by Grace Draven
Ursula snorted and shook her head, but Harlan—whose name meant “rabbit” in Dasnarian—smiled in placid appreciation for the joke.
While the more lighthearted mood persisted, I went in for the part she really wouldn’t like. We’d been down this road before and it had turned out badly. “Also, if you’re to be High Queen, you need to dress the part.”
As I’d predicted to myself, she darkened. We both remembered too well how Uorsin had reacted when she wore her mother’s jewels. But that had been the fault of his unstable character, not the plan itself. Never mind that it had been my plan and turned out disastrously. I still believed in it. And in her.
“No more fighting leathers in formal court,” I persisted before she could cut off the conversation. “In fact, until you’re crowned, you should only hold informal court. You don’t need to wear gowns, but you should look like the High Queen, if only then. For the actual coronation though, you should have a gown, an elaborate one that represents who you are as a ruler. One that we can have you painted in, for your formal portrait.”
She visibly cringed—not out of irritation, either—and Harlan stroked a hand over the back of her neck, giving me a warning look. Something about the coronation gown struck a nerve. I didn’t know what, but Harlan did. “She doesn’t have to, not if—”
“I can handle a silly thing like a dress,” Ursula interrupted, brushing the tension from the air like encroaching cobwebs. “I’ll give it thought and decide on something. What else?”
“You need ladies to see to you—your hair, nails, jewels. We need to fix your sword. For the coronation, you’ll need a crown. One that you’ll actually wear. And after,” I took a steadying breath, keeping firm, as compassion wasn’t what she needed from me right then, “you’ll have to sit on the High Throne.”
So much there that she hated. Better to lay out all the pain at once. At least I’d accurately predicted what would disturb her most in that list, making up for my miss on the coronation gown. Her hand had fallen to her sword hilt, where the missing jewel had been. That hurt the worst.
“We could find another topaz,” I told her quietly. “Something that might look the same.”
Her expression shuttered. “No need. I have it. That’s enough.”
“One of the rubies then. We could prize them from the crown jewels.”
Ami and Andi followed the exchange with great interest. Had they known that Ursula had stashed away Salena’s rubies in her wardrobe all those years? Ursula wondered, too, her gaze going to them, each in turn, measuring. “Yes,” she decided. “Prize the jewels from their settings. One for my sword, the others equally divided between Ami and Andi. If that’s allowable within your rules, librarian.”
Not my rules, those of the law, as the queen’s jewels technically belonged to the station, not a person, but I let it go. “The crown?” I prodded.
“I won’t wear his.” She glared at me in defiance, reminding me of the adolescent girl she’d been in those first years after Salena died, full of anger and anguish.
“Fine. You should have your own. Whatever seems right to you. The same with the throne.”
“Truly?” She mulled that over, seeming, for the first time since I’d arrived, hopeful.
“I’d recommend it, in fact. It’s past time to do away with the empty thrones. There should be just one. As rulers of their own kingdoms, Queen Andromeda, King Rayfe, and Queen Amelia hold equal rank to any of the kings and queens of the kingdoms under your rule— they have their own realms, their own concerns—they should not be sitting next to the High Throne unless you plan to give all the kingdoms a chair beside you.” Once Salena died, Uorsin had kept hers ostentatiously present and empty. As they departed, Andi and Ami had left theirs similarly abandoned. A sight that reminded all who viewed them of attrition and loss. Not what we wanted at all.
“I dreamed...” Ursula sounded uncharacteristically uncertain.
“What?” Everyone else stayed quiet, listening.
She shook herself. Looking around at the people gathered. The ones she loved and trusted the most.
“It’s not just about you,” Andi said, in a gentle tone. “The visions our mother gave you, she gave to all of us.”
“You think so?” Ursula sounded more like herself, the pragmatic skeptic.
“Yes,” Ami chimed in, emphatic. “Did you dream of a throne? Tell us about it.”
