rhy had tried. It seemed like effort should count for something.
Tossing his papers on the table, Astar sat on the other side of Rhy, letting out a sigh. “I have additional information. Her Majesty wants us to take this route.” He pulled the map more in his direction, showing them where he meant. “We’ll take the big trade road along the River Danu to Castle Elderhorst in Carienne. We’ll meet with King Groningen, then from there to Marcellum, where we’ll meet with King Cavan and Queen Nix. At that point, they’ll hopefully give us permission to visit King Isyn in the Isles of Remus. There might be a port to depart from in northern Erie.” He skated his finger along the line that indicated the coast. Astar had big hands, with long, clever fingers. Zeph could just imagine how they’d feel on her skin.
“If not,” Astar was saying, and Zeph had to remind herself to pay attention to his words, “we’ll have to go back down to the Grace River estuary. There’s a port city here that will also work.” He took in their silent stares and grimaced. “It’s not nearly as big, nor as warm, as Ehas—you’re right that the Port of Ehas is the best port in the Thirteen—but Ehas is kind of in the wrong direction.”
Rhy sat back in his chair, kicking out his long legs and lacing his hands behind his neck. Uh-oh. The more relaxed Rhy looked, the more dangerous he was. His eyes glinted with predatory light as he studied Astar. “Why,” he asked softly, “were we tasked to do this work that meant nothing?”
The Golden Gryphon and the Bear Prince: An Epic Fantasy Romance (Heirs of Magic Book 1) Page 4