by Liam Reese
“So am I,” said Irae, suppressing an unladylike shrug. “I hope no one judges me on it.”
“Of course not,” said her advisor, and she suspected by the warmth in his voice that he was hiding a smile.
“Do you suppose he rode in an open carriage to come here, or is that the fashion in hairstyles in Elgodon these days?”
“I’d advise seeking information from someone a bit younger on that,” said Sir Merundi, who kept his thinning hair short enough to not have to bother with it at all. “I’m always at least ten years behind in these things.”
Irae turned to the next lord and lady with a genuine smile.
All in all, things went quite smoothly. There were no demonstrations, there were no murmurers that she heard of, and as she called her captain of the guard to her for a briefing immediately after she had dispensed at last with the line, there were no disturbances reported, either.
Clement was a grizzled ex-soldier with truly impressive sideburns and mildly wounded-looking blue eyes. He made a perfunctory bow to her, not sweeping as low as she would possibly have liked, but still respectful. She suspected that he had a wooden leg, and perhaps that was the reason for his stiffness.
“Reasonably quiet, Your Majesty,” he said, almost as though he were grumbling about the situation. “A few drunkards in the taverns, but that’s only to be expected on a holiday such as today. Any excuse for a roustabout. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be speaking of such things to you.”
“Nonsense. I know all about roustabouts. That’s all well and good, and likely nothing to be concerned with — it’s other things I worry about. Are the people happy that they have a new queen?”
“My lady, I’m a guard, not a politician,” said Clement. “I don’t know when people are happy. I only know when they’re quiet or not quiet. That’s the extent of it, from my view.”
“I see. Well. Please keep an ear out,” she implored him. “I realize there are relatively few of you, and you are new at your post, but so am I, you know.”
He snorted a little. “New at my post. Old at my post, is what you should say — dragged out of retirement — but still as sharp as I ever was. Never you fear, my lady. I’ll do right by you and keep my ear to the ground. Karyl’d have my hide if I ever did anything else than my best for you.”
She smiled at him, and she knew it was a sad smile — she couldn’t help it — but he
didn’t seem to mind, or indeed even notice.
“Karyl always spoke very highly of you,” she said. “He told me once that you taught him everything he knew.”
“Hah, that’s a slander and a blasphemy,” muttered Clement, but he seemed rather pleased with it all the same. “Regardless of what that young pup thought of me, or didn’t, I know my duty, and I always have done. Loyalty to the throne is like loyalty to my mother. You couldn’t ask more than that.”
“I would not,” she assured him, and stood at last from her seat on the throne. “I suppose we’d better go into the banquet now. Everyone will be waiting on us.”
“On you, to be sure, Your Majesty.”
“Today is a day for everyone,” said Irae. “Today, everyone should be celebrated.”
She was going to take his arm, but he did not offer it.
The banquet was something truly splendorous to behold: The Great Hall full of long trestle tables, each one surrounded by guests in all sorts of finery, both exotic and domestic. Every available surface was covered to overflowing with rich dishes and meats and flagons of wines and cordials and ciders. They fairly groaned under the weight of the foods and drink and the pressure of the elbows that were planted on them as the guests leaned half across them to speak to their neighbors or reach for another dish. The kitchen and serving staff had evidently not been too badly impacted by the shakeup in regime; unlike the guard, and the advisors, which were still in a state of flux. Or, as Irae preferred to call it, controlled chaos.
Nothing about re-taking her rightful place on the throne had been quite as simple as she would have wished.
She wasn’t even able to make sure that Lully and Graic, let alone Thorn and Ruben, were seated at the high table with her. Graic she could see, holding a court all of her own on a table not too far away. But the rest of them were faces lost in the crowd, and in the meantime, she had to be a queen — she had to be regal and calm and serene, although she was almost entirely fed up with being surrounded by people at this point and was quite ready to be done and alone in her chambers. Or, at least, to escape outside and sit in the woods somewhere with Thorn and the rest of them, huddled around a campfire —
“Your Majesty, are you quite all right?” Sir Merundi again. He was so very helpful that sometimes she wanted to put a hand on his face and push.
“I’m fine, of course,” she said. “Perhaps a tad tired.”
“It has been a busy day for you.” He nodded sympathetically.
“It’s been a busy several months!”
“Indeed. And there are many more to come. Perhaps retiring to your bed after your
dinner is the best cure for your ills.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. He sent a smile at her, a vague and impersonal smile that didn’t quite reach his blue-gray eyes, kind though they were, and turned back to his own plate. She looked down at her own, at the roasted pheasant, at the roasted potatoes and carrots, at the roasted roast, and pushed down her sudden, absurd longing for the campfire, for hardtack, for easy companionship. She set to pondering what her next steps were, for the good of the country and for the cementing of her own reign.
The rest of dinner passed in rather a blur, as her brain was somewhat more pleasantly occupied, and before she knew it the pudding had been passed and disposed of, and she was free to set the example for the rest of her people by leaving the table and retiring to her rooms. She did so without hesitation, though there were a handful of bards and minstrels setting up on the dais.
