Evanescent (Chronicles of Nerissette)

by Buchanan, Andria

  “But if he was with the Fate Maker’s army, he may still be with them,” John added.

  Timbago looked wary. “The Empress Bavasama says that he returned to Bathune though.”

  “Since when do we believe anything that Bavasama says?” John snapped.

  “We don’t.” Timbago glared at the other man. “But unless we have proof, which we don’t, we can’t just accuse the empress of Bathune of waging war against the Golden Rose. Against her own family. Her only remaining family.”

  “Even though we all know that she did it,” I said quietly. “My aunt wants my throne, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

  “Yes.” John nodded.

  I turned to look at the goblin standing across from me, focusing on his bulging, red-veined eyes. “Timbago?”

  “Yes, she has sided with your enemies,” he said softly, “and she will kill you if she gets the chance. But right now we aren’t in a strong enough position to start a war that will stop her. Right now we must bow our heads and make peace with your aunt. Until we’re sure we can win a war against her.”

  “I agree,” John said. “I don’t like it, but Timbago is right. Today we have no choice but to maintain the peace.”

  “And what about Eriste?” I asked. “The new ambassador? What do either of you know about him?”

  “He makes Sarai look like a kitten dressed up in trollskin.” Timbago snorted.

  “You’ve dealt with him before?” I asked.

  “More than I would care to admit,” Timbago said. “I wasn’t unhappy to see him leave when he went with the empress to Bathune, and I’m not pleased to see him return.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Timbago. “So you don’t like him?”

  “I never liked him, Queen Allie.”

  “Why?” I asked, trying to get a feel for the ambassador I would be meeting before we were actually face-to-face.

  “Before your mother became the Golden Rose, when your grandmother ruled, Bathune and Nerissette were one country.” Timbago looked away. “The old queen split the lands at the White Mountains when she died, so that each of her daughters could inherit part of the kingdom, which she’d hoped would prevent a civil war between them.”

  I knew this already. When I hadn’t been going over paperwork and trying to rebuild the parts of my castle that had been damaged in the Fate Maker’s last attack, I’d been studying the history of my new home and how my ancestors had ruled it. “And?”

  “A lot of the wizards felt that the kingdom shouldn’t have been split, that it should have gone to the oldest daughter—Bavasama—as a whole kingdom. Eriste was one of them,” John said.

  “So you think he wants to get rid of me and put Bavasama on the throne?”

  “I know he does.” Timbago’s eyes fixed on mine now. “The only question is will he do anything about it?”

  “Do you think that’s why my aunt sent him?” I asked. “Do you think Bavasama is going to try to force me from my throne?”

  “I think she would not be sad to see you gone,” John sidestepped. “You are the queen of a large kingdom, a kingdom larger than her own, and one she will inherit if you die. She has much to gain. And you didn’t die in battle the first time…”

  John had helped Rhys after the war, making sure that the wounded were treated and the dead were taken care of while I was still too weak from my own fight with the Fate Maker to take charge. Since then he’d moved into the palace and his son, Eamon, had joined the Royal Guards with several other woodsmen. Whenever I needed John he’d been there, ready with advice or information to help me make decisions in the day-to-day running of the kingdom. He was never pushy, though. Never demanded that I do things a specific way. He simply gave me the information I needed and helped me keep the country under control while I figured out how I was supposed to manage. He was doing it again now.

  “So, long story short, she’s going to try to be my friend while she looks for a way to stab me in the back.” I blew out a long breath. No one had ever told me that running a country was going to be like living inside a high school but it was. Between the squabbling cliques of nobles and the gossip and the general he said-she said crap that floated around the place it was like being at boarding school or something. Except, unlike Harry Potter, I didn’t have a cool professor like McGonagall to keep everyone in line for me.

  “That’s politics, Your Majesty,” Timbago said. “Eriste means you nothing but harm and is not to be trusted.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Don’t trust him. Don’t trust her. That shouldn’t be hard. It seems I can’t trust most people anymore anyway. Just you two, Winston, Rhys, and Mercedes.”