“When she told me what to do, how to end it all, yes, Salena sat on a throne.” Ursula didn’t much like talking about things not grounded in the real world of flesh and blood, but her voice gained strength as we listened. “It was carved of wood, with intricate vines and flowers. It stood alone.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at Harlan, who simply smiled.
“You know I prefer to stand rather than sit,” was all he said.
“I have some artisans who could carve such a thing in short time,” Rayfe offered. Everyone turned to him in surprise and he affected shock. “What? I support my heart-sister.” His grin turned wolfish. “In exchange for heavy concessions for Annfwn.”
“I’ve found precedent for that,” I offered, less certain here. “We can sit down with the various original treaties among the Twelve—they varied depending on the process of”—I had to clear my throat of old grief and tension—“ah, acquisition.”
“Annfwn will not be acquired.” Rayfe had gone deadly serious, with a lethal edge. Though he remained in human form, the predator looked out of his eyes, making my coward’s heart skip a beat.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It’s not a question,” Ursula answered with her own edge, taking over for my blunder and doing what she did best. “Your borders are open and we are all bedfellows whether you like it or not. All that remains is to sort out the legal details.”
Rayfe hadn’t moved, but he seemed to shimmer, the way Tala did moments before they shifted. Though she sat with her back to him, Andi must have sensed it because she narrowed her eyes at Ursula. “Stop baiting him.” She said it mildly, but the words carried her own brand of threat.
Ursula held up her hands, a peacemaking gesture, but the frustrated furrows on her brow belied it. “Apologies, King Rayfe.” She seemed about to say something more, but sighed out a sharp breath instead and turned to me. “We’ll table this debate until the librarian has finished. What else?”
It hit me, the question, the implicit trust in it. The future High Queen of the Thirteen Kingdoms not only listened to my advice but would follow it. Exhilarating, yes. Also daunting for a small cat, in a room with six wolves, all focused on me. Even Ami, with her lush beauty, possessed a ferocious heart. Enviable, their strength and courage. I took a deep breath. Focus on the immediate. I, at least, had knowledge, and it had always served me well.
“Two more things.” I hated to throw more discord into the already tense conversation, but they had to think about these things now. “Because you can only declare one heir, you need to pick which twin it will be. And you need to decide who will perform the coronation.”
All looked to Ami at that. She took the easier question first. “Who crowned Uorsin? I don’t think I ever knew.”
“High Priest Kir.” I let that sit a moment with them, not at all surprised by their varying expressions of dismay and Ami’s outright groan.
“Why is that a problem?” Harlan inquired. “Will he not agree?”
“He might have,” Ami replied with a rueful smile, “if we could find him and if I hadn’t deposed him as the head of Glorianna’s church after sending him on that quest to nowhere. What’s most odd is that he’s never returned. Do you suppose a monster ate him?”
Though Ursula didn’t exactly crack a smile at that, her eyes lit with a hint of amused satisfaction. “I warned you that your actions would have long-ranging consequences.”
“You didn’t stop me,” Ami retorted. “I thought maybe you weren’t even paying attention.”
“I always pay attention. I held no great love for Kir and, as you know
, I look to Danu, not Glorianna. It seemed meet to leave that to you. However”—she clicked her tongue, thinking—“it certainly drops a problem in our laps now.”
“Who is head of Glorianna’s church?” Andi asked.
“Me.” Ami smiled apologetically through her chagrin. “Ursula’s right. I guess I didn’t think through the ramifications.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at Ash. His scarred face remained somber, making the look in his uncanny green eyes all that much more radiant in contrast, as if he gazed at the sun. “Though it was worth it and I’d do it again. It made it easier to effect important changes.”
“It didn’t occur to me, either, at the time,” I told her, by way of support and apology. Instead I’d assisted her with enthusiasm, in full agreement with resolving the corruption in the church that had wounded so many like Ash. “But you can’t crown your own sister High Queen.”
