“Maybe I will,” she said, and stood. “I hope you aren’t offended if I no longer address you as prince. You are now just Kendryk Bernotas and not entitled to any special treatment.” She walked to the door and called into the corridor. A guard came. “Take Master Bernotas to the dungeon.”
She turned to Kendryk once more. “I hope you enjoyed the sunshine today. You will never see it again.”
Arryk
If Arryk hadn’t felt like a king until now, that changed with the weight of the long fur cloak with its twelve-foot train on his shoulders, the heavy jewel-studded crown pushing down onto his head, and the ancient forked scepter of the Roussays in his right hand. By the time the old Maximus pronounced him sovereign over the lands of Old Norovaea and all of the Northern Sea, and he saw the faces of everyone in the temple gazing at him reverently, he thought he might be up to the task.
That feeling didn’t survive the day. As he had feared, Arryk found he couldn’t do without Norvel Classen. In fact, there was no one suitable in the entire country to replace him.
It had never occurred to Arryk that he should cultivate political in addition to military advisers. Everyone at court worked for Classen, or at least sympathized with him. Arryk’s friends and supporters were young military officers with no political clout or experience.
“I’ll be honest,” Arryk said. He sat at his father’s desk in his father’s study the day after the coronation, going over papers with Classen. “I wanted to replace you, but I don’t know how I can.”
“You must do so before long,” Classen said. He’d been uncommonly kind and patient, showing Arryk what went into ruling. It was clear that the king had left his heir woefully unprepared to step into his shoes, though it was true Arryk had shown little interest in being guided. It occurred to him that Gwynneth would have relished this and excelled at it. Not only did Arryk not understand much of administrative matters, they also bored him to tears. And now that he’d spent a few days at a desk, he was even more eager to set out for Kronland.
“Can you help me find someone?” Arryk asked. “Although you are welcome to stay on a while, if you don’t mind.”
“That depends,” Classen said. He looked like he’d lost several stone in the past few days and it didn’t suit him. “Do you still insist on this ill-advised action in Kronland?”
“I do.”
“Then I cannot in good conscience stay on.”
“Why not? You need do nothing on that score. I just need someone to manage things here. I’d hoped Aksel might want to, but he has no interest.”
“And very little knowledge. No, it’s better he stay in his laboratory for now, though it would benefit us all if he started to take an interest in politics.”
“I don’t even know what he does in his laboratory.”
“Develops high explosives, last I heard.”
“In his rooms? Right here in the palace?” Arryk thought of how close they were to his own.
“Where else? Don’t worry; he’s working with small amounts so will only blow himself up if something goes wrong.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“He’s careful. He’s safer in there than on campaign in Kronland.”
“I don’t think we’ll be there long. I’ll help my sister and come back right away.”
“It never works out as easily as you think. You can expect to be there many months and lose many soldiers. But I can’t convince you. Until you have been at war you can’t know.”
“Have you been at war?”
“Yes, long ago.” Classen nodded. “For a short time. It was enough.”
“I must go, no matter what.”
“I see.” Classen sighed heavily. “Then you leave me no choice. For the good of the country, I’ll take care of things while you’re gone and look for my replacement. I’m afraid I won’t find anyone before you insist on leaving.”
“Thank you,” Arryk said. “I’m very grateful and I won’t forget this.” When he returned from Kronland, he’d see that Classen was richly rewarded for his service and then he could retire. One of the best things about being king was the ability to dole out favors. Arryk was already making sure that his closest friends and their families were well-provided-for. He needed to work especially hard now to develop his own loyal following.
With domestic matters settled for the time being, Arryk prepared his ships and soldiers. He planned to land his entire force on the beaches of Helvundala in just a few weeks’ time.
Gwynneth
So many weeks had gone by unchanged that it was almost a pleasant surprise to spot a messenger bearing a white flag. Almost. Gwynneth was certain no message would bring good news for her.
“Shall we receive it, Your Grace?” Merton asked. They stood on the castle walls, looking down over the still-raised drawbridge.
“Why not? I doubt it’s anything we want to know, but that doesn’t matter.” Neither one said it, but one of the few events meriting a message was Kendryk’s death. Gwynneth tried to prepare herself. Whatever the news, she couldn’t fall apart in front of everyone.
“Do you suppose it’s a trap?” Merton looked concerned.
Gwynneth leaned over the parapet, pulling her cloak close as the wind whipped around her. She saw one horseman. “We have a clear view in all directions. No one else is coming. Take the message and ask if a reply is needed. If so, he can come back later. Post everyone we have at the gate in case he tries something.”
Merton soon returned with a small pouch in his hand. “No reply needed,” he said, looking pale. He was probably as worried as she was about its contents.
No point in keeping them both in suspense. She opened the pouch, her heart in her mouth, her stiff cold fingers fumbling with the Imperial seal. The letter inside was in Teodora’s own handwriting. Gwynneth read it quickly, relief washing over her in such a powerful wave she had to lean against the wall. Anger soon followed.
