by EF Joyce
"I would consider it," she said carefully. "But we have a few problems. You've taken possession of Tibre, the province that feeds my empire. I'll need something more concrete than promises if you expect me to ally with you." Don't act desperate. He needs you just as much as you need him. Compromise. Grayna would be proud.
"I see, yes." He murmured, sitting himself down on a pile of scraggly ruins, the black grime somehow falling away from his snow white robes. "I had to take Tibre you see, to get your attention. Now I have a bargaining chip, and a good one. Why else would the Queen of Yeraz, an empire ten times the size of my own little kingdom, pay me any attention? Agree to be my ally and I will send shipments of food directly to your capitol. I am willing to negotiate a cease fire. I'll tell my father I'm getting close to you and feeling out your weaknesses.
"I will send the food first, as a gesture of my good faith. Once you receive it, meet me here once more for your answer. Our only hope is to stand together. So what will it be? Will you be the savior of your people or their destroyer? Think on it, and let us not be enemies, Elixa."
With that the king mounted his white horse and rode off into the gloom. Elixa blinked in the ghostly light, glancing at the ash and bones surrounding her, the twisted black tower hovering in the distance reminding her of her own evil, of all the things she had done. Could she really be the savior of her people?
Or their destroyer?
No, I am not that thing. I am the hero. I am the queen who loves her people and would sacrifice anything for them.
Eide had been trying to entice her with words like savior, but what did he really want? Could he be truthful in his desires to stand against his father and whatever evil he'd unleashed? And why had Sebastian never mentioned a second immortal? Because he hadn't mattered after he'd destroyed him. That was just like her father – smash whatever stood in his way and then pretend it had never been.
If she decided to trust him, the queen could remove the looming threats of starvation, proof of his sincerity arriving in the form of food. And the Ilahi? She would need to question him, see if his story matched Eide's. If Dalga did betray her? Well honestly, what did she have to lose? Refusing the southern king's offer equaled condemning millions to starvation. With her father bent on war, she had to do something, anything. The Queen of Dreams would not allow her people to die. She would take what was offered.
II
Rain beat relentlessly against the warped glass windows. The queen pressed her forehead to the icy surface and watched the frosty green sea roil tirelessly in the unending storm. Despite the constant gloom Elixa loved the storms, the howling wind and incessant rain a comforting, constant backdrop in the chaos of her daily life. Her breath clouded onto the glass, freezing into a still snowflake. Alaric had come through on his promise – that very morning fifteen ships had floated through the foggy air bringing with them enough to feed thirteen of her fifty-two provinces, plus the capitol.
Smart of him to give her exactly a fourth of what she needed. Now she had no choice but to throw in with him, either that or watch the other thirty-nine provinces starve. Elixa had no doubt that he would now ask something of her in return, and she was in no position to deny him. The queen had solved the famine, but she would still have to play out negotiations with Alaric and figure out what to tell her father. Her best option would be to feel him out and determine what he'd do if he did discover her alliance: irrefutable rage, silent diabolical plotting, or logical acceptance.
And Elixa knew better by now than to expect acceptance and logic from her father. He'd lied to her about his past, whatever it was, about there being a second immortal with children just as powerful as she. If she trusted him now, he'd only find a way to twist the situation in his favor, including lying to and manipulating his daughter. But if she kept this from him, he would continue to run the council as if they were still in war. Grayna was on her side, but the Ilahi managed to find ways around gaining council approval for military actions.
Earlier that very day, Grayna had come to her with a grim discovery: every last sorcery student was missing from the school, and apparently had been for five days. Her father had removed them, of course he had, who else could it have been? He'd stationed guards outside so that no one would know they were gone until now, until it was too late. Maybe they would manage to blast through the Bronze Gates and open the way to Tibre for Yeraz's soldiers, but it was a gamble of colossal proportions, one that she would have never taken, especially now.
This is a good thing, the Grand General had assured her. The more blood that stains Sebastian's hands, the easier to remove him from power. The fact that he did this behind the council's back is even better – he's playing right into our hands.
Was every death a chess move, every drop of blood a tally mark in someone's favor? What about those students, some of them not even thirteen, sent to their deaths so that some greedy men could grasp for power? They were the people of Yeraz, many of them the sons and daughters of province representatives, and they deserved much better. If she had been permitted to rule like a true queen, not some figurehead puppet of an immortal mage, this never would have happened. And what about Dalga? How would Alaric view an attack before she had even given him an answer?
Yes, she wanted dominion – to change the world, to make it better, not bleed it dry. Peace was the answer; not war, not death. Elixa would mend the world without spilling any blood. She would play this all out with Eide and then reveal it to her father in the end, once there was nothing he could do, and then she would lock him up where he'd never be able to influence Yeraz again. We'll see how you enjoy being manipulated.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the heavy oak doors of her chambers swung silently open and Sebastian stepped inside.
"Hello, Papa," she greeted.
"You haven't called me that in years," he remarked, standing stiffly in the doorway.
