Heart of Steel

by Samantha M. Derr

  Tom looked disgusted. "Well, you don't have to talk my ear off about legal precedent and political implications all the day long just because she's keeping quiet. So she ran away from the Mheztil. Hell, I would run away from the Mheztil if one was trying to assault me. No offense, Is."

  "None taken." He was not Mheztil, after all. Of course, he was not Maupe, either, or even Skellan. But he was trying to figure out the way of that. Perhaps one day, he would manage it.

  "She irreparably damaged thirty years of treaties," Emery persisted.

  "By getting scared and running off from improper advances? What else would you have had her do? The treaties were already on thin ice, and if anyone further damaged them, it was those damn navigators."

  "The story doesn't make sense."

  "What's to make sense of? The one killed the other and now he's trying to blame my sister to save his own neck. That is all this will turn out to be."

  He looked at Isi as he said it, and Isi felt a flush of guilt. He had been judicious in the story he told Tom, and he knew that Tom knew it, too. But this was not the time or place to unburden himself. He kept his council to himself.

  "I still don't understand how she got to Tempare so fast on foot," Walter chimed in. He'd apparently been thinking hard about this; his eyes were crossed and Isi could well imagine steam spouting out of his ears. "That's dark magic, that is."

  "Four's sake, she's not a wizard. If anything's magic, it's Isi knowing the exact way to go to find her." Tom kicked at Isi's chair. "Well done, my heartless knight. Have I said it enough to you, lately?"

  Which was another way of saying I forgive you. The nest of lies crowded between them, but still the praise felt like balm, and Isi let it settle over him and bring him a measure of peace.

  "Well done," Sol echoed, in toast, and they all raised their glasses high. Sol settled back in his seat. "Princess protection. Now, that's a proper knightly occupation right there. Tom, I don't suppose you can let Katherine or Elinor get into some scrapes for the rest of us to prove our valor, could you?"

  "What of Lys?" Walter added.

  Sol scoffed. "She's what, twelve? No, it doesn't fit the stories until they are grown, Ames."

  "Well, then what of Anne?"

  "As if Anne can't get into and out of her own scrapes. Princesses, Ames. Use your imagination. We can save them from Neydelese pirates, or... or…"

  "Dragons?" Emery suggested, wryly.

  Sol slapped the table. "Dragons! To dragons!"

  "Can all of you please stop suggesting putting my sisters in deadly danger for the sake of your egos?" Tom pleaded.

  "No," Walter teased, and then they were all off, singing some bawdy song about sisters and their misters and the blisters on their hands that had Tom cursing the lot of them.

  Isi knew the song, because he knew every song, had learned them as assiduously as he had learned every Skellan word. But he did not sing, only sipped at his ale and watched the verses go round.

  Under the din, he noticed Tom kicking his chair once more. Tom always did that. Startled, Isi realized for the first time that Tom almost never touched him. He'd throw an arm around Emery every time they met. He'd wrestle with Walter and Sol, or force them into dancing contests. But he never touched Isi lightly, always got his attention by a snap or a call or those playful little kicks.

  Perhaps the princess had been right. Perhaps Tom did know the truth of Isi, after all.

  Perhaps he knew, and loved him all the same.

  Ser Rae of Del

  B.A. Huntley

  When a king died, there were always questions for those in positions of power. The common folk might weep or cheer, but the orchestrators, conductors, and performers of a kingdom were immediately called to the stage. Do not be fooled: a land was ruled by more than just its figurehead. They perhaps had the most power, but if their leadership went against the wishes of too many of these other players, then sometimes a ruler might find themselves replaced.

  And by replaced, one meant killed.

  So when a king died, the first question was this: was this a natural death or has someone interfered? The answer informed the second question: who takes the throne? A king-slayer might not necessarily be punished, but a known one would never survive in power. There were councilors, and they were easily bought by economic powers or other nobility who were fighting their way further up the queue. Most of these players would never become truly relevant to the common folk, and their power only mattered to others in similar positions.

