Queen's Crown

by Anne Wheeler

  “That’s all it takes for you to do what you’re told? A simple order from a despot?” Thomas laughed. “You really have changed.”

  I glanced up at him, trying to find the boy he’d once been. The one who had climbed apple trees with me before feeding the apples to the neighbor’s horses and skipping home for supper. The one who’d once stood between me and a charging bull. Instead, I found nothing but a hardened expression, the deep lines in the skin of a man who’d traded gentle smiles for frowns and hate.

  “So have you, Thomas.” I glanced around the throne room. Besides Vahl, the duplicitous bastard, there were no other soldiers around, not that their absence comforted me. If they weren’t on Vahl’s side, they were no doubt dead. Thomas had enough of his own men positioned around the edges of the room to have seen to that. “And somehow, even after everything, I’m still surprised you could lower yourself to this.”

  “You always were naïve.” The sword slid away from Laurent and me, but Thomas didn’t sheath it. “What did you think would happen? That you’d marry a king and live happily at Lochfeld forever? Forsake those you grew up with it? Your family?”

  Laurent’s breath caught. My tears fell again, and that time, he managed to wipe just one finger across my jaw.

  “You did, didn’t you?” Thomas chuckled. “Well. Let me tell you how it’ll actually end. King Damir wants to see him executed as a common criminal, devoid of any dignity. Just think of it, Riette. Dying far from Meirdre, his power usurped, away from any battle which might have preserved his honor in death. And you—”

  I tore my gaze from Laurent’s anguished stare and met Thomas’s.

  “You.” He tapped his sword on my shoulder. “I would so dearly love to see your blood spilled besides him, but”—glee sprang into his tone—“I’m told you have a gift that might still be considerably useful.”

  The throne room spun about me once more, but it was a gray haze that had taken over my vision this time. My own terror flowed through me, not a belated enchantment. If I hadn’t already been kneeling, I would have collapsed on the floor from the fear and anger and betrayal that seized me, for it was obvious how Thomas had figured that out. I met Laurent’s gaze, and he nodded, just enough.

  “They were going to—if they found you—” he began. “I had to tell them. Please—please forgive me—”

  “He saved your life, Riette,” Thomas interrupted, “by telling me your secret. Even as he was condemning his own.”

  I leaned my forehead against Laurent’s once more and tried to steady my voice. What I was about to say would earn me my death, but I didn’t want to live anymore. Not without him.

  “So what?” I gripped his hands tighter as I spoke. “I don’t see what that has to do with you, what you think my power will gain you. It protects Meirdre and her sovereign, no other kingdom, no other person.”

  “It certainly didn’t do a satisfactory job this time.” Thomas’s lip curled in a sardonic smile. “But regardless, and fortunately for you, King Damir disagrees with your assessment of your inadequacy. He finds your gift . . . rather fascinating.”

  I swayed as he spoke, certain I would crumple to that luxurious stone floor. It was Laurent who clutched at my hands now, whispering something consolatory in my ear, though the words no longer had any meaning. Not so long ago, I’d knelt in this exact spot, that night Laurent had sentenced me to death—and as horrified as I’d been, being sentenced to life was worse. There had been a pang of regret in Laurent’s expression then, even as he’d pronounced the words that would end my very being.

  But Thomas displayed no such remorse.

  “It only works here.” I could scarcely draw a breath. “Only at Lochfeld. If you take us to Vassian, the gift won’t follow.”

  “Is that so?” Thomas snapped his fingers, and Vahl yanked me to my feet. “Then I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we? Hope you enjoy the voyage.”

  Chapter Nine

  I had never had the misfortune of traveling on a ship before. Laurent, I was certain, had. Nonetheless, almost immediately after they shoved us in a dark hold, he’d become ill, and I’d spent the next few weeks tending to him. No matter how much I tried to cajole Thomas’s men for the slightest comfort, they’d refused to anything more than give me a few buckets to relieve ourselves in and a basket of salty, dried fish. That was reassuring, in an odd way, for it meant we wouldn’t be aboard this creaking hulk for long.

