by Rachel Aaron
A brush on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to see Nico stepping out of a deep-shadowed corner.
Eli bundled his somber coat together with Josef’s and put them, along with his false beard and spectacles, into the leather satchel, which he then stashed in the nearest closet. He made a mental note of the door just in case they ever got a chance to come back. The Council Audit scam was a sure bet, but it was horrendously expensive to set up. He didn’t want to abandon the coats unless he had to.
When he was satisfied he could find the closet again in a hurry, he turned to Josef. “Well, my lord prince, where now?”
“Don’t call me that,” Josef snapped, setting off down the hall. “And this way. We’re going to see the queen.”
“Just like that?” Eli said, frowning.
Josef nodded. “Just like that. Nico, you’re on scout. I’ve got point. We’re headed for the north wing. Keep the guards away.”
“Right,” Nico said, vanishing into the shadows like smoke.
Eli whistled, impressed. “Nice to see she’s got it back.”
Josef stomped off down the hall without comment. Eli sighed and fell into step behind him.
They took a convoluted path through the servant passages, though any route would have been twisty, considering how the old palace wrapped around the mountain peak. Eli had been disappointed to see that the palace’s outward shabbiness continued on the inside. The whole place seemed to be nothing but oppressive stone walls and wooden floors hollowed by centuries of feet. The narrow halls would have made avoiding people difficult, but, fortunately, most of the palace seemed occupied with after-dinner entertainment. Eli heard voices through doors and around corners, but they never encountered another person, servant or guard, even when they entered what was obviously a private wing. He was just starting to feel a little unsettled by this when Josef turned a corner and stopped.
They were standing in a long gallery. One wall had sets of narrow windows paned with leaded glass; the other was lined with portraits of stern, fair-haired men. At the end of the gallery, directly across from where they stood, two guards were slumped on the floor. Nico stood beside them, rubbing her hand.
Eli sighed. Of course.
“Nice work,” he said flatly as Josef went to help Nico roll the soldiers aside.
“They’ll be fine,” Josef said. “I taught her how to do it. Right, Nico?”
Nico nodded. “Clean strike to the neck from behind,” she said, looking at Eli. “What? It’s never bothered you before when we knocked out guards.”
“But these are his mother’s guards,” Eli said, pointing at Josef. “It feels rude.”
Josef’s lip curled into a dark smile. “They’re guards in Osera. If they can’t take a little hit to the head, they shouldn’t be here.” He turned away from Eli’s grimace to face the closed door at the end of the gallery. “Let’s get this over with.”
He strode down the hall and opened the door with a shove. The first thing Eli noticed about the royal chamber was that, for the home of the monarch of a wealthy nation, it was remarkably cramped. The room was as narrow as the gallery, and the dark tapestries depicting battles and hunts that covered most of the stone walls made it feel only smaller. Same for dim light coming from the half-lit candelabra that hung from the high, but not impressively high, ceiling. There was a raised, wooden dais at the far end of the room, obviously meant for receiving guests in royal fashion, but the ornate chair at its center was empty and the gold-plated lamps were dark. For several seconds, Eli thought they’d come all this way for nothing, but then his eyes drifted to the small fireplace in the corner. There, a low couch was pulled up to the feeble fire, and on it, lying buried under a large blanket, was an old woman.
The firelight dug deep shadows below her eyes, painting her wrinkles in long black gouges. There was a stack of papers on her lap, but she wasn’t looking at them. Instead, she lay back on the pillows with her eyes shut and her thin mouth pressed in a tight line, as though she were biting her teeth against some long-running pain. Her hair, a thin, brittle mix of pale gold and white, lay spread out on the pillows behind her, freshly washed and combed, though Eli saw no one who could have combed it. The three of them hung at the door, hesitant. The room was so dark, the scene of the old woman sleeping by the fire so private, Eli felt almost guilty stepping inside. Even Josef seemed to have lost his urgency. He stood hovering beside Eli, his scarred face strangely blank as he watched the old woman sleeping.