  Despite all these various influences, it usually came down to two strategies: support the current monarch and gain favour now, or pick a correct heir to back and gain greater glory when they took power. And of these candidates, there were usually two: the closest in bloodline and the closest in political station.

  When T'hir of Del died in his sleep, the working classes and minor leisure classes were free to mourn their beloved monarch. But the rest of the kingdom heard the overture. The rehearsals were over and the stage was set. It was time to start the show, whether one was ready or not.

  Sir Rae of the Royal Guard was not politically unaware, even if she had little interest. Recruited as a teenager. she had been loyal to T'hir for well over a decade. He was fair and kind, and she was more than happy to serve beside him. There had been little strife in those years, and she could count the number of battles she had been in on one hand. She worked mostly as a bodyguard and a champion in tournaments. T'hir confided in her, certainly, but nothing of great consequence. He had been mostly liked by the people and was lenient against any rebel or criminal who surrendered to him. He promised all who came to his gates that they would receive justice. He had no foreign enemies, as Del had been a minor part of the greater Empire for centuries and his army was strong enough that no other country would be interested in invading them. So when he died, it was suspected that one of his heirs or other rivals had arranged for him to be poisoned.

  Rae doubted it, however. T'hir had been a little younger than sixty and his own father had died at sixty-two of heart failure. For T'hir's heart to give out in the night was not shocking to her. It was a good death, really, and one she was relieved her ruler had received. Even if she believed someone had assassinated him, her duty was clear. All those of the Royal Guard were sworn to protect the queen until her rule was officially proclaimed valid, and then they would serve her as they had the king. It would have been her instinct regardless. She had sworn her sword to T'hir, but she had sworn her heart to his queen.

  It was why she was dragged into this political nonsense. For six years, she had been the queen's lover. It was not a very well-kept secret. T'hir knew. T'hir was actually quite happy about it. Kica had been nineteen when they wed and T'hir fifty-three. He had been married once before to the love of his life, when he was still a prince, but his adored wife died giving birth to a blue child, one who did not survive the womb. In the twenty years since, he had been pressured to marry and produce a living heir.

  He had agreed to the match when Kica came of age. She was from a good family with great wealth. She was beautiful, sweet, and well-liked by the people, even those who still mourned Princess Mie. Kica came from the neighbouring nation of Saril, a trading partner with whom they had no guarded borders. Rae had been part of the entourage to bring her safely to Del and was charged with her protection once arriving at the castle. They had soon fallen in love.

  That was a phrase that conveyed so much with so few words. Rae loved her and was loved in return. They were young, so young, and they grew together. They shaped each other, formed the other in their ideal image. Kica made Rae a valiant knight, brave and fearless, a defender of the common people. Rae made Kica a queen worthy of dying for. Their legends began because the other loved them.

  T'hir was pleased. He wanted his bride to be happy and knew his heart was not healed enough to love another, especially one so much younger than him. But despite their attempts, Kica never bore him a child. She was mostly indiffe
rent to T'hir and was almost amused by Rae's devotion to him. Kica treated him well and did her duties but ignored him unless she was needed.

  When T'hir died, there was no question in Rae's heart of who she needed to support, even if the Royal Guard was meant to be apolitical. Some of them openly backed the other candidate, T'hir's younger brother, Elum. Elum was fifty-one, unmarried, but had been involved with various women over the years. He was tolerable by reputation, but Rae had rarely dealt with him. He would be fine as a ruler, but it would be easier for Del if Kica remained in power. And selfishly, Rae knew that if Kica were deposed, she would be sent home to Saril. Of course she wanted Kica to remain queen, and besides wanting to be with her love, she had made a promise to T'hir to protect her. It was a different love, but she had loved him too.

  On the dawn of the second day after T'hir's death, Rae was called to the queen's chambers. The queen's quarters were across the gardens from the king's, in the space of almost a little cottage. Completely separate, but still elegant and regal.