"Sit," she said, moving from the window with its view of the stormy sea and darkening sky to the plush sofa stationed in front of a roaring fire. The evening was quickly waning, giving way to darkness though she had not yet lit the lamps. Shortly they would have only the light of the fire to see by, just like when she'd been a girl and he would tell her stories late into the night. When had she grown up? When had everything changed?
"What do you want, Elixa?" he prompted, sitting down next to her.
"We have been fighting over Yeraz, tearing it apart with our petty disagreements when we should have been united, holding it together," she said. "You and I will give a speech to the capitol tomorrow morning, presenting as a united front. You will give the peace treaty your backing–"
"I will not approve the treaty," he argued.
"Why? Why do you continue to resist the inevitable? Our world needs peace! If I were permitted to rule without your interference, our people would never need fear another war–"
"What is all this about peace? About your people?" he argued, his black eyes blazing. "Do you forget yourself? You are my daughter. You are a scion of war, a conqueror, a destroyer. Remember how those people became yours, remember who you are."
Who I am.
III
Her whole life she had been told, not just by her father but everyone, even her mother, that she would become the Queen of Dreams, that she would be bonded with the Sphere and would have access to magic so powerful she could remake the world if she wished. As a child she had daydreamed about this magic and what she would do with it. At first her wishes were juvenile; to cover the world with flowers, to make everyone happy, to have parties every day. As she grew older and was tutored in the mechanics of her world, of politics, foreign relations, trade and farming, her goals evolved: end hunger, end war, unite everyone under one benevolent ruler (herself) who would provide them with all they had ever needed. Unbeknownst to her, these were the same dreams that had driven her father to power and that kept him working to remake the world.
But after she became queen, nothing was how she'd imagine
d. Confined to the Queen's Tower, her magic limited by the Sphere's will and her time constrained with endless petitions from the people, she could not change the world as she'd once hoped. Other kingdoms fought each other, burned villages and slaughtered entire tribes, regarding any assistance from her as an additional declaration of war. No one wanted her magic, her armies, her help. Rejected again and again the queen nearly abandoned her dream of a changed world, until the wild kingdom of Kotu dared to invade the Yerazi province of Osimiri.
Elixa had been but thirteen, and though terrified of the magic she'd never dared use, of the kingdom that ravaged her people and the possibility of failure, she was also determined.
"What can I do? How can I stop a whole army?" she'd asked, the responsibility overwhelming, the very idea of facing an army on her own more than her young mind could comprehend.
"You have the Sphere," he reminded her. "You can stop them with only a thought." Stop them. He had meant kill them, even if he hadn't said it. Kill them to prevent more from dying, kill them to end the war, spill their blood to prevent more bloodshed. The thought was ironic and counterproductive to everything she'd wanted to accomplish as queen, yet it was true. She grasped the backward logic and knew without doubt they would not stop until she stopped them. That more would die unless she killed them.
She'd looked to her papa for reassurance as the afternoon grew dark, the shadows from the window reflecting in his black eyes, and she saw that same truth there, looking back at her, knowing. His eyes said this will be hard, but you can do it. This will be dark, but it is necessary. A queen must sacrifice for the good of her people.
"Show me how," she'd said, her tiny voice filled with false strength.
He took her tiny hand in his, it was warm and that always surprised her, even as a child. He looked as if he would be cold, like a steel weapon or a dead thing. Sometimes she truly started believing he was frozen, until he reminded her with a touch. "Just focus," he said. "Lay down, close your eyes, just like sleeping." She had.
"Now imagine Osimiri in your mind, just as I describe it. The land is flat and green. Not the pale green of our coastal grasses, but vibrant like the color of your winter festival dress. This green expands for miles, everywhere you look, there is no end to it, or beginning." She had pictured herself standing there in that grass, greener than she'd ever seen in the natural world, a blue sky above her perfect and clear, not a cloud to be found, light in the center and dark around the edges, where the horizon met the grass.
"In the field there stands a castle," he'd said. "Not stone like ours, but wood. Outdoor paths of stone join the sprawled buildings, lined with fountains and spring gardens. Can you see it, Elixa?" She'd nodded, afraid to open her eyes or speak, letting the image flow through her. The little queen could hear it now, the grasses whispering in the gentle wind, the fountains tinkling, the bugs buzzing, the birds singing.
"The castle is there, but distant. It is separated from you by three-hundred Kotu soldiers. They expect to face the Osimiri province army, and they outnumber them three to one. They are prepared to slaughter, to plunder, to murder and rampage. They are lazy and expect an easy fight. But you will not make this easy."
She could feel Osimiri now, the heat of the sun on her cheeks, soaking into her hair, the sounds of birds and water, the scents of new grass replaced with hundreds of stinking soldiers, coughing, breathing, waiting for their leaders' command. Elixa was seconds from her first dream, her power, her birthright. Her papa's voice was fading; "You only have one chance."
One chance or the Sphere would never bring her there again. One chance or their armies would clash, Osimiri would fall and Kotu would rage on, taking even more provinces, more Yerazi lives. She opened her eyes and faced the soldiers, lines upon lines, some on horses, some in makeshift towers, pointing arrows tipped with flame, others with swords and axes, all armored and ready to fight an army, not her, a thirteen-year-old girl in a flowered gown. Terror sliced through her at the sight of the Kotu army. Could she really stop them all? With only a thought? Behind her stood the Osimirian forces, less than half the men and their armor simple leather rather than the plate mail of the Kotu.