As she stood up, Sir Merundi stood with her, and began to clap his hands. The applause spread throughout the tables, and before too long the entire room rang with it to the rafters. Tired as she was, she stood a moment and couldn’t help but smile on all of them. Yes, it was worth it, the long months of fear and uncertainty. Yes, she would do it again.
For this. For all of them. For her people and her kingdom and her throne.
She swept them a low curtsey, head lowered, then stood again and lifted her hand in a wave as she moved away from the table. The sound of applause followed her from the Great Hall and to the stairs. She cast a glance over her shoulder to ascertain that no one was following her and nearly ran into the shadowy figure who lurked on the landing.
Two nearly identical shrieks echoed through the air. She fell back against the banister, a hand at her throat.
“Why do you do that sort of thing?” she gasped. “Can’t you announce yourself somehow?”
Thorn shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “‘M sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t exactly have a bunch of pages going around with trumpets to let people know where I’m at at all times.”
She frowned at him. “No more do I.”
“Something like it.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“I didn’t think you were going to see me,” he said, somewhat petulantly. “So, I thought I’d wait near your rooms, but I got chased off by some maid or other.”
Irae raised her eyebrows. “Chased off? You?”
“She had a broom,” said Thorn. “Anyway, I haven’t seen you all day.” He seemed to shake off his funk, suddenly, and turned a surprisingly bright beam of a smile on her. His smiles were rare, and especially one filled with so much enthusiasm, and she couldn’t help but respond with a smile of her own. Thorn was not handsome — the term was perhaps unhandsome, as though it were a box that could have been checked but had not been — but his narrow, finely planed face had an engaging quality about it that she definitely liked.
“Well,” she said, “I�
��ve been a bit busy.”
“Yes, I know.” He nodded at her crown, and his long black hair fell in his eyes. “It’s very shiny.”
She touched it absently. “Thank you.”
“Suits you.”
Irae looked away from him, trying to will away an insistent blush. Why did she suddenly have nothing to say to him? He had followed her and fought for her, though he had no stake in any future for the country — he had done so much for her. So why was it so hard to look him in the eye all of a sudden?
She had only known him a very short time, in the scheme of things, but she had never felt so distant from him since the time that she first met him in the middle of the woods.
“I like your golden robe,” he said after a moment. “It looks very shiny from a distance.” He squinted at it. “Even shinier close-up, I suppose.”
She hitched it up and smiled at him. “It’s going to be the death of me one day, from tripping over it.”
“Oh, I hope not,” he said seriously.
“What have you been doing with yourself all day?”
“Watching. Watching from afar while you are anointed in glory, while the crowd fawns at your feet. And eating things, like meat on a stick, from a tray.”
“I see. A valuable use of your time. And how is my —” She stopped and thought about it for a second. “— goat?”
“Your goat is fine,” he said levelly. “Actually, more than fine. He is being kept in my quarters, and he has eaten three of my blankets already. I don’t envy the maid who is sent to clean up after him.”
“Have you seen the others?”
“The others, meaning Ruben and Lully? Ruben is even now in the Great Hall, preparing
to perform a song in your honor. A song which he has written, I believe, which makes it that much worse.”
“Oh dear,” she said, blanching a little. “Don’t — don’t tell him I missed it, will you? He’ll be so upset.”
“I won’t. I may not have the best grasp on what is socially acceptable and what isn’t, but I hope I know better than to crush a man’s spirits like that. Lully, you know, has been serving at the table all evening.”
“What? I thought she was placed at one of the lower tables!”
“Perhaps she would have been, had she not been a servant,” said Thorn, shrugging.
“She isn’t just a servant! She helped me — you know it, Thorn. You were there. We would have had no army to help us gain the castle if she had not gone to recruit them. I honored her!”
Thorn yawned a little, but she thought it seemed a bit affected. “Well, honor counts for little among men, these days. And possibly even less among kitchen maids. I don’t think she’s unhappy, if that makes a difference to you—”
“Lully? Sent back to serving after all she’s done for me? She’s bound to be furious!” Irae sighed and shook her head. “I will have to see to it, I suppose. Can you take a message to Sir Merundi for me and ask him that she is let off for the rest of the evening? And that Graic is settled well, she has an attendant now, I believe. I hope they haven’t called her off to serve. And don’t let on to Ruben, I pray you. And —” She had turned away from him to head back up the stairs, feeling her tiredness weigh heavily on her. She stopped now and turned back to him. “And where are you going? Why did you need to speak with me?”
His smile had faltered moments before, but it appeared now, just as a ghost of itself, and
looked strangely hopeful.
“I’m going into town,” he said, “as much as I would rather avoid it. I’m going in to speak with Lisca’s father, and I wondered if you would keep me in mind, should I — disappear suddenly, and not ever be found.”
“Oh.” She stepped toward him again. “Batrek Felcin won’t murder you, Thorn. He is a
peaceable man, or he wouldn’t be allowed to remain in Balfour. Even as loyal as he had been to my uncle, he has given no further trouble to my men.”
“Peaceable he may be, but no one has ever tested him to quite the extent of telling him that his only daughter has been turned into a fox,” said Thorn.