  Not that I truly had to wonder. Too weak to give details, Laurent had been vague about how he’d ended up back at Lochfeld after heading to the Vassian border, but I knew the army of Meirdre would have spread throughout the kingdom looking for him by now. Taking us to Vassian by sea, sailing down the coast and past our borders, avoiding our army, was the safest route for Thomas.

  I soaked a piece of cloth in what little condensation I could find on the wood above my head, then lay it over Laurent’s head. He’d curled up in the corner of the hold a few hours ago, and although he’d refused the fish, his stomach seemed to have settled. Perhaps the waves had subsided as well, but I wouldn’t let myself think of what that meant.

  “I will never forgive myself,” he whispered, as I leaned against him, “for not being the one to take care of you.”

  I forced a laugh. “I’m happy to be healthy enough to be able to do it. We needed a bit of luck.”

  “I wouldn’t call this luck, Riette, dear.”

  “I suppose not.” His forehead was warm under my palm, even though the rag was cool. “But I’m still glad I’m with you.”

  Laurent pressed his lips together. “I am not.”

  “I know. But—” He didn’t ask for clarification of my lingering silence, and my eyes grew wet. “But I couldn’t have stood it if you’d disappeared and I had no idea of what happened to you.”

  “I don’t think you want to find out what happens to me now.”

  I didn’t. I couldn’t even bear to think of it. Shifting on the hard wood behind my back, I squeezed his hand.

  “The map never warned me of this,” I said. Was the magic gone? Had it abandoned me? Or was it true, like I’d said to Thomas, that it didn’t work outside the borders of Meirdre? “Perhaps—”

  Metal clanging above interrupted my thoughts. A shaft of light fell across my grimy dress as the trapdoor slid to the side and a man dropped a rope ladder to the floor.

  “He wants to talk to you.” He pointed down at me, his Vassian accent strident and authoritative. “Up.”

  Laurent made a noise of disapproval, but I didn’t look at him as I stood. If I did, I would cling to him, and while I wanted to do that, I wanted to know what he—likely Thomas—wanted to talk to me about. So raising my chin, I lifted my skirts, and climbed the ladder as gracefully as I could.

  The warm breeze caught my hair almost immediately, carrying with it the briny scent of the ocean. Over the edge of the deck, the faint darkness on the horizon signaled land—but then again, we wouldn’t have had to sail very far east to sail down the coast unnoticed. But the recent serenity of the waves and Thomas’s summons didn’t lie, and I was certain we were almost to Vassian, if not within its waters already. If only my knowledge of maps went deeper than the one on the floor of the ballroom at Lochfeld.

  The man motioned me through a doorway in the center of the ship, a shadowy and cool compartment, lined with windows. The wool carpet was soft under my feet, the exact color of the glassy ocean outside, and a rich silk printed with sea dragons lined the slender walls which remained in between the glass. It was a bit of royalty, right here in the middle of the sea.

  But instead of the ship’s captain, who doubtless occupied this space in normal times, Thomas was sprawled in a velvet chair against the far window, a grin on his face and his boots propped up on the desk in front of him. He hadn’t bothered to move the charts underneath his feet, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the captain knew. Thomas’s shoulder-length hair was cleaner than I suspected it had been for some time, and I hated him e
ven more for being clean when I was not.

  “You don’t look well, Riette,” he greeted me. “It’s amazing what such an extensive lack of sunlight does to a person.”

  “You deserved it,” I spat at him. “And more. But I fought for your life anyway, and this—this is how you repaid me for that mercy? Repaid him?”

  “Mercy?” His tone was sharp as he sat forward. “What would you know of mercy? What would you know of a dungeon under that castle? Of scarcely being able to sit, so restricting was your confinement? Of being so thirsty you could hardly speak?”

  I wanted to retort that Thomas being hardly able to speak was likely a boon to everyone in Lochfeld’s dungeon, prisoner and jailer alike, but I held my tongue.

  “No,” he went on, as I stood there, my jaw tight. “I don’t suppose you know anything about mercy. And so I shall show him none.”