They seemed just as stunned by her, a girl standing in no-man's-land, the dead place between two armies, the silence and inaction stretching on and on before someone realized who and what she was.
"Fire!" someone yelled, and the archers did not hesitate. Arrows raced at her, fast as the wind, tiny needles blotting out the blue sky.
Your mind is your weapon, you are the Queen of Dreams. Imagine your world and it will be so.
She imagined a shield surrounding her fully, like a dome, light as air, clear as glass, stronger than steel. The arrows plinked against it, snapping in half and raining harmlessly onto the ground, their tiny flames extinguishing mutely. Elixa stared in awe at the result of her own magic. Resolve turned hard inside her, for the people, she thought, I am your queen and I will protect you. If she could stop a thousand arrows she could stop a thousand men.
They charged at her suddenly, their steps shaking the ground, their roars echoing through her ears, the sight of a thousand men running toward her enough to inspire fear in the oldest and hardest of warriors, and she was just a girl. Frozen she stood, rooted to that green ground, her faith and determination shattered. Panic bloomed in red dots over her vision, threatening to overtake her.
No, I have one chance, one! A deep breath, they were almost upon her. She did not know the face of death, could not picture blood and brutality, so she imagined that they would all simply disappear, be swallowed up by the ground. The dirt beneath them began to rumble, as if an army of beasts lived deep below and were now awakening. The sound expanded into a roar, the world trembling.
The Queen could feel the universe in her mind, the fear and sweat of every Kotu, the awe of every Osimirian, the individual quivers of each blade of grass, the slide of each crumb of dirt. She held the image for as long as she dared, watching as the soldiers mastered their fear of her earthquake and came at her again. In less than a thought, a mere whisper of her mind, the millisecond before her imagination could form an idea, the ground s split in two. A chasm as wide as the lines of Kotu soldiers yawned darkly across the bright green grass, swallowing every last Kotu until only a brown wound remained, a crater in the Osimiri lands.
The magic flooded through her, oh that power. She had just killed a thousand men! She could do anything, there were no limits. Elixa would shape the world with her mind, create it from her dreams, repaint it like her own personal canvas. She would bury every trace of evil, shatter it, squelch it until nothing remained but beauty and kindness, but love and perfection. Elixa could do this, with her power. She was the Queen of Dreams and the world was her dream.
Rain lashed against the ancient windows and thunder cracked over the sea. Elixa stared into the fire until her eyes saw only white. Unblinking, tears dropped silently onto her clasped hands.
"You're right," she told her father. "I had forgotten who I am. I am you." Every dream, every conquer, every murder, every death, she'd tried to push it all away and pretend herself different. Better than she had been; better than he would ever be. "There will be no peace." Between you and I. Between father and daughter, immortal and queen.
I am you. But I can change.
Chapter 9
Rozlyn dreamt the paparazzi was chasing her through Arcadia's imitation marble halls, the dead-eyed stares of their cameras unrelenting, click, click, click, all the way to Faifax's apartment, but they didn't stop there. Pounding on his door they screamed at her, let us in, we know your secret, let us in, let us in!
She woke to a very real pounding on the door, the feather bed poofing out as Faifax got up, donning his Abbascia silk robe on his way to the door, the early morning sun streaming through the clear ceiling. They hadn't closed the sky cover last night, preferring to make love under the stars. Maybe that sounded tacky, but Rozlyn thought it was romantic. Faifax was always romantic, un
like her other boyfriends, who believed saying something like hey baby, imma show you a good time, was a satisfactory precursor to sex.
Sliding off the fluffy bedding, Rozlyn half hid herself behind the wall, peeking surreptitiously into the adjoining room. Partially blocked by Faifax's shoulder, she could spy her brother standing in the doorway, looking serious in his stupid army uniform. She swore he never took that thing off.
"...forty-nine guards and thirty-six elites," she heard Kaelor say. "Shot in their beds. We need to get out there, now." Faifax murmured something inaudibly before closing the door on Kaelor.
"What's going on?" she asked as he reentered the room, tossing his silk robe on the floor and changing into his own army uniform. Unlike her brother, Faifax made the stiff blue fabric and silver zippered atrocity look tough and sexy (it even matched his eyes).
"There's a situation in the Old World," he said, buckling twin handguns into his belt, wearing his war face.
"What's happened?" she pressed, concerned. The Old World was a foreign, violent place where her lover ventured far too frequently for her peace of mind.
"The rebellion they're putting together is getting stronger. They knocked out an entire guard barrack last night, then used the connected tunnel to access the elite barracks. Eighty-five guys, all dead."
"What?" Rozlyn exclaimed, trying to recall everything she'd been told about the Old World. "But the guard is made of Old Worlders, isn't it? I thought they were rebelling against us, not each other? Though I guess they like to kill for no reason down there," she mused, afraid and disgusted. Did those people have no decency, no sense of right and wrong? Were they all just animals tromping around down there; fight, kill repeat?