  “Can I give you a piece of advice, Your Majesty?” John asked as he led me back into the throne room. “You shouldn’t trust anyone. Not even us.”

  I stopped, my hand going for my sword. “Why not?” I eyed him warily.

  “We all have an agenda.”

  “Even you?”

  John lifted an eyebrow. “Even me what?”

  “Do you have an agenda?”

  “Yes. It involves keeping you on the throne and seeing the Fate Maker dead.” He cleared his throat. “Now come along, there’s an ambassador you need to impress with your queenliness, and it won’t help if you’re late.”

  Chapter Three

  I ran a shaky hand through my hair and tried to appear calm, cool, and totally confident as John and Timbago ushered me into the throne room to meet the new ambassador from Bathune—an ambassador who was also most likely a spy for my aunt. My potentially crazy aunt who might be in league with the evil wizard to kill me so they could carve up my kingdom between them. There was no way that this meeting was going to go well.

  “Her Royal Majesty, by the grace of the Pleiades, ruler of all the light touches, the Golden Rose of Nerissette, Queen Alicia the First,” Timbago said loudly. “Long may she reign!”

  John nodded toward Timbago and held an arm out to escort me to my throne. I went with him and took a seat, clearing my throat before I faced…well, no one.

  Huh. That was a bit anticlimactic. Wasn’t there supposed to be an ambassador waiting for me? Or subjects? Someone? Anyone?

  Timbago clapped his hands again and the doors at the other end of the room creaked slowly open. When they had opened all the way, Timbago stepped in front of the dais and raised his chin. “Her Majesty the Golden Rose.”

  His voice echoed through the large, mostly empty chamber.

  Another goblin, one I didn’t recognize, marched through the doorway at the other end of room before bowing low to me, his eyes on the floor. He was wearing a brilliant, emerald-green jacket and matching pants, the bells on his curly-toed shoes clinking against the marble floor. My aunt made her goblins dress up like court jesters with bells on their shoes? As if I needed any more proof that she was evil.

  “His Grace, the ambassador of Bathune—the wizard Eriste, son of the great wizard Entalbe, grandson of the grand vizier Enselm, former apprentice of the vizian Nedras, member of the Grand Order of Dark Wizards, and knight magical of the Order of the Defenders of Bathune, begs audience with Her Majesty.”

  “Wow,” I said quietly. “That’s a mouthful.”

  John lips twitched upward into a tight smile before he brought a fist up to cover it, and Timbago’s shoulders shook for just a split second before he went still. “Enter, and may her wisdom shine down upon you.”

  “Your Majesty.” A tall man in silver robes, his gray hair cropped close to his skull and his blue eyes piercing me from across the room, stepped forward and bowed, waving his hand in front of his body with a flourish. “I am Eriste, ambassador of the kingdom of Bathune.”

  “I am Queen Alicia the First, Golden Rose of Nerissette. Welcome to my palace,” I said, trying to sound formal—more like Amidala from the Star Wars prequels and less like my normal self. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to deal with having a suspected spy in my court.

  “Thank you.” He held his hand
out, palm up, and the air over it shimmered for a brief moment. A picnic basket appeared in his hands, wavering into existence by his magic. “I was wondering if you would care to join me outside for a late-afternoon snack?”

  “Excuse me?” He wanted to do what? Was a spy intent on helping overthrow your kingdom supposed to invite you to lunch first?

  “I remember from my last visit here that your mother was quite fond of picnics. I had hoped you would be as well. Not to mention I know how long royal audiences can be—everyone is always a bit hungry after a long day of dispensing justice.”

  Oh forget it, if the guy really was trying to start a civil war to steal my crown he wasn’t going to be able to do it over a plate of sandwiches. Was he? Besides, I hadn’t had lunch yet and I was starving. And he wouldn’t poison me in front of witnesses—I hoped. “That sounds…very nice. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful. I seem to remember a lovely spot on a hill that allowed us to see the city of Neris below.”