  Rae went in her lay clothes and her hair loosely braided down her back. Rae did not really enjoy wearing a dress, but Kica loved her in them, loved seeing how soft she could be outside her armour. It only made Rae feel weak. It made her feel wrong. At first, she thought she did not want to show herself as vulnerable to the woman she loved, but in time, she realized that was not the issue. Rae was the knight her queen needed, the one she desired and longed for. And that knight was unquestionably female.

  Kica's handmaidens were preparing a bath for their queen but had left tea and baked goods on a table for Rae. All four handmaidens were quite fond of Rae, and the youngest, Beth, had a bit of a crush on her. Rae ate, trying to encourage them not to fuss over her. They finally dispersed as Kica entered the room in her bathrobe.

  Even in mourning, she was terribly beautiful. Fair skin, soft and cool as cream. Long blonde hair, full pink lips, crystal blue eyes, and just the lightest freckles on her cheeks. Rae stood and bowed. Kica sat and they drank their tea in silence until the bath was ready.

  Kica led her into her own private space and disrobed, the white silk robe pooling around her feet. She stood before her naked, blushing. Rae kissed her lightly before Kica slid underneath the scented bubbles. Rae sat on the floor just behind her, leaning over her shoulder.

  "How are you?" Rae asked.

  Kica murmured, "Better. My bloods have stopped, though the pain is still there. My handmaidens have cleared the sheets. It should buy a little more time. As long as they believe I could be with child, I will have the advantage over Elum."

  "That only gives you a few weeks."

  "It will be enough for what I have planned, I hope."

  "What can I do to help you, my queen?"

  Kica turned to face her, the water splashing. She looked deep into Rae's eyes and asked, "Do you love me?"

  Rae chuckled. "Of course."

  "Would you steal for me?"

  "Any bauble you wished."

  "Would you lie for me?"

  "If I weren't so bad at it."

  "Die for me?"

  Rae admitted, "In a heartbeat."

  "Kill for me?"

  Rae hesitated and asked, "What is your plan exactly, love?"

  "T'hir confided with me a few months ago. After Mie passed and before we wed, my husband had other lovers. Not many, but a few. I imagine he told you this. He shared everything with you. It's possible you even met one of them."

  "I never did, no. But yes, I did know of them."

  Kica continued. "He believed he may have sired children, though he was never sure. If there were any, they could be anywhere from seven years of age to twenty. I have a list of his five mistresses, but I believe Elum may have it too. T'hir always shared far too much with his brother, and it is possible he trusted us both."

  Rae whispered hoarsely, "If you are asking what I fear you are—"

  "Oh no, Rae. I am not looking to harm a child, though I fear Elum might. I don't know his strategy, but I know mine. Any child under twelve I could easily adopt, and I would serve as regent for them. Even an elder child would do, but it would be less simple. A grown man could serve as stud to me and either he or a woman could be used as leverage to those hoping to marry into the royal line. They are simply tools, valuable tools that I have no interest in my rival using against me."

  Kica touched her hand. "I trust you, more than anyone else in this world. Go in your armour, show all that Sir Rae of the Royal Guard is among them. Your face is known and you are admired. People will trust you and we must use that to our advantage. You must move quickly, Rae, before Elum realizes what I intend to do. Please, love. You knew my husband best, loved him best. I believe you would recognize his child. Find them and bring them to me."

  "Will you be safe?"

  "I will be fine," Kica promised. "Go while they think you are in my bed. Every moment counts, love. Go fast."

  *~*~*

  Rae rode out of the castle alone. She wore only her light traveling leathers instead of her full war gear. The list was folded into her shirt, just against her heart. Five women's names, approximate dates, and locations. Four of the five women were brewers. It seemed T'hir had a type.

  The first two lived in the capital and it was not difficult to find them. The most recent affair had been in her mid-forties at the time and her youngest child was already a carpenter's apprentice. The conversation was not a long one.