“Prince Kendryk is alive. But the empress has done something outrageous.” Gwynneth handed the letter to Merton.
“Can she do that?” he asked after reading it.
“Not legally. But who’s to stop her? No one is coming to help us, let alone prevent her from anything.” Gwynneth was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I must speak with Edric Maximus,” she said, turning toward the tower.
She hadn’t seen him in some time. This pregnancy, her fourth, left her feeling melancholy and she feared seeing Edric too often would weaken her resolve. He remained concrete evidence of Kendryk’s plight and the easiest way to end it. She didn’t want to be tempted. But she was tempted no longer.
The study door was ajar and she knocked softly before pushing it open.
“Your Grace.” The Maximus stood. “Is all well?”
To her surprise, she found herself weak in the knees and sank into a chair. “There’s been a message from Teodora,” she said, handing it to him.
His face drew into a frown as he read. “This might do it.”
“Do what? This is a disaster, and no one can stop her.”
“No one is stopping her right now.” Edric handed the letter back and came around the desk to sit down across from her. “But that will soon change.”
“I don’t see how. It’s been months and there’s no sign of my brother. If he doesn’t come, who will? I try not to lose hope, but it’s becoming more and more difficult.”
“The waiting is difficult, I agree. I’ve had all-consuming work to keep me distracted but you’ve not been so fortunate.”
“I can’t help but worry about running out of food.”
“That won’t be for awhile, will it?”
“No, not for several months. Some things have spoiled, but we can make it through the spring. After that …”
“Something will happen by then. You must believe it, Princess.”
“I have to, or I couldn’t bear it. But if Arryk hasn’t come by now, he won’t. I don’t know what’s kept him or what has
happened. The empress doesn’t mention defeating him in battle and I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to rub my face in that if she could.”
“Princess, please. Please don’t despair. This letter means the tide is about to turn.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Teodora has overreached herself here. The rest of Kronland won’t stand for it.”
“They’ve stood for it so far.”
“They weren’t directly threatened before. This is different. It’s a clear message from Teodora as to her intentions. This forces the Kronland rulers to choose sides, because if they allow this to stand, all of their rights are in jeopardy.”
“Will they all see it that way?” Gwynneth couldn’t trust the flicker of hope. For once, she wanted Edric to be right.
“I’m sure they will,” he said, his voice firm. “And I have faith that rescue is at hand. If not from your brother than from someone else.”
“Falk or Dahlby, maybe,” she said, even though she didn’t believe it. “They were always the most sympathetic to you and to Kendryk and most jealous of their rights.”
“Can you picture Prince Falk taking this news calmly?”
She almost smiled. “No, I cannot.”
“Neither can I. This forces him to act, and I’m sure the other northerners will feel the same way. The Princesses Kasbirk and Martinek may well join them.”
“Oh, if only,” Gwynneth said. “I suppose this also means that Kendryk is still alive, if she had to formally take Terragand from him. Oh gods.” She put her hands to her mouth as the terrible thought struck her. “I hope he can bear it.”
“He can. The gods will give him the strength he needs. I am convinced he still has an important part to play. I may as well tell you now because I’m so close. By sunset tomorrow, I will have completed my translation of the Scrolls.”
Gwynneth stared at him. She had known he was working on a translation, since Maryna talked of nothing else, but for the first time, she realized what it meant. “All of them? In Olvisyan?”
Edric nodded and looked down at his ink-stained fingers.
“Well,” Gwynneth said. “You’ve managed to impress me.”
“That in itself is an accomplishment.” Edric cracked a smile. “I didn’t know if you would care.”
“I do,” Gwynneth said, surprised that she did. “In fact, I should very much like to read them.”
“You would? Now I’m truly surprised.”
“It’s time I saw what all the fuss is about.”
Arryk
“Why did you do that?” Larisa asked. She was almost in tears. Arryk had never seen her so distraught.
“I thought you’d like it.” This was a bad time for a spat. He was overseeing the embarkation of his troops and trying to keep track of what was happening in the chaos on the docks.
“Like it? Why in the world would I want to be a duchess?”
“Would you rather be a princess? I’m not sure if I can manage that. Queen I can, probably,” He grinned at her, hoping to get a smile. He wasn’t supposed to marry a commoner, but he’d do it if that was what she wanted.
“Stop it.” She scowled. “You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t want a title from you.”
“Why not? It’s no problem for me, now that I’m king.”
“You really don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?” A rearing horse not keen on going up the gangplank distracted him.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, yes,” he said, turning his back on the horse. “Now, please tell me why you’re unhappy.”
“I don’t want anything to change between us, just because you’re king now. I’ve told you before, I don’t want titles or money or anything else like that from you.”
“You’ve said that, but surely you don’t mean it. You’re rich now, and have one of the highest positions in the land.” Arryk’s father had had mistresses; often more than one at a time. The king had given them gifts—splendid ones like mansions, estates and jewels. He’d thought to do better by giving Larisa a title.
