The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Most of what I related the queen already knew, but she nodded, checking things off against the list she carried in her head.

  “Were you awake all night?” she asked when I finished, taking me by surprise. It never paid to forget her warrior’s instincts—and how much she loved the unexpected attack.

  “Finishing this missive and a few other things, yes. I’ll grab a nap after you adjourn court this afternoon.”

  “I thought you just offered to go over Rayfe’s new demands then.”

  “After that,” I amended.

  She gave me a long look.

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s usually my line,” she said with wry amusement. “And it’s a lie when I say it, too. I’ll ask again. What troubles you?”

  I fumbled for a reply. As well as I knew Ursula—distantly all her life and more recently, in closer quarters, through serious trials—I never kidded myself that I was anything near her equal. She was High Queen and she had far more important concerns than my personal issues. I’d sworn not to tell her about Andi’s vision. More than that, I trusted Andi’s judgment that it wouldn’t help Ursula to know. But how to give her a satisfying answer that wouldn’t sound like another prevarication?

  “Nothing troubles me on the scale of the problems we’re facing, Your Majesty. You were the one to emphasize that we’re too busy to worry about less important things.”

  “And you corrected me that priorities sometimes should be revisited.” She sheathed her sword. “You know, you’re valuable to me. Have been to all of us through all that’s happened. In the past few days, I’ve come to appreciate that even more. There are not many people who will look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Not wrong, Your Majesty. I only mean to—”

  “I don’t mind being wrong. And stop trying to make this a formal conversation. I consider you a friend, and it’s been pointed out to me, by more than one person, that I don’t have many and so should make an effort to be good to the ones I do have.” She grimaced ruefully. “However, I’m the first to admit that I have little practice and probably zero skill at it. So help me out. Tell me what I can do for you. How can I make things better for you?”

  “Better . . . for me?” I couldn’t imagine. It would be easier to go back to the endless task list.

  “Dafne. These past weeks haven’t been easy and they’re not likely to get better anytime soon. I need you, but I can find a way to get by without you. You don’t have to stay here. Uorsin’s gone. You have no reason to be loyal to Ordnung or the High Throne—and good reason not to be.”

  Everything clarified then. “Harlan said something to you.”

  To her credit, she didn’t wince, simply met my gaze with calm and clear understanding. “You didn’t tell him not to and he felt I should be aware.”

  I struggled with that. It was true that I hadn’t thought to tell Harlan not to mention the long conversation we’d had when he escorted me from Annfwn to Ordnung. The Dasnarian former mercenary, for all his threatening bulk, had a way of worming confessions out of a person. The tradition he followed, the skablykrr—both philosophical and martial—included the tenet that internal wounds harmed a warrior as much as or more than external ones. He possessed an uncanny knack for sniffing them out, including my own, which I normally never discussed, asking in such a way that I’d actually answered, telling him my sad and sorry tale.

  “I regret that I never thought to ask you about it,” Ursula continued when I couldn’t muster a reply. “All my life, you were always around. Though I knew on one level that you’d survived the fall of Castle Columba at Uorsin’s hands, I didn’t give it more thought than that. I’m ashamed of that blindness and I apologize to you.”

  “You had plenty of your own concerns,” I managed, quite overcome. So odd how the pain you easily ignored became overwhelming when another offered sympathy. Ursula had always borne the brunt of Uorsin’s rages—and possibly far worse. I’d sometimes wondered but had so little power that I stopped there. It hadn’t been my place. My own kind of willful blindness.

  “What do you want out of life, Dafne?” she asked then, looking into me nearly the same way Queen Andromeda did. Andi had followed in her sorceress mother’s footsteps, but at these moments, I wondered how much of Ursula’s uncanny insight into people and politics came from a touch of Salena’s magic.

  “This.” I gestured with the scroll. “I wanted Uorsin gone, Salena avenged, and a good monarch on the High Throne—you.”

  “And now that you have that?”

  Not an easy answer. I’d formed this ambition the moment Ursula had been born, when Salena had handed the indignant baby to me and told me I held the future High Queen. When Salena said things like that, you knew they would come true. It had given me a kind of hope, to channel all that rage and grief over the loss of my family, the outrage of seeing Ordnung built on the bones of my family’s home, to imagine their destroyer dead and good coming out of all that death. But then, perhaps hope is simply the absence of despair.

  “You told me once that you still see Castle Columba when you look at Ordnung. That you returned with me from Windroven because you felt you owed me.”

  “Well, that and my deep agenda to see you on the throne, which didn’t seem appropriate to mention at the time.” I tried to make it a joke, but that didn’t divert her either. She possessed an excellent memory and, now that Harlan had directed her attention, wouldn’t let this go. “I couldn’t stay at Windroven, couldn’t stomach yet another siege and occupation. I didn’t care to contemplate how I might have fared at Old King Erich’s hands. My place is at Ordnung and I’m fi—I don’t need you to do anything for me. I should go copy this. The messengers are waiting. We’ll both be late for court.”

  She didn’t move. “They won’t start without us and the messengers can wait a bit more. That has been pointed out to me, also, that a benefit of rank is letting go of some concerns.”