“If you’re in fear for your life, let me go to Clement, my new captain of the guard. He will send someone with you. An honor guard, to protect you against angry fathers.” She tried another smile on him, but she was well aware that it only presented itself half-heartedly.
Thorn shook his head. “It’s a thing that I need to do myself. I’m responsible for it. I have to own up. And — it’s been weeks, now, that he must have been wondering what happened to her. It’s time to set his mind at ease and let him know that I’m doing all I can.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “If that is what you feel you must do.”
“It is.”
“Very well, then. Make sure you let him know that it was at my orders that you Forged her. And that it was a question of loyalty and duty.”
Loyalty and duty and the orders of the queen — the motivations behind changing a normal human girl into another creature entirely. Thorn bowed his head but did not make any promises. She watched him go back down the steps and felt compelled to call to him once more.
“Thorn!”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Will you — tell me how it goes? Don’t just run away. Come back to me before you go anywhere.”
A brief nod was her answer, and his eyes flickered up to meet hers, quickly, creased in a hidden smile, before he was gone again, melting into the shadows of the hall below.
She could picture what he was going to — a noble residence, intimidating guards and footmen, a frantic, worried father. Thorn was quite capable of talking himself out of things, she thought, but that didn’t mean that he was immune to dangerous situations. Quite the contrary, in fact. He seemed to attract, or perhaps create, them.
And after the scene with the frantic, worried father?
Another scene awaited him. The woods. A small fox with strange orange-colored fur, waiting quiescently for him to come to her and do his best to transform her back into the young woman she truly was. The young woman who, not so long ago, had fought against Irae herself, out of loyalty to the traitorous December King.
She shook off the vision of what might have been, and turned to finish the long, exhausting slog up the stairs.
It was only after she had gained the top of them at last that she realized it had probably entirely slipped Thorn’s mind to take her message to Sir Merundi.
“Oh, hells,” she said, tiredly, and turned around again.
2
Interview with a Noble
Castle Balfour was ancient. Poised on a hill, surrounded by a well-maintained stone wall that sloped down to the bay to the west, it was in a favored position for seeing any coming ambush, and keeping itself defended. The city that surrounded it, protected inside the wall, was nearly as ancient as the castle itself. Some of the oldest homes and shops in the kingdom were to be found there, having been kept intact by the vigilance of the reagents within the castle that loomed over everything. Balfour had the largest market in all of Ainsea; on any given day, dozens of languages and dialects could be heard hawking wares or haggling over prices. The city was hustling, bustling, loud, colorful, and never seemed to sleep.
The city was, in a word, terrifying.
Thorn had spent very little time in anything much larger than what would be termed a village; a group of people numbering higher than three was far beyond his comfort zone, and even then, he would rather have been in charge of choosing the three. Here there was no such comfort; here he had no control.
Here, even though he had been honored by the new Queen herself, he still caught suspicious glances being thrown his way. So, he pulled the hood of his new cloak up over his ears, against the chilling winds and chillier looks.
Batrek Felcin had not attended the banquet in honor of the new regent.
Perhaps that was only to be expected; he had campaigned hard to cement the December King’s hold on the throne and had been one of the
more loyal of the nobles, which were not a bunch that were renowned for staying true, apparently. Now, of course, there was no going back. Queen Irae was in place, and King Lev had disappeared. But that didn’t mean he had to like it, of course.
Thorn was of the indignant opinion that he should have to like it, but Irae had been very clear on the subject. Anyone who truly had a dissenting opinion on the current regency was allowed to hold any opinion they liked, provided that it did not interfere with Queen Irae’s ability to carry out the responsibilities she held as queen, and provided that it didn’t infringe on anyone else’s rights or peace.
“But that’s ridiculous,” Thorn had said. “Everyone knows now that your uncle was a traitor, and those who continue to align themselves with him are just as bad! How can you just let them continue on believing that they are in the right?”
“I can do it because I am not my father, and I am not my uncle,” Irae had told him, with the quietly confident serenity with which she tended to end all arguments, these days, now that she was on the throne again. That quietly confident serenity which, frankly, drove Thorn crazy, since he was never anywhere near to being a match for it. “I don’t need everyone to agree with me, and I’m certainly not going to descend to the level of threatening them into saying that they do. People are going to believe what they want to believe, regardless of what the fact of the matter is. I can’t chain up their minds, can I?”
“You can’t chain them,” Thorn had to admit, “but you can perhaps change them.”
“And that is what I intend to do,” she told him smoothly. “But it will take some time, and each must move at their own pace. They’ll come around in the end, if they truly want what is best for Ainsea. They’ll see for themselves whether I make things better or not, and whether or not I truly am a queen.”
Thorn didn’t think that it was her being a queen that was in doubt; rather, there had clearly been a contingent of nobles and others who were quite set on Irae never returning alive to Balfour, and the idea that some of them might still be out there, biding their time and waiting for the right opportunity, made him wake up in cold sweats some nights. It hadn’t been long since they had retaken the throne — not more than three weeks, now that he thought about it — and it seemed that every day was just one step closer to a looming disaster.