“Highest paid whore, more like,” she said, her lips in a white line.
“You can’t be serious. No one would …” Even as he said it, he realized that was exactly what everyone would think. In one night, Larisa had gone from being an anonymous girl who sneaked into his bed to being the king’s mistress. He had hoped to improve her life, but maybe he’d been wrong. For the hundredth time, he wished he had a quicker mind, or someone in possession of one to advise him on these matters.
“See? Slow as you are, Your Highness,” she said in a mocking tone, “you must realize how it looks. But it’s more than that. It’s that I don’t want anything from you. I just want you. Nothing else.” She stood in front of him, her eyes wide and angry.
He stared back, uncomprehending.
She tossed her head, made an indignant noise and started to walk away.
“Wait!” he shouted, grabbing her arm. He suddenly realized what she had said. “Are you saying you like me, and not just because I’m king?” He had always been in love with her, but assumed she was only with him because of his position.
She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I seem to have fallen in love with you. I’m sure I’ll regret it.”
As her words sunk in, warmth spread through him. Suddenly, there was no icy wind, no spray blowing in from the sea, no ten thousand soldiers and horses and ships surrounding them. “What?” was all he managed after a long moment of silence.
“You heard what I said.” Her eyes were flashing now, no longer tearful.
He swallowed hard. “You won’t regret it. I swear it. And if you like, I’ll undo the duchess thing, if I can.” He doubted it was possible, but for her, he’d find a way.
“All right,” she said, a smile reaching her lips, though she quickly looked stern again. “Please do it as soon as you can, before someone finds out. But first, let’s board this ship and rescue your sister.”
Teodora
“General Barela requests an audience with you, Your Highness,” Brytta said. “If it’s too late, I’ll tell him to come back in the morning.”
“No, I’ll see him. He might have important news.” Teodora hoped her tone was neutral, though she thought she detected a fleeting sly look on Brytta’s pretty face. “I won’t need you any more tonight,” she added.
Teodora had been at her desk for at least twelve hours. She stood up and stretched, wishing she had a moment to let her hair down and change into something less formal. She stopped herself. They hadn’t seen each other in several months and she must not appear overeager.
Teodora pasted a noncommittal smile on her face, though her heart beat so hard she was sure the whole palace could hear. The door opened and he stood before her.
“Your Highness,” he said, with that smile she loved. He bowed, but she crossed the floor to him in a few steps, and he straightened up, taking her hands in his. He raised each of them to his lips before pulling her in close. “I’ve missed you terribly, Your Highness.”
“I wonder.” She pulled back. “You’ve been having all of the fun, while I’ve been stuck here by myself.” She suddenly realized she was starving. “Have you dined?”
“I have,” he said. “I stopped by a friend’s wedding just now.”
It was annoying that he hadn’t come straight to her, but she concealed it. “An important wedding?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. They are unusual in that they seem to be happier than most.”
“How lovely,” she said, her tone making it clear she didn’t care. “You don’t mind if I have a bite?”
“Not at all. I can tell you the news in the meantime.”
“So there is news.” She pulled the bell rope. “Please tell me you caught Count Faris, or killed him.”
“I did not. I apologize.” He waited for her to sit, then took a seat across from her. “Count Faris made it over the Zeelund borde
r before I caught up with him. He had less than three hundred soldiers. I would have pursued, but my queen is in particularly delicate negotiations with Zeelund right now.”
Teodora snorted, realizing too late it was not an inviting or ladylike sound.
“Oh, I know,” he said, flashing a grin. “I work for you, and I am of course in love with you, but she is still my queen. It is a shame. You would be a much better one. You would make Maladena great again.”
To her chagrin, Teodora flushed with pleasure. Perhaps he wouldn’t see in the dim light. She hated how she was unable to take the upper hand with him, as she did with most men. “So, you didn’t catch Faris. Did you find out what he’s up to?”
“Yes, I did. He’s going to all of the bankers, trying to raise money.”
“Will he succeed?”
“I don’t know. The Zeelunders would like to keep me occupied in Kronland as long as possible. That way I cannot torment them in Floradias.”
“You can hardly blame them. I suppose the question is, will they give Faris enough to matter?”
“I hope not,” Barela said. “He is a poor risk, and those bankers are people of business. They will think twice before throwing their money away on a general who has just been so soundly defeated.”
“That is mostly good news.”
“Yes. But there is bad also. While I was on my way back to you, I received word that King Andres of Norovaea finally died.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes. I was already in Arcius, or I might have marched back into Terragand. I hope I did the right thing coming here.”
“You did. Is there any word of what Prince Arryk might do? Though I suppose I should call him king now.”
“Everyone knows Arryk wants to help his sister. But he has no party of his own at court and no understanding of what he must do to rule. It is likely he is being advised by those who worked for his father. They will counsel caution.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 51