  “You have rank, Your Majesty. I am only as good as the work I do.” I tried to pull back my too-sharp words, but Ursula grinned.

  “Aha. There you are—the Dafne who doesn’t fear speaking her mind. I’ve been giving it thought. Another thing I never questioned before. Why did Uorsin keep you, out of all your family?”

  The weariness of the night shadowed me and I could hardly bear the rise of old grief at her question, on top of my sudden, strange burst of jealousy and longing for something I’d thought I’d long since resigned myself to not having. Ursula would not release me until she’d satisfied herself, however.

  “Because I was the only one left.” It felt terrible to say. A final truth.

  Ursula, however, waved that off. “That might be true, but it’s not why he kept you. We both know my late, unlamented father was not a man or a ruler to give succor to anyone not useful to him. It would have been more in character for him to have you killed.”

  She was right about that. “I think . . . Salena intervened? I stayed with her, in her tent at first. She . . . helped me.” A cool hand on my forehead, disbursing the crowding nightmares. Other things. So long ago I barely remembered. Had she called me dragon’s daughter?

  Ursula nodded thoughtfully. “I could see her doing that. She had a fondness for children, even beyond the high value all Tala place on the young. It’s possible she saw you as an adoptive daughter. Uorsin owed her greatly for her role in helping him win the war.”

  She didn’t have to mention Salena’s role in bringing down Columba, or that she might have been expiating her guilt by saving me. The words hung unspoken in the air.

  “It’s more likely, however, that she convinced him of your usefulness in some way. I wonder that he never married you off. As a ward of the Crown, you could have been used to cement alliances. You count as part of the High King’s family by law.”

  “But not in fact. A marriage to me would have cemented nothing, as Uorsin cared nothing for me and all knew it. In point of fact, he did attempt to arrange se
veral marriages for me. All unsuccessful.”

  She tapped her hilt, both satisfied and irritated by that. “An odd comfort that I can still predict him that well, though I don’t recall those conversations.”

  “It was in my later teens, around the time you were named heir, but before you were heavily involved in discussions like that. Back then I at least had a measure of nubility and potential fertility to commend me to my future in-laws, though clearly not enough for them to commit to an offer.”

  “That was—a bad time for me,” she admitted, the ghost of old pain darkening her eyes. She shook it off. Hesitated. “This is somewhat more delicate, but I need to know. Did you wish to marry?”

  “To the men Uorsin proposed? No.” Being young, I’d idealized the fantasy. Marrying nobility and going off to some castle, escaping my tenuous, half-alive existence at Ordnung. Until I met some of my prospective grooms—and their arrogance—and had realized that I would be still little better than a servant in those places, too. Only with a fancier title and likely more rules to follow. “And once it became clear that I would not be useful, Uorsin forgot about me and I gained the freedom to study as much as I liked.”

  “And also to find someone of your own. In his forgetting, you could have married,” Ursula prodded.

  “I never met anyone I liked enough to marry.” Or even spend time with. It had always been easy to decline the rare offers. To stay safe and quiet instead. “Like you, I’ve been busy with other things.” My morning for saying the wrong thing, no doubt due to missing sleep. “That is, until you—”

  “Met Harlan? An extraordinary development, true. And, as you witnessed, not something that was easy for me to adjust to. It still isn’t, to be honest.” She hesitated over something. “It wasn’t all being busy for me. I hope there isn’t . . .” She trailed off, uncomfortable, and I shared her embarrassment. Both of us so private and protected, in our different ways. She, as always, possessed more courage than I and forged on. “This is more Harlan’s area of expertise than mine, but he seems to think I should be the one to talk to you. I have an idea of what it’s like to take refuge in being busy, focusing on the goal and telling myself that I didn’t need, well, human connection.” She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Harlan would laugh at me for avoiding using the word ‘love.’ But that’s part of it. It takes courage to let another person in, to let them love you. More to open up enough to allow for the possibility of loving in return.”

  I couldn’t quite believe that Ursula—prickly, contained Ursula—was saying these things to me.

  She shrugged, a wry smile for my consternation. “The look on your face. I’m trying to tell you that it’s worth it, opening yourself to that experience. Even with the fear that you will lose it again. People die. They leave. Sometimes fail to love you enough.”

  Sorrow and—yes—fear lodged in my throat. “No one could love a person more than Harlan loves you.”

  She nodded slowly, then tapped her temple. “I know that here.” She put her fist over her heart, an echo of the Hawks’ salute. “But I don’t always feel it here. I think that it’s as if the emotional wounds leave scar tissue that keeps us from being able to feel like normal people do.”

  “But you love Harlan. You feel that. I can see it in you.”

  “No, I don’t always feel it. Not like the poets describe. I know that I love him mainly because I know I wouldn’t want to live if he didn’t. I’d far rather die than attempt to survive him.” She smiled wryly and rolled up her eyes at some memory. “Unfortunately, he feels the same way, so we’ll either be racing each other for the privilege of dying first or we’ll have to find a way to go together.”

  It helped to laugh at that, to break some of the discomfort of her confessions.

  “The point is, Dafne—I don’t want to hold you back from seeking your own happiness.”

