The Fate of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  To my utter lack of surprise, Harlan sat nearby, shifting markers around a new map—possibly a schematic of a naval battle—and making running calculations down the side.

  Ursula glanced up from what she was writing, Marskal clearly waiting to take it. She gave me an apologetic grimace. “Hope you don’t mind that I took over this space. It seemed like the logical choice—central, and where we’d be unlikely to bother anyone actually trying to sleep.”

  I waved that away and sat nearby, not in the queen’s chair. “It’s fine. It is the logical choice.”

  She sat back and studied me. “How did it go? Successfully, according to early reports, but you look tired.”

  “One day people will stop telling me I look tired,” I replied wryly.

  “Better than people saying you look dead,” Dafne commented, not looking up from what she was reading.

  “Thanks for that.” I turned my attention back to Ursula. “It went according to plan, so far as I can tell.” I’d spent a bit of time in the Heart once I returned to my body. First I’d made contact with Jepp, both of us keeping it brief, to verify that all was well with the fleet. Then I’d checked the barrier, confirming that it had anchored into its new position—we did not need it to start drifting—and purging the former hole of the Deyrr taint. It came clean fairly easily. It would take some work yet, but already I felt the relief of not having that infected wound plaguing my mind.

  I’d also taken the time to cool my rage. Oh, I still wanted to rend that perversion of a priestess limb from limb, but I finally felt I could plot her demise with cool resolve—rather than feeling like I wanted to drink her blood.

  “It went to plan according to our data too,” Dafne replied. “Reports from our affected islands indicate that the barrier moved, then fixed at precisely the predicted location.” She finally looked up at me with raised brows. “Well done, Sorceress Andromeda.”

  “I echo that,” Ursula said. “Anything more you can tell us?”

  “Jepp says that the pull back went well—they were still accounting for everyone, but they think none collided with the barrier—and Nakoa’s storm was beginning to calm.”

  “Yes, Nakoa says it should blow itself out before dawn.” Ursula finished her missive as she spoke, sealed it, and handed it to Marskal.

  He gave her the Hawks’ salute, then glanced at me. “We’ll be ready later today to head out on our mission, Your Highness,” he said.

  “Won’t Zynda need to rest after all of this flying back and forth?”

  His mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “She says dragons are tireless. They also breathe flame, so I’m not arguing with her.”

  I smiled back. “An excellent point. I should be ready with my end of the plan.” He bowed to me and left, and I turned back to Ursula. “Is that where Nakoa is—still managing the storm?”

  “Yes,” Dafne answered. “He’s out on your favored breakwater. Another invasion of your space we hope you don’t mind.”

  “I told him where it was,” Ursula put in, “as he’d asked for a quiet place where he could concentrate without being bothered.”

  I did feel a little invaded, but that had also been a logical choice, so I nodded. “Any reports on damages from the barrier moving or the resulting magic storms?”

  They exchanged glances. “Nothing of grave import,” Ursula said, shifting her gaze as another staymach nightjar flew in with a missive, dropping it in front of her.

  The bird came to me then, clucking with pleasure and conveying images of storm-tossed seas and magic-streaked skies. I stroked it, thanking it for its hard work. Clearly there had been damage and casualties, but I wouldn’t press for details. We’d known that would be the price—and we’d be paying heavier prices in the days to come. Still, I felt like I had years ago, trapped inside the fortress of Windroven castle while people died outside the walls.

  “Don’t look like that,” Ursula ordered. “You did what you had to do, and you executed it perfectly.”

  “I know that. And don’t pretend you wouldn’t feel the same.”

  She raked a hand through her hair. “I already feel the same. And it’s only going to get worse, and before much longer.”

  I nodded, then sighed. “How soon do you want to engage the Dasnarian navy?”