  “That hill is now home to the mermaid embassy,” John said. “Their labyrinth is on that land.”

  “A shame.” Eriste shook his head. “You would have loved it, Your Majesty. Your grandmother always held her parties there.”

  “You could go to the gardens on the western side of the palace,” Timbago said from beside my throne. “The place we’ve cleared for the memorial. I believe the first dryad plantings are starting to sprout there.”

  “Right.” I swallowed as I pictured about the patch of garden we’d set aside for a statue honoring the people who had died to make our kingdom safe. The people like Heidi and Jesse who had been lost because of the Fate Maker’s hate. I’d always thought of it more like a graveyard, but it was pretty in a spooky sort of way. I glanced over at John, hoping he had some sort of advice on the matter.

  “You’re building a memorial?” Eriste raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes,” John cut in, his gray eyes fixed on mine. “The queen insisted on it. A proper tribute to all those in Nerissette who gave their lives to make sure we would no longer live under the rule of a false king or queen. A reminder of the thousands more that would be willing to die to keep this country safe again.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, catching on. Picnicking at the memorial would send a very clear message that we were not going to sit back and be bullied. We weren’t going to roll over and let anyone—not wizards or giants or anyone else—come in here and take our country—or our friends—from us again.

  “And you think the best way to show that is with a memorial?” Eriste asked.

  “We’re putting up a statue to remind people that as long as wizards like the Fate Maker threaten us, we will never truly be safe. That we need to always be ready to fight for our survival,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on his.

  “That’s a rather grim place for a picnic.” Eriste grimaced. “Why not the front gardens instead? Your courtyard is lovely, such beautiful ember fruit trees lining the main drive.”

  “The memorial has a nicer view. You’ll be able to see how well we’re rebuilding Neris. Especially the fort. We’ve done quite a bit of work to make it secure in case the giants come back.”

  “Very well.” Eriste bowed his head as I stepped off the throne and walked toward him. He offered me his arm and I took it as John fell in behind us.

  “I don’t think we need your royal adviser with us.” Eriste glanced behind him at John. “We won’t be discussing trade agreements just yet; this is only a get-to-know-you lunch after all.”

  “The queen goes nowhere alone,” John said, his tone firm.

  “Really?” Eriste looked at me in surprise.

  “We’ve all become a bit jumpy.” I tried to keep my voice light. “Since the regent who ruled during my childhood tried to kill me and all.”

  “By necessity we’ve all become cautious about the Golden Rose’s security,” John said.

  “They even post guards outside my door when I sleep,” I said. “Plus guards around the perimeter of the castle. No one is getting in here. One of my guards will find them, and let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be the bad guy when they do.”

  “Is there still such a great threat to your rule? Now that the Fate Maker’s gone I would assume you could rule in peace. All these precautions shouldn’t be necessary.”

  “The Fate Maker may be gone, but there are other wizards out there who took part in the rebellion against me.”

  “Not all of the wizards fought against you.”

  “None of them fought for me,” I said pointedly.

  “But—” He glanced between me and John, his eyes wary.

  “Some even ran away and hid in the forests so they wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.” I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge me. “They’re a threat.” My free hand lingered on the hilt of the sword hanging from the jeweled belt around my waist. “They’re a threat to me and to my kingdom. Even those who didn’t actively follow the Fate Maker.”

  There, let him think about that for a little bit.

  “Not all wizards are against your rule, Your Majesty,” Eriste said. “I know that I, for one, am happy to see you on your mother’s throne.”

  We made our way out of the throne room and into the wide, marble entrance hall of the castle. Once we reached the back doors, two woodsmen guards stepped forward and opened them for us, their heads bowed as we passed.