  “You’re not. I have the ear of the High Queen of the Twelve—I mean, Thirteen—Kingdoms. What could make me happier than that?”

  “And her friendship,” Ursula said in a serious tone. “I want you to remember that, especially as I’m not always good at showing it. You’ve been assiduous in pointing out the precedents we’ve established in declaring Annfwn an independent ally, justified by Andi’s marriage, and that prospective suitors will likely look to widowed Ami to gain the same status. Has it occurred to you that you are also eligible to cement a similar alliance?”

  It hadn’t. I gaped at her, fumbling for words.

  “That’s right. And this time it would be different because the person who will be wearing the crown cares for you deeply. It won’t take the rest of the world very long to figure that out.”

  “Are you offering me an arranged marriage?”

  “There have been leading questions. No outright offers, but I need to know if that’s something you even want to consider.”

  I stared at her, completely dumbfounded.

  She shrugged and grinned. “Take some time to absorb the possibility. I’m telling you that you have options. More than most. You can pick the life you want. If I can provide something for you, I will.”

  “A Dasnarian prince of my very own?” I teased her, wanting her off the topic of being concerned for me, for both our sakes, regretting the words as soon as they escaped my mouth.

  The fact that Harlan, who’d always presented himself as a humble merc and captain of his own fighting force, the Vervaldr, turned out to be the youngest of seven brothers in the Dasnarian ruling family had caused more than a little trouble. We’d counted ourselves lucky that Dasnaria was far away and had never bothered with our part of the world. With the exception of the Vervaldr and the late Illyria, a priestess of Deyrr who’d seduced Uorsin, our last contact with the Dasnarian Empire went back centuries. Hopefully it would stay that way, as we did not need any other challenges at the moment. Though Andi’s foresight warned otherwise.

  “Harlan does have six brothers.” Ursula smiled and relented, turning at last in the direction of her rooms, finally ready to release me from the uncomfortable inquisition. “Surely one or two remain available. Perhaps the Dasnarians will contact me with leading questions.”

  As if summoned by her words, Jepp, leader of the Hawks’ scouts, came skidding up, out of breath. She looked much better than she had for a while there, the waxy-pale quality gone from her brown skin and her usual vitality restored. Uorsin had nearly gutted her in that final battle, and though she’d benefited from magical healing, it had taken her a while to completely recover from coming so near death. Not much taller than I, she probably outweighed me substantially, all in muscle. With large, dark eyes in a high-cheekboned face and her deep-brown hair in a short pixie cut, she looked like a fairy-tale creature. One that could slice you open before you saw her move.

  Normally she had an easy smile and faster jest. Instead her expression communicated urgency, even alarm. A chill of prophecy crawled over my scalp. Ursula went on instant alert, hand going to her sword. “What?”

  “Your Majesty—some of my scouts have returned with news.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You should hear for yourself. They’re waiting in your rooms. I think Captain Harlan should hear this as well, but that’s your call. Maybe you won’t want him to know.”

  Harlan. Dasnarians. It was happening.

  Ursula was already striding in that direction. “Don’t play coy, Jepp. Spill, and then I can hear it again in detail.”

  I had to break into a jog to keep up with their long-legged pace.

  Jepp huffed her unhappiness at the news she bore. “Suffice to say that, unless there are Vervaldr in Elcinea, there’s a Dasnarian army headed this way.”

  2

  Though I’d nagged and cozened Ursula into taking over some of the late king’s meeting rooms and council chambers, she still preferred to use her private rooms to confer with her Hawks. For once I was glad of it. My thoughts piled on top of each other in distressing disorder. So much to deal with, at lea
st in my aegis. Those who’d opposed Ursula taking the High Throne would be the first to attempt to use this against her. This kind of news, so early in her new and tenuous reign, had to be kept quiet as long as possible.

  Which would likely not be long at all.

  The two Hawks scouts, whose names I didn’t know, which meant they were long-range scouts who hadn’t ridden with us on my travels with Ursula, came to their feet as she entered. Dusty and road worn, they clasped their fists over their hearts. Harlan stood nearby, hair damp from bathing, wearing clothes he’d changed into for court. Not his Vervaldr regalia, nor the uniform of Ordnung’s guard. None of us had been able to decide how he should be presented, except that he shouldn’t be either of those things, yet he couldn’t be her official consort either. Ursula continued to be irascible and her most stubborn on the topic, and the whispers had yet to rise to the level of a real problem, so I’d let the issue rest.

  In the absence of clear direction, he’d taken to wearing a variation on what he’d worn in Annfwn, leather vest over a sleeveless white shirt, black pants, and boots. With his broadsword strapped to his side, he looked both barbaric and obscurely comforting, someone you could count on for protection. He returned Ursula’s inquiring glance with a bare shake of his head. No, the Hawks wouldn’t have spoken to him without Ursula’s express permission.

  “High Queen.” The male Hawk bowed deeply and cocked an eyebrow on the side of his face away from Harlan. “We have news.”

  “If it involves Dasnarians, then Captain Harlan in particular should hear this,” she asserted without equivocation.

  Puzzlement creased Harlan’s brow, a rare expression of surprise. “Dasnarians?”