  Ursula glanced at Harlan, who looked up, face calm and resolute. He tapped a blunt finger on a set of calculations. “Ideally—depending on you—we’d like to open a hole for the initial battles by midday tomorrow. Er, today. We don’t want them to have time to assimilate the barrier change and alter their strategy. If all goes as planned, we’ll keep supplementing our side with fresh ships over the next several days. We already began sending our ships to the barrier, and we’d like to send another wave on the dawn tide in a few hours.”

  So soon, but it made sense.

  “I wanted to wait to check that you’d be ready to do this,” Ursula said, turning that penetrating gaze on me again. “That’s why we only sent some of the fleet so far.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I answered immediately.

  “Don’t answer too fast,” Ursula warned. “This is going to be a sustained effort, which I expect will be draining for you. If you need a day to rest then—”

  “I don’t.” Dragons are tireless. “I only seem tired at the moment because I’ve been awake all night. Using the Heart and the Star made moving the barrier relatively easy. Monitoring that portal won’t require much from me.” Not entirely true, but here I could lie with abandon.

  Except I couldn’t fool Ursula, who narrowed her eyes, the color steely. “Once we engage, we likely won’t be able to back off,” she said.

  “I can always seal the barrier again. Give our side a breather.” And myself.

  She looked doubtful. “Maybe. But since we plan to execute the n’Andana plot simultaneously, won’t you need all your strength for that?”

  I raised my brows at Ursula, uncertain if she’d informed Dafne of our plan to strike at the high priestess.

  “Dafne knows. I filled her in on everything,” Ursula replied. “That’s going to require a great deal of you—both timing and sorcery.”

  “I’m laying the groundwork for the effort, and it will be a balancing act to do both, yes, but taking her out will be less a blast of power than a precision strike.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Isn’t it your job—to push us to our limits, and beyond?” I asked coolly. “After all, it’s necessary.”

  She sat back in her chair, assessing me. “Point taken,” she said, dipping her chin to acknowledge she recognized her own words that I’d thrown back at her. “But it’s also my job to make sure I don’t squander our resources through careless disposition.” She held my gaze, making it clear she’d deliberately chosen to treat me as a soldier, not her sister.

  “I know what I’m doing,” I replied. “This is the timing we have to work with. Every day, every hour that passes plays into her favor with whatever she has planned.”

  “I agree.” She made a note on a checklist. “As an additional argument to move quickly—as if we needed another—we received an official message from Hestar, regarding my marriage.”

  “Our marriage,” Harlan inserted quietly.

  “As anticipated,” she continued without pause, “he is angry and refused to acknowledge Harlan as his brother.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Harlan, who shook it off.

  “I was not eager to claim him as brother, so it’s something of a relief,” he replied. “Think of the excruciating family dinners.”

  Ursula threw him an unamused look. I tried to smile at his joke, but the deep sadness in him sapped the effort. A keen grief there, and not for his brother Hestar. For his sisters? No, for a particular sister, decorated lavishly with diamonds and pearls, her ivory blond hair trailing to the floor. A familiar face…

  “What do you see in my mind, Sorceress?” Harlan asked quietly.

&nbs
p; “I apologize,” I replied quickly. “Sometimes the thoughts come to me. I won’t invade your privacy further. Please continue, Ursula.”

  She didn’t right away, looking between us. Deciding something, she went back to business. “The result, unfortunately, is that Hestar is calling in all the empire’s forces to send against us, to smash us like a particularly displeasing insect, I believe was the translation.”

  Harlan nodded. “A festilt, a parasite in Dasnaria that is much reviled.”

  “I’d take that as the bluster it sounds to be,” Ursula said, nodding to Dafne, “except that we’ve also heard from Akamai, and through him, Inga and Helva.”

  Dafne extracted a scroll written on in an elegant script, giving me a concerned look. “They also mention Hestar’s rage. More important, there’s a cloaked warning that the Dasnarians may have a way to compromise the barrier. There are hints that Hestar, deprived of an alliance, will seek help elsewhere, at the peril of his soul.”