  My heart disappeared somewhere I couldn’t feel it any longer. I knew beyond a doubt that Laurent’s future was short, and likely painful, but accepting it? I couldn’t accept it. Yes, his decision to not release Thomas was cruel, and from time to time I still had nightmares about the moans I’d heard in that cell when I’d left the dungeon myself, but . . . there was mercy there, too. For Thomas was a traitor. And he’d deserved death, just as I had, I suppose. Had worked to overthrow Meirdre, and Laurent had done what he’d done to save it. Even to save me and Thomas and ourselves, for weren’t we part of Meirdre?

  “I won’t plead with you,” I replied. I wanted to. Oh, heavens, I wanted to. Pleading my own life, no, that I would never do. But pleading for Laurent’s? Yes, I would have done that if I’d thought it would make one bit of difference. “If that’s what you’re looking for, then you’ve called me here for nothing at all.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” He reclined once more, lifting his boots back onto the desk. “I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?” I ground out, clenching my hands behind my back. It occurred to me that it was the same way I used to stand before Laurent. I’d always thought it was fear, but now I realized it was anger.

  Thomas folded his hands behind his head and regarded me.

  “About your future.”

  My eyes burned, but I blinked away the tears. It occurred to me, for the first time since I’d entered, that I was still standing just inside the cabin like a fool, frozen. Like a deer who’d caught the scent of a hunter in the small stands of trees around Elternow.

  “What about it?” I asked, stepping forward. “I was led to believe I didn’t have one.”

  He cocked his head. “That depends, of course.”

  Of course.

  If Lochfeld’s magic worked for the king of Vassian, I would be a slave, doomed to spend a lonely existence in exile, away from the castle I’d grown to appreciate, far from my parents, unable to mourn the husband I never thought I’d love. Lonely, confined, captive to a foreign king who hated me and everything I cared about.

  Or would it be so lonely?

  My blood ran cold, even though the ocean breeze through the open door was warm, and sun spilled through the countless windows.

  “Depends on what?” I asked.

  Thomas’s lips curved, revealing teeth stained with tobacco. I’d smelled it when I stepped inside, and it hadn’t bothered me then, but that was back when I’d imagined a kindly sea captain smoking a pipe and staring at maps.

  “You shouldn’t worry about what’s coming,” he said, examining his nails. “Yes, it’s true that if you turn out to be of use to Vassian, you will have to remain there for the rest of your life—but that life needn’t be excruciating. I would be willing to shield you, shall we say, from some of the worst parts of your captivity. It’s the least I can do as an old friend, someone who you once cared for. Though, naturally,” he went on, “that depends on your ability to help His Majesty. If, as you claim, the magic is limited to Lochfeld, there’s nothing even I can argue that would save you.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  His sharp gaze focused on me. “That’s rather short-sighted, don’t you think?”

  I shook my head and glanced out the window. A gull floated there, hovering on the breeze. Past it, the horizon darkened, darkening my soul at the same time. Without saying goodbye to Thomas—without even acknowledging him—I turned and strode out of the captain’s cabin. No one stopped me, not even the man who’d ordered me up from the hold, so I wandered to the side and looked over the edge.

  The sea was shallow here, clear and vibrant with fish and colored rock. I could see all the way to the sandy bottom, covered in the shells, the remains of sea creatures that had been smashed upon the waves. They hadn’t wanted to die either, but nature was cruel. Human nature—or at least the men who had control of mine now—was even crueler.

  And shallow or not, my feet would never reach the bottom. Jumping would be so easy. They might come after me, but I could fight them off—or at least use their own weight in my favor. I wouldn’t have to see Laurent murdered, I wouldn’t have to stand there and be tested by a man I feared and despised, I wouldn’t have to toil for him for the rest of my life, betraying and annihilating my kingdom.