It was the woman herself who broke the silence. One second Eli would have bet his bounty she was deep asleep, the next her voice rang clear and cold through the room.
“I gave strict orders I was not to be disturbed,” she said, pale eyes cracking open under her narrow, furrowed brows. “If this is not a matter of national emergency, I…” Her voice trailed off when she spotted Josef, and her whole, skeletal body went white as chalk.
Josef stiffened, and Eli leaned back to watch. He loved family reunions. He rather hoped the old woman would cry, if for no other reason than to see how Josef’s stony swordsman routine would hold up under a mother’s tears. But when the queen spoke again, her voice was even colder than before.
“Home at last,” she said. “Why am I not surprised to find you sneaking in like a thief in the night, Thereson?”
“You put the bounty on my head,” Josef said. “How else did you expect me to arrive when you made me a criminal, mother?”
The anger in Josef’s voice made Eli wince, but the woman, whom Eli now knew was Queen Theresa, seemed unmoved.
“You left me little other recourse,” she said. “It is a sad lot for Osera when her prince requires such drastic measures to bring him back to his duty.”
Josef crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not here to relive old fights,” he growled. “I came only because you made it clear that you were willing to bankrupt Osera to get me home. So here I am. Now tell me what you want so I can tell you no and we can be done with this idea that I’m still yours to command.”
Theresa’s pale lips curled in a long, slow smile. “But you are, child. You’ve proved it, just now. You came back. It is but a tiny shred of the responsibility my son should hold, but it is a shred more than many thought you had.”
Josef gritted his teeth. “Get on with it.”
Slowly, with great effort, Queen Theresa sat up. She pulled her thin, bony hand from beneath the blanket and held it out, pointing out the tiny window east, toward the Unseen Sea. “The Immortal Empress has returned.”
Josef’s shoulders tensed, but his voice remained insultingly casual. “So? What do you want me to do about it?”
Theresa’s eyes narrowed. “Your duty,” she spat. “After fifteen years of silence, the Empress’s shipyards are active again. My spies report a fleet of palace ships nearly finished. You are Oseran; you know what that means.” Her voice began to quiver. “She is coming, Thereson. If we are to stand against her, Osera must be strong.”
“Osera is strong,” Josef said.
“But I am not,” Theresa said, her bony hand clenching into a shaking fist.
Josef sighed. “You don’t look that bad.”
“Really?” the queen snapped. “Look at me again.” She raised her hand to her face, pressing her thin fingers into the deep hollows of her cheeks. “Look.”
Josef looked, jaw clenched. “Fine, you look terrible. Is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry you’re sick, but—”
The queen’s gray eyes grew stony, shutting Josef’s mouth with a single look. “Sick?” she said softly. “Sick is what I’ve been for the last five years, not that you would know. But I’m no longer sick, Thereson. I am dying. Even my doctors have stopped pretending I will see another year.”
Eli could hear Josef’s teeth grinding, but the queen didn’t flinch. For the first time, Eli could see the family resemblance. The queen looked like Josef did right before he threw his sword away and grabbed the Heart.
“Disappointment t
hat you are,” she said, “you are my only child, the only full-blooded heir remaining to the Throne of Iron Lions. If our line is to continue, you must—”
“Must what?” Josef said with a bitterness Eli had never heard in his voice before. “Maybe you’ve forgotten in your old age, mother, but you were the one who told me I would never be king. That you would disown me if I continued my ‘swordsman nonsense.’ ” He laid his hand on the Heart of War’s wrapped hilt. “My sword has stood me better than your throne. I won’t abandon it just because you’ve changed your mind.”
“My mind remains as it ever has,” the queen said through clenched teeth. “So does your stubborn ability to hear what you want instead of what I say. Listen closely, boy. I’m not asking you to be king.”
Josef froze. “You’re not?”
“Of course not.” Theresa lay back on her lounge with a huff. “Do you have any idea how hard I fought to inherit when my father died? How hard I fought to stay queen when my own cousins said a woman could never lead Osera? Do you think I’d leave that hard-won legacy to a selfish, violent, shiftless brat who doesn’t have the presence of mind to be a prince, much less a king?”