  “Then there is certainly no question,” I said, “that we continue with the plan to act on both fronts. If anything, we have more reason to handle the two simultaneously. I’ll keep a close watch on the barrier. Hestar must be counting on Deyrr to do the compromising. Though it could be that this is old information, that they’re still relying on that Deyrr incursion, but I won’t assume.”

  “Yet another responsibility for you,” Ursula noted.

  “Another facet of the same one. I’m aware of what I’ll be fielding on multiple fronts. I don’t understand why we’re revisiting this discussion.” I was tired of talking about it, tired of all of it. I wanted it over and the high priestess banished from the world.

  “Because you will bear the brunt of confronting multiple enemies at one time.” Ursula tapped a scroll on the table in an impatient rhythm that gave lie to her carefully parsed words.

  “One enemy,” I corrected. “This is all her. The rest are just her tools.”

  “I suppose that could be true, but—listen to me, Andi—don’t let this become a personal vendetta.”

  I laughed, and it came out cracked. “Why not? That’s what this is: a very personal battle that happens to have a massive war with worldwide complications attached. Speaking of which,” I continued over her as she began to argue, “I’m not waiting any longer. I’m going to rid Rayfe of Deyrr’s control.” I threw that out there like a gauntlet in an old tale. A challenge, not a request for permission.

  “No.” She leveled a steely stare on me. “Not yet,”

  Magic lifted my hair, stirring it around my shoulders, bared by the simple shift I wore. As the righteous anger filled me, I watched the caution light in Ursula’s eyes, Harlan’s posture going wary. Little Salena, sensitive to magical shifts already, wailed and Dafne shushed her.

  “You don’t command me,” I said softly.

  A muscle in Ursula’s jaw flexed, then she held up her palms. “You’re right. I don’t.” She smiled, wry, rare exhaustion showing through. “Believe me, I’m very well aware that this is your war, that our mother planned it this way. But you can’t do this alone. I’m only saying what you know is true.”

  I sagged, releasing the magic, letting it settle back into my personal reserves. “I know.”

  All three of them relaxed, and I wished I could find it in myself to be sorry that I’d frightened them. They weren’t the ones who deserved my fury.

  “Only one more day,” Ursula urged. “Just long enough to make sure our plans remain a surprise. Then what you and Rayfe have suffered will at least be redeemed by what we gain.” She slid a goblet over to me. “Have a little wine. It’s yours, after all, and an excellent vintage. Then go sleep a few hours.”

  I gazed back at her, bemused. “Is that an order, Your Fucking Majesty?”

  “In this case, yes.” She tried a smile, though it faded quickly. “Hatred and anger can tear you apart, little sister.”

  I drank from the goblet, the rich wine a welcome taste, then eyed Ursula over the rim. “I disagree. My hatred and anger will tear them apart. I’ll worry about the state of my soul after we win.” And my heart.

  She smiled in truth. “That’s my girl. Now get some rest.”

  “I could sleep,” I admitted. If Rayfe hadn’t returned to our chambers, ready for another battle. Or worse, if he wasn’t there because the high priestess had led him to someone else’s bed. The prospect made my gut curl with dread. “Where is Rayfe—does he know yet about the barrier shift?”

  “According the Hawks I have watching him, he’s sleeping,” Ursula said, keeping her voice very neutral.

  “The effects of the barrier shift haven’t been felt here yet,” Dafne said, “if we feel them at all. All the reports so far have come from where the barrier meets ground or water. Recall that when you three initially expanded the barrier, no one in Annfwn noticed anything—it was only where the barrier scraped over this reality that it caused friction.”

  I nodded. “Friction” was such a gentle euphemism for the damage it caused. If I did have to execute my last resort, I’d have to make sure the barrier remained as permeable as possible while still containing magic. If I could do that. A headache for another day. I had another swallow of wine and pushed the goblet back to Ursula.

  “All right—I’ll sleep a few hours, then meet you all back here for breakfast.” I stood, then arched my back against the ache, the baby kicking a little in protest or approval, I wasn’t sure which. Dafne gave me a sympathetic grimace as she rocked Salena, peacefully sleeping again.