  A shadow fell across my hands as they gripped the side, feeling the splinters where the wood had been abraded by whatever work sailors did on a ship. I shoved my palm against one of the larger splinters, flinching as it plunged into my skin. Rash, yes, but just like when I’d almost destroyed my fingers trying to undo the shackles in Lochfeld’s dungeons, it wouldn’t matter soon. I wouldn’t live long enough to die of infection.

  “Riette.” Thomas spoke too close, too plaintively, though he didn’t touch me. “Come back inside.”

  I shook my head and braced myself.

  Please forgive me.

  I lifted my right foot, but before I could place it against the railing, the calm sea of five minutes ago disappeared in an unnatural rush of whitecaps, sending the ship rolling sideways and propelling me backward a step. My face damp with sea spray, I ground my feet into the deck and sprang for the railing once more, but the ship rolled to the left, and I tumbled sideways, straight into Thomas’s arms. He grabbed my wrist as I tried to yank it away, then jerked my arm behind me.

  “Dammit, Riette, don’t be stupid!”

  I shrieked at him to let me go, but he clung to me as I kicked at him, fighting to reach the side once more. His grip grew tighter as he dragged me to the center of the deck, and for a moment I heard actual fear in his voice. In confusion, I stopped. The ship swayed backward, and smooth glass replaced the waves that had been there just a moment before. I let myself sag in his grip, heavy reality overcoming my desperate desire to flee.

  What would jumping accomplish? Laurent’s fate was certain, yes, but—but I couldn’t leave him to it alone. I couldn’t betray him like that. I wouldn’t allow him to die alone, especially if that was what Thomas and the king of Vassian wanted. I shoved my elbow into Thomas’s side, and that time he stepped away, but not before giving me a wary look.

  “Take me back to him,” I ordered. “Now.”

  “Riette, look, it doesn’t have to be this way. You can—”

  “I will not abandon him.” My voice shook as I interrupted him, turning toward the hatch that led to the hold. “Not now.”

  Not ever.

  Chapter Ten

  There was no roof on the cart that drew us through the streets of the seaport village where we’d landed to the minor castle on the cliffs above. Soldiers in brilliant red uniforms, gaudier than anything anyone in Meirdre would ever consider wearing, rode alongside us. They were ostensibly to protect us from the residents who’d gathered to see the condemned king of Meirdre hauled to his death, but protecting our lives was all they appeared to be doing. They certainly weren’t doing much to deflect the rotten vegetables and small stones being hurled at the cart.

  Laurent drew me against him as another rock landed by my feet. It bounced off the shoes I’d been given, but I was lucky—Laure
nt’s exposed skin showed bruises. Some of his former strength seemed to have appeared since we’d disembarked at the wharf, though he still looked pale and drawn. The shackles around his wrists ground against the back of my neck as he held me, but I didn’t complain. King or prisoner—or both, I supposed—I felt safe with his arms around me, even in such a place.

  “I love you,” he murmured against my hair. “I am furious you’re here, but heavens, sometimes it seems a miracle at the same time.” He sucked in a breath, then pushed my face against his chest, a hand on the back of my head.

  “What happened?” I mumbled. “Let me see!”

  “Just a rock.” I strained to free myself to check on his injuries, but he held me tight and ran his fingers through my hair. “There will be more. Don’t trouble yourself with a bit of blood, my dear.”

  “They can’t do this.” I’d been saying it since we left the wharf, but I’d say it once more, like it could change something. “They can’t.”

  “Damir has been wanting Meirdre for years. At least a decade.” He took another breath, but that time I didn’t fight to see what had happened. “We stand in the way of his movement toward Nantoise and beyond, always have. But I will not surrender our access to the sea by retreating to the west like my father always spoke of doing.”

  “He did?” I chewed on my lip. West of the Tourmel Mountains, Meirdre sprawled for days, but Laurent was right—access to the ocean was too important to concede. The castle above Windersay, where the cart was now dragging us, was enough proof of that—Vassian’s own watch of the coast. And how could I forget that Elternow sat right where Damir would march on his way north? Lochfeld, as well. Had my parents made it somewhere safe? Would Thomas find them if Vassian took our kingdom? They would have to become almost invisible to hide from his retribution.