She tilted her head, waiting for an answer. When none came, she continued. “Your cousin, Finley, will become king when I pass.”
“Finley?” Josef roared. “Powers, woman! If you had an heir, why did you drag me all the way out here?”
“Because Osera has no heir!” the queen roared back. “Finley’s not an Eisenlowe. He’s blood enough to take the throne in an emergency, but not to pass it on to his son. Honestly,” she huffed, “after all I spent on your tutors, I’d have hoped you’d remember something of Oseran law.”
Josef shook his head, but Theresa held up her hand, cutting him off before he could get a word in. “I’m not asking you to be king, Thereson,” she said coldly. “But I am asking you to do your duty to the family. There is only one royal blood line in Osera, and, tragically, that line runs through you. We have no other options. You must give Osera an heir.”
Josef recoiled in horror. “An heir? You mean—”
“A baby, yes,” his mother said. “I’m sure even you can manage that much. I know the princess can.”
This was enough to make Eli break his uncharacteristic silence. “Wait, princess?”
“Yes,” the queen said, raising her voice. “Adela!”
Josef pressed his hand to his forehead as the door to the queen’s chamber burst open and a squad of guards marched into the room. There were a dozen of them at least, but Eli’s attention was on the woman who led them. She was shockingly lovely. As tall as Josef and clad in shining silver armor with an ornate short sword at her hip. Her hair was deep brown, almost black, and braided tight against her head. Her skin was the warm, healthy tan of someone who spent most of her time outdoors, but her brown eyes were narrowed in the cold stare of an absolute professional as she marched toward them.
Eli raised his hands without prompting, but the woman brushed past him, going straight for Josef. Eli felt Nico stiffen, and he put a warning hand on her arm. The other guards were fanning out around them, cutting off the exits. Nico glanced at him, then at Josef, and then at the door, but Eli shook his head. Josef hadn’t moved yet.
Now that the door was open, another woman, older but also shockingly lovely despite her simple black dress, walked briskly into the queen’s chamber and hurried to Theresa’s side. Eli tilted his head, watching as the woman began to fuss over the queen. But Theresa shook her head and gently pushed the woman’s hands away.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you, Lenette.”
The woman in black nodded and fell back, surrendering her place beside the queen to the young, armored woman. The circle of guards tightened, and Eli glanced at Josef, but the swordsman still hadn’t moved. He simply stood there, staring at the queen. For her part, Theresa was leaning back on her pillows, enjoying the turned tables.
“Thereson,” she said, placing her hand on the lovely young woman’s arm. “You remember Adela, don’t you?”
“How could I forget?” Josef grumbled. His mother arched an eyebrow, and he adjusted his tone. “Good evening, Princess Adela.”
“Prince Thereson,” the woman said with a nod.
Eli looked from the lovely woman to Josef and back again. There wasn’t much resemblance, but…
“Your sister?” he guessed.
“No,” Josef said. “That’s my wife.”
Utter silence descended. Even Eli was speechless. But it wasn’t Eli who recovered first. The voice that broke the silence was Nico’s.
“Wife?”
Eli groaned inwardly. Nico was staring at Josef, eyes wide with a look of complete betrayal.
“Wife?”
“It’s not what it looks like!” Josef shouted, stabbing his finger at the queen. “She married me in absentia last year. I didn’t even know about it until a few months ago.”
Eli took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn’t rise to it, that now was not the time, but for once his tongue was faster than his good sense. “Months ago?” he cried. “And when exactly were you planning on sharing this bit of important social news?”
“Never,” Josef said. “Because it’s not important. It wasn’t like I had a say. I can’t control what my mother does without my knowledge.”
Nico took a step back. She was still staring at Josef, her eyes so wide Eli could see the whites all the way around.
“Nico,” Josef said, his voice warning.
She took another step.