  “On that note,” Harlan said, standing and tugging Ursula to her feet, “we should get a few hours sleep, too.”

  “I’ll stay here and field messages—and I’ll wake you if anything critical occurs,” Dafne said.

  “Don’t you need sleep too?” Ursula sounded dubious.

  “I slept all afternoon and part of the evening,” she replied, looking bright eyed indeed. “And if you want these ships out on the morning tide, I need to reconcile some of these supply redistributions. It will only take a bit longer. Plus, I’d like to wait up for Nakoa.” A soft, secret smile crossed her lips.

  I smiled at her, trying to make it genuine and hoping I didn’t reveal the sour pang I felt. How lovely would it be to look forward to seeing my own husband, to seek out Rayfe, and to be certain of a warm reception. I’d once had that, even in the beginning when I refused him at every turn, and I hadn’t realized how much it had meant to me. She is doing this to you on purpose, so you’ll feel alone, isolated, and in despair, I reminded myself.

  Ursula put a hand on my arm, squeezing a little. “You’ll purge him of the taint and everything will be good again,” she reassured me, as always discerning just a little too much.

  I kept my smile frozen in place and nodded. Even if—no, when—I purged Rayfe of the high priestess’s control, even if we both survived this war, the fractures in our marriage would remain. After all we’d done to hurt each other, I wondered if the rifts between us could ever be truly mended.

  And if not, what I’d do then.

  What do you owe them besides duty to a mother you barely remember? You could live a life that you choose.

  I shook off that haunting suggestion. Time enough to decide what I’d do after we survived.

  If I had anything left of my heart and soul.

  ~ 16 ~

  I struggled out of a deep sleep that churned with the cries of people injured and dying, of angry magic raining fire, and ships capsizing as the barrier ground over them, sea monsters feasting on the drowning sailors and passengers.

  And me, laughing maniacally, blood dripping from my hands.

  “Good morning, Andromeda.” Rayfe’s icy voice brought me fully awake.

  Fully dressed, he stood next to the bed. He wore his formal black, flowing and severe at once, his equally dark and glossy hair loose, his expression remote. Beautiful and unreachable.

  And so very, brutally angry.

  Groaning mentally, I sat up, pushing my ha
ir back and rubbing my hands over my face, the covers falling away. The sun had barely risen, still long away from clearing the cliff rim, and the room remained cool from the night breezes, my nipples crinkling in response. Rayfe’s blue eyes flashed hot as they ran over my nakedness. Then cooled as he averted his gaze, staring stonily past me instead.

  “So,” he said. Then took a breath. “You moved the barrier last night.”

  “Yes.” I searched for something else to say and came up empty.

  “Imagine my surprise when I was informed of something my own wife—my co-ruler—hadn’t seen fit to mention.”

  “Rayfe, I—”

  “Something,” he continued remorselessly, “that you knew you planned to do when you rejected me last night.”

  “I didn’t reject you. I said that—”

  “That you had to consult with Ursula. Yes, I recall clearly how you lied to my face.” His voice remained cuttingly cold, but emotion destabilized it. Fury, betrayal, grief.

  “I did consult with Ursula,” I protested weakly. “It wasn’t a lie.”

  He laughed sounding bitter, wrapping his fingers into fists at his side. “You deliberately misled me, to keep me from knowing what you were about. Didn’t you? At least respect me enough to admit that.”

  I had no excuse, no ready soothing lies to offer. “Yes, I did.”

  His remote expression thawed into bewildered hurt, and he stared at me like he didn’t know me. “Why?” he asked starkly.

  “I…” I had no answer. So easy to be angry at Ursula, to pin the guilt on her, but I’d been the one to do this to him.

  “I know I’ve been distant,” he continued. “I admitted to that last night. And that I’d made mistakes, but I tried to make up for that, to mend things. Now it seems I’m the only one trying here. I don’t understand how you could treat our marriage—and me—with such utter disregard.”

  “I didn’t do that, I—”