“Uorsin declared Glorianna’s church as the official one of the Twelve, for reasons I can only guess at,” Ursula mused. “If we agree with Ami’s suggestion that we officially return all three goddesses to equal footing, could we have a ceremony with a priest or priestess each of Glorianna, Danu, and Moranu?”
“That’s how we were married,” Andi glanced over her shoulder at Rayfe, who gazed back at her with some deep emotion. Wed on yet another battlefield soaked in blood. I’d liked him for her then, with his wild blue eyes and carefully controlled sense of danger. Not unlike Andi herself.
“Truly?” Ursula shook her head. “I don’t think I knew that.” Because she hadn’t been there, it went without saying, as she’d been leading Uorsin’s armies to stop the wedding. “Would that work, Dafne? And would I have to declare Glorianna’s worship no longer the official one and elevate the others?”
I opened my mouth, but Ami beat me to it. “No, don’t do that. Being crowned by representatives of all three will say the same thing, without sending all the priests of Glorianna into fits.”
“Moranu and Danu don’t have the same internal hierarchies in their temples,” I pointed out. “You could ask for someone special from each, the oldest within traveling distance or some such. That lets you out of having the head of Glorianna’s church involved.”
“Does this make you High Priestess?” Andi demanded of Ami, who flushed.
“I’ll take care of it,” she muttered.
“Probably wise,” Ursula agreed. “And Astar and Stella?”
Ami stared back evenly. “You tell me. But I should point out that I owe Avonlidgh an heir, also. I won’t break that promise to Hugh.”
“Uorsin wanted Astar for his heir.”
“And Andromeda would claim Stella for hers,” Rayfe inserted meaningfully.
“You know, you both might have babies of your own,” Ami pointed out with a certain malicious delight, casting a significant glance at Ursula’s lean waist and fluttering her lashes. “I know it’s not for lack of creating the opportunity.”
To my surprise, Ursula did not tease back, but tensed, going brittle. With a long look at her, Harlan spoke up. “We’ve agreed that any children we might have together will not inherit the High Throne.”
Silence, prickly and chill, fell over the room. Andi studied them both, her eyes going to fog as they did when she glimpsed visions of another place and time.
“Because you’re not married?” Ami asked. “Simple—marry the man already. Make an honest mercenary of him.”
“I cannot marry a prince of Dasnaria,” Ursula said, slowly spacing out the words, as if speaking to an idiot. “No more than you, as the Queen of Avonlidgh, can marry an ex-convict. No disrespect, Ash.”
He shrugged, pitted face difficult to read. “I am an ex-convict. Though it would be most welcome if you would get yourself crowned and correct some of the laws that would have me sent back to prison, should anyone else discover the fact.”
“I haven’t forgotten what I promised,” Ursula returned in her deliberately mild tone that meant she was more on edge than ever.
“All we need to decide at this moment,” I inserted into the rising tension, “is an interim heir. Should more babies ... develop, we can revisit the debate.”
Ursula flicked a glance at me, raising her brows at my attempt to avoid the thorny issue. I sighed and dipped my chin in acknowledgment of her silent point, much as I hated it.
“Her Highness is likely correct. With Dasnaria neither an ally nor an enemy, we cannot afford to create such an alliance, especially so early in Ursula’s reign. At least formally.” I gave Harlan an apologetic half smile, but his implacable expression did not alter.
“It is of no concern to me.” He spoke to Ursula, though she didn’t look at him, with the air of a man who’s repeated the same thing numerous times. Likely he had. “Likewise, I highly doubt Dasnaria will concern herself with us. My brothers wrote me off as not useless years ago. I’m sure they give no more thought to me than I do to them.”
Andi startled, her eyes flying wide. She covered it quickly, but not before Ursula saw it, too. “What do you see?” she asked softly, nearly hesitant.
Andi shook her head. “Nothing clear.”
“Something.”
“Just... I think Dafne is right. We need to put things in order quickly.” She firmed her mouth over saying more. A bad sign. Perhaps I could get her to talk privately.
I cleared my throat, preparing to herd my roomful of restless predators back to the decision at hand, but Ursula beat me to it.