  The second was a seamstress who had married soon after her relationship with the king, who had invested in her tailor shop. She had become pregnant with the king's child but miscarried in the second month. She now had two lovely boys who instantly recognized Rae from the Farrow Games and made her have tea-sup with them. Rae didn't mind. A meal was always welcome before hitting the road.

  The third mistress owned an inn further along the King's Road, a few hours south of the capital. Rae reached the inn by nightfall and rented a room. In the morning, she met with the owner, a bubbly woman now in her forties. She was married and while she did have children, both of them were adopted from her husband's previous marriage. The mistress openly shared that she had not been born with the organs needed to carry a child. The innkeeper was very kind and packed her a large lunch for the next part of her trip.

  Rae almost felt guilty. Her queen had sent her on a dangerous quest and she had spent the last two days being entertained by pleasant, honest woman who kept feeding her. Still, there were only two more opportunities, and it was likely that Rae was going to come home empty handed. She had kept the two earlier affairs for last, as both of their locations were furthest from the capital. But it was wise not to tarry. From the dates that T'hir had shared with Kica, if there were any children from these women, they could be anywhere between fourteen and nineteen years old. Being so grown made them ever so much more dangerous in Elum's control.

  Unfortunately, they lay in two entirely separate directions. One was in Borroway, a two-day journey on horseback towards the west towards the Saril border. The other was in Kestle, a port city on the eastern coast. Rae was forced to make a difficult decision and she could delay it no longer. When the road split, she went with her instinct and headed towards the sea. From there, she could take the river to Borroway and get there faster than she could on horse. It was a risk, but either option was.

  *~*~*

  After such a positive experience with Hayda the Innkeeper, Rae found herself disappointed both in her accommodations and in trying to find the second-earliest mistress. She had come to a tavern just outside the city of Kestle, where T'hir had mentioned spending three nights with a brewer's assistant named Mivea. The owner of the Gillyfish was a skinny rail of a man, maybe in his early forties. He had a face that could have been handsome if it stopped sneering for a few minutes. Hayda had made her feel like a guest of honour, and after two nights sleeping in ditches, Rae just wanted a nice warm bed and a pleasant smile.

  Instead, she had a man with little patience and much disdain
for her. He glared at her, still cleaning his bar as she tried to find out where Mivea might be now.

  "Do you think I remember every tramp who ever worked for me? Fifteen years is a long time, girl. And do you know how many women are named Mivea in this county? Five in twenty, at least."

  Rae sighed. "I suggest you try to remember, sir. It's important. She would have been about twenty-five. Brown hair, grey eyes. Came from Peal."

  "It vaguely rings a bell," he admitted. "We don't get a lot of people from Peal down here. I think I might remember the girl. Fifteen years ago? I think there was an assistant who was staying there. Mivea could have been her name, I don't know. Most of our girls stay with us for a few years, but she was only here for a few months. In the winter, I think. A mouse of a thing. Quiet for a brewer—they're always a loud bunch. I had to ask her to leave. I run a respectable business and I need only the best, people who make us look good."

  "You said she was quiet. Why did you ask her to go? What did she do?"

  He shrugged. "She was pregnant. I'll have no unwed girl serving the ale around here. Bad luck for one and it turns the customers off."

  Rae's heart stopped. "Do you know where she went?"

  "How the hell should I know? I did well just remembering that. I'd guess Kestle just because it's close and the Guild's there, but that was a decade and a half ago. Could be anywhere now."

  Rae put her coin on the table. "Thank you for your time."

  "Now wait, what's this all about?"

  Rae didn't answer, practically running out the door. The Guild would have her registration papers and she might be able to find a Mivea with a listed dependent around that age.

  Her instinct was right: she was about to find the king's heir.

  *~*~*

  Lilah's mother had always told her that where there was water, there was gold, and Kestle was surrounded by the damn stuff. Her mother had meant fresh water and literal gold. The gold rush had been over for a decade, even if most of the prospectors running around hadn't accepted it. But where there was disappointment, there was a need for booze, so Lilah had struck it rich anyway.