  “Thank you,” I said as we entered the patio. I smiled at the head of the woodsmen guard, whose blond hair curled around his ears and gray eyes squinted against the glare of the sun.

  John had suggested that I learn the names of as many soldiers as possible, and give them a brief, polite hello, or make quick conversation when I saw them. Just something to let them know I recognized them as people, not tools to be used to help me stay on the throne. He claimed it made me look friendlier, especially compared to my aunt, who was known to be distant with her subjects.

  “Eamon.” I smiled at John of Leavenwald’s only son and the future head of the woodsmen. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Your Majesty. How are you?” he replied stiffly, his eyes not meeting mine. Which wasn’t that surprising, really. Eamon was always more rigid around me than I understood.

  “Fine, thank you. I’m going on a picnic with the new ambassador for Bathune. Ambassador Eriste, meet Eamon, head of the woodsmen members of my Royal Guard.”

  Eriste nodded to Eamon. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “Eamon, meet the newest ambassador from Bathune, the wizard Eriste.” I tried not to smirk. The few times I’d met John’s son since his arrival at the palace he’d made sure to make clear his absolute hatred for wizards.

  “A wizard?” Eamon’s shoulders tensed as he let his eyes rake over Eriste. “My men and I will accompany you on your picnic with this wizard. Just in case.”

  “That would be great, Eamon. Thanks.”

  He nodded and then followed behind John.

  “Will you be at the ball tonight, Eamon?” I asked over my shoulder as we moved down the wide sloping marble stairs that led from the patio onto the grass.

  “I’ll be on guard, Your Majesty, protecting you from any who wish you harm. Even those who should not.”

  I smiled. Eamon was just the right sort of gung-ho creepy that even if the war memorial and the soldiers didn’t scare the ambassador into good behavior, he might. “Well, let’s hope we both have an uneventful night. Then maybe we could get a dance in.”

  “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Eamon glanced down at me with gray eyes that matched his father’s, something dark and angry flickering in his eyes for just the slightest moment before it disappeared. But that didn’t make sense. Eamon and I had always gotten along okay. Sure, he was a bit stiff and stuffy, but he’d never been mean.

  “I don’t think we need to worry too much about all those old customs, now do we?” I tried to smile at him, even though I knew my lips were barely managing to curl upward. “Besides, what coul
d be more appropriate than a queen dancing with one of her bravest warriors?”

  “A queen who knows her place,” he muttered quietly. I flinched as if stricken. Well, so much for being nice. “At least where those who would harm her can see.”

  “Right.” I nodded and tried not to take it personally. Some people were still having trouble adjusting to a less formal royal court. Eamon was probably just one of them. I followed Eriste off the patio while everyone else, including the rest of the woodsmen guards, shadowed us.

  “It’s lucky that I brought a magic picnic basket,” Eriste said in my ear as we turned toward the west side of the palace. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have enough food.”

  “They won’t eat,” I said. “I mean, one of them may taste any food that you hand to me, but other than that they won’t eat. They say it’s disrespectful.”

  “It is, but royal poison testers?” Eriste raised an eyebrow again. “You are that worried about threats to your throne?”

  “Civil war broke out in the Hall of the Pleiades during my coronation. I think I have every right to be that worried about threats.”

  “Threats from a royal ambassador?”

  “Threats can come from anywhere,” I said sharply. I clutched at my skirt to keep my hands from shaking “I learned that when my own regent raised an army and started a war against me.”

  “I must admit,” Eriste said quietly, “I am curious about what happened that day during the battle. You and the Fate Maker, alone together in a room, battling for control of this world. I have heard that you smashed one of the great relics and then killed not one, but both, of the most powerful wizards who have ever walked in the World of Dreams.”

  “Yes.” I tried not to think about what it had been like, the way the room had seemed to explode as the Mirror of Nerissette was destroyed, blocking off my way home to Bethel Park, Pennsylvania, where my foster mother moved on with her life and my mother still lay ill in a hospital bed. I shook off the reminder.