“All right then. Astar cannot be heir to both Avonlidgh and the High Throne,” she said. “By the same token, Stella cannot be heir to both Avonlidgh and Annfwn.”
“I should have had triplets,” Ami grumbled, then shot Ash a saucy grin. “Want to try for more?”
“They wouldn’t be legitimate heirs,” Ursula reminded her. “You’d have to marry to produce legal heirs.”
“I know that, but I’m not marrying anyone but Ash,” Ami fired back.
“Then, like me, you won’t marry.”
“Besides,” Ash remarked, a whisper of a laugh under the gravel in his voice, “I haven’t offered.”
“Oh hush.” Ami scowled at his amusement. “I’d command you to do it. What’s the point of being queen if I can’t do whatever I want?”
“Ursula is free to marry another,” Harlan put in, perfectly neutral.
Ursula turned in her chair to give him an incredulous look. “No.”
“You owe me no vow such as I made to you. Your priority has to be the best choice for those under your rule. If an alliance becomes important, you should be free to make it.”
“And you’d just stand by?”
He simply touched the backs of his fingers to his forehead, in the intimate salute he gave only to Ursula. “The Elskastholrr binds me to you, not the other way around.”
“I said it back to you,” she replied and his stern expression melted with emotion almost embarrassing to witness.
“I know. Which I treasure, but without the Skablykrr, it lacks the same weight. You are, and will remain, free of obligation to me.” He cast me a somber look. “Lady Mailloux should be aware of this truth, to advise you accordingly.”
“Should I also know what it means?” I asked, somewhat faintly as I tried to assimilate this information.
“It’s not a secret,” Harlan replied, gaze falling to Ursula as she turned her back to him and scowled at the table, “though—for the very reason I brought it up—it might be best if the information not go beyond the people in this room. “The Elskastholrr is a tradition that goes back many centuries, in the school of Skablykrr, which teaches a philosophical and martial system. It’s a pledge that a man gives a woman, to devote himself to her and only to her, for the rest of his life.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ash whistled low and long. Only Andi seemed unsurprised. Quite possibly such a vow contained a magical component that she could sense.
“Only men to women?” Ami asked. “Not the other way around?” Ash made a disp
araging sound and she flicked her fingertips at him.
Harlan shook his head slowly. “Dasnarian women are different. They do not train to fight or take this schooling such as the men do. I’ve come to see this as Dasnaria’s loss, in truth.”
“I’ve never read about the Elskastholrr,” I ventured. And I’d been reading quite a bit about Dasnaria since the arrival of Harlan and his Vervaldr, not to mention Illyria.
“You wouldn’t have, not directly, as it’s not to be recorded in any permanent form. However, you’ll find references if you research Dasnarian love ballads and tales.”
“Particularly the tragic ones,” Ursula snapped, clearly seething over the situation.
Harlan only smiled easily at the back of her head. “All in the eye of the beholder, Your Highness.” The way he spoke her title sounded like a profound expression of love.
One I had to look away from, as I felt like an intruder on something too intimate for witnesses. “I will look into that. Thank you for telling me. We will have to address the subject of marriage eventually.” I met Ursula’s glare, holding my ground. “There will be offers. You know that.”
“Then know this.” She relaxed, losing her anger in the certainty of the decision she’d come to. Standing, she turned to face Harlan, a slim blade of a woman before his bulk. “I might not have the training or authority to make the vow that you have, but I can make my own pledges, based on my own beliefs. There will never be another for me. No matter what.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, my hawk.”
“Maybe I have something to prove to myself then. I’ll abdicate the crown before I marry another.”
Though they didn’t touch, only held each other’s gazes, the moment stretched out, humming with intimate power.
Andi shook back her hair, coughing lightly to break the moment. “Probably something else that shouldn’t leave this room.”
Ursula seated herself again, a hint of self-conscious color on her cheeks at having exposed herself, but she held firm. “It’s good that you all know where I stand on this.”