Josef looked at her, his face as close to panic as Eli had ever seen it. “Nico, listen—”
Before he could say anything else, Nico vanished. There was no sound, no flash. She simply snuffed out like a candle.
After that, everything happened at once.
Josef roared curses as the startled guards rushed forward, swords drawn. Eli put up his hands as a blade pressed into his back, but when a guard tried the same to Josef, the swordsman whirled around, grabbed the sword out of the guard’s hand, and threw him to the ground so hard the man bounced. The guard’s sword followed a second later as Josef, still cursing, threw it hilt first at the man’s head.
With that, Josef straightened up, rolled his shoulders, and started for the door. Started, and then stopped cold. Eli blinked in surprise. He hadn’t seen her move, hadn’t heard her, but the princess was suddenly right behind Josef, the tip of her short sword pressed into his right shoulder.
“That’s enough, Prince Thereson,” she said quietly. “One more step and I sever the ligament that moves your sword arm. Hands where I can see them, please.”
Josef put his hands out slowly, and the princess turned him around to face the queen again.
“What was that?” the queen said in a low, angry voice. “What have you gotten yourself involved with, Thereson?”
Eli gritted his teeth. Things were rapidly falling apart. It wasn’t so much the sword at his own back. He could duck out of that easily enough. But he could see Josef’s hands shaking as the queen questioned him. The swordsman was pale with rage, the kind that took some good old-fashioned violence to pull him out of, and the queen wasn’t letting up. It was up to Eli to act fast before Josef did something they’d regret.
“Your majesty,” he said, stepping past Josef and the princess with a florid bow, much to his guard’s surprise. Josef whipped around, but Eli stomped on his toes before the swordsman could say anything and smiled his best smile at the queen. “I believe we’ve started this on the wrong foot.”
The queen looked down her nose at him, quite a feat, considering he was standing and she was sitting. “And who are you? What makes you think you have the right to speak in my presence?”
Eli’s smile grew even more charming. “Because I am the son of one of your oldest allies.” He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a creased slip of paper, which he handed to the queen with a flourish. “Eliton Banage.”
“Banage?” The
queen frowned, confused. “You are Etmon’s son?”
“The very same,” Eli said as she took the paper from his fingers. “And every bit as much of a disappointment to him as our dear Josef is to you.”
The queen glanced at the paper. “This is a Council identity paper for a child,” she said. “And it’s almost two decades out of date.”
“I don’t get home much,” Eli said, his voice deepening to a tragic note. “My father and I don’t get along, as you can see. But he always spoke very highly of you and his time fighting for Osera against the Empress.”
Queen Theresa arched an eyebrow. “I sincerely doubt that,” she said, handing the slip of paper to the lovely lady in black. “You won’t object if I ask Lenette to check the validity of your statement? I will admit there is a family resemblance, but I must be sure. Still”—her eyes narrowed—“you are the right age.”
Eli gave her his best innocent look. The queen didn’t seem to buy it.
“Well,” Theresa said, sitting back. “If you are indeed Etmon’s son, then I welcome you, but this is a family matter. You’d do best to stay out of it.”
Eli’s face clouded with a look of deep pain. “I understand your reticence, your grace,” he said gently. “But your son and I have been thick as thieves for a while now. I know him as I know myself, and, if I may be so bold, I don’t think you have things quite by the right end.” He clasped his hands, and his voice shook with earnest emotion. “Whatever terms he may have left you on, your majesty, Josef dropped everything to come here when he saw those posters. Even I was inspired. He’s trying to do the right thing, but it’s not easy. He’s been living his life moment to moment as a mercenary for years, and now, to suddenly hear that he’s expected to father a child with a wife he’s known about for only a few months, that’s a bone for any man to swallow. As you saw, the mere mention was too much for our other companion.”
“Yes,” the queen said, leaning forward. “What about your companion?”
“Oh, Nico does that all the time,” Eli said, waving her words away. “She’s quite the escape artist. Some people swear she disappears into thin air, but I’m sure your majesty is not one to be fooled by such cheap tricks.”