The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price

by C. L. Schneider

  Without her, there was no air. Only her body could sustain mine.

  I reached for her.

  And an abrupt wave of reason roared across the tether that tied me to Jarryd. His sound mind smacked headlong into my mania with an abrupt jolt of common sense that doused the fire in me.

  Cracks formed in the delusion, and I fell back into reality.

  “I do not tolerate tardiness,” the Queen said then, shrill and sharp. “I expect a full explanation. Unless, you are mute as well as disrespectful?”

  “Your voice,” I said, dumbfounded. “It’s so…cold.”

  “Ian,” Jarryd said. “Maybe this isn’t a good time.”

  “No.” I pried my eyes from her and looked at him. “I’m alright.”

  Jarryd stepped back, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  The Queen looked like she didn’t know what happy was. Glaring up at me, her forehead was so tight I thought it might snap in two. Breath came out of her in quick, angry waves. It hit my bare chest, prompting a physical reaction that was far lower.

  “Not only did you arrive later than anticipated,” she went on berating me, “but your recent street brawl and subsequent injury have caused an unacceptable delay.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

  Somehow, she frowned harder. “I am not ignorant of the rigors of your trip, Shinree. I am merely attempting to convey the urgency of the situation. In the last few weeks Draken has amassed a great army on Kabri’s shores. It is imperative that we strike now, while they are all in one place. And before he can gather more.”

  “How great?”

  “Five thousand.”

  “Damn. I hadn’t expected Draken to have so many men.”

  “They are not all men.”

  “Eldring,” I nodded. “Resurrecting them was a smart move.”

  “Agreed. But we cannot let that cow us. From all across the realm, the sons and brothers of my soldiers have taken up arms. Doratae has sent aid from across the sea. Aldous has brought the Kaelish. Our Arullan allies have just arrived. And with every brave citizen willing to defend their home, we are a respectable number.”

  “Your Grace,” I said formerly, “I believe the Arullans might be deceiving you. Or they simply have a different understanding of the word ally.”

  Gliding gracefully past me to an empty chair near the hearth, Neela sat down. “I suppose politics are not a popular topic of discussion in most Kaelish taverns, so I will educate you.” Back perfectly straight, she smoothed her skirt and folded her hands primly on her lap. “The Arullan government has fractured. The dissension began shortly after my mother died, but it was unorganized. Since Draken’s return, the division has become pronounced and problematic.”

  “The division seems to be centered on my head,” I said dryly.

  “It is true, one faction still seeks retribution for the warriors Arulla lost by your hand. Once a year for the last ten they have sent an emissary to demand your execution.”

  “Maybe the King should have complied and delivered me. That is what he did to my father, isn’t it,” I said, testing her, “dropped him on the doorstep of the enemy?”

  Neela bristled. Though, like I expected, there was no confusion or shock on her face. She knew exactly who my father was. “Are you saying Jem Reth’s confinement was unjust?” she asked me.

  “I’m saying it was lenient. Your father should have hung mine and been done with it. Now, because of his clemency, the job falls to me.”

  Turning slightly toward Jarryd, Neela said, “I would like some tea.”

  Jarryd wavered. He didn’t want to leave us alone. “Yes, my Queen.”

  When he was gone, Neela said, “You and Reth spoke at length?”

  “We did.”

  “But you didn’t kill him.”

  “I had no magic. It would have been a little hard without it.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “I do have questions for him.”

  “His answers would be untruthful.”

  “Probably. But I don’t exactly have anyone else to ask.”

  “You could ask me,” she offered. “Or do you feel I will be untruthful as well?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know you.” It came out more regretful than I intended.

  “Well then,” she said. My tone seemed to confuse her. “I will tell you what I can. About your mother, your father, whatever it is that concerns you. But first, the threat to Rella must be contained.”

  “Fair enough. There is one thing?” I waited for her nod of consent. “What you’ve put together here is impressive, Your Grace. But you’re sending a mishmash of soldiers into battle, most of which have never fought together, have dissimilar fighting skills and different tactics, against the whole of Langor and a powerful magic user. If you don’t have a solid strategy, it will be a massacre.”

  “Are you implying that I am incompetent?”

  “Inexperienced.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re leading them and not me. That is, if you’ve recovered enough to lift a sword. It is considerably heavier than a mug.”

  My jaw tensed. “I think I can manage.”

  “Let us hope that you can. Or I will be forced to exert what little influence I have left to ensure the lives of my people. Not as Queen of Rella, but as wife to Draken of Langor. If that happens, Rella will disappear forever. Draken will look for other kingdoms to conquer. Many more will die. And you, Shinree, will indeed find your head mounted on a mast bound for Arullan waters. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly. But here’s the problem.” I crossed my arms and looked the Queen squarely in the eye. “Draken has been waiting for this confrontation. Reth turned his back and let you sneak out of Kabri. They are no doubt aware of the exact number of your troops and who your allies are. And I am damn certain they know that I am standing right here, right now. They want this,” I said tightly. “Draken and my father want you to make one, last desperate play to regain your throne. They want me and you, and your allies—all their little annoyances—in one place so they can slaughter us.”

  “Then you should be prepared.”

  “Prepared?” I let out a short, scornful laugh and Jarryd’s silent call for caution hit me from the other side of the room. “If you charge across the water and try to take Kabri, one army against the other, you will be calling Draken husband in less than a week. But go ahead,” I gestured at her. “Maybe you like wearing Langorian Red.”

  “That was not a very rousing speech, Shinree. Before you address my army, I suggest you make your words a bit more inspiring. And,” her eyes wandered over me in disgust, “cover yourself the next time you appear before me. I am not some shameless Arullan Warrior anxious to bare herself at the sight of your scars. I am Queen. I hold the key to your freedom. And I am not my mother.”

  I was close to saying something inappropriate when Jarryd came back with the tea. Two cups in his hand, he offered one to Neela, but she shook her head at it. “Attend me, Shinree,” she commanded, rising from her chair. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Neela,” Jarryd said persuasively. “Give him some time. He nearly died.”

  “Silence, Messenger,” she chided sternly. “You have lost the right to address me so informally.”

  Jarryd’s confusion inundated the link. “I don’t understand.”

  Her chin lifted higher. “Your services are no longer required. When this campaign is done you will be relieved of your duty to the realm.”

  “What?” Jarryd balked. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  “There was no offense,” she replied. “It is simply a matter of loyalty.”

  Anger joined his confusion. “You can’t be serious. I would give my life for Rella. For you.”

  “Would you?” Grabbing Jarryd’s hand, Neela turned it over, exposing the marks on his palm. “You are not the same man that pledged his life to my kingdom.”

  “I’m still me
, Neela.” Jarryd yanked free of her. “I would never betray you.”

  “Then tell me,” she demanded, “who comes first? Who would you listen to? Which of us would you save? Me? Or him?”

  “Stop it,” I butted in. “You can’t ask him that.”

  “How can I not?” she shot back. “Just look at what you’ve done to him. He is different, Troy, inside and out. In time, you will change him into someone I barely recognize. Someone who chooses you over me.” Her head shook in an anxious, helpless way. “Don’t you see? Jarryd is as much a slave to you now as your people are to mine.”

  “That is not true,” I argued.

  “You had no right!” she cried out.

  I countered, with a loud, “Would you rather I left him to die?” and the room went instantly quiet. A handful of Rellan guards drew their swords and rushed to flank me.

  “Ian, Neela— please.” Jarryd wedged in between us. “Liberating Rella is what’s important now. Not this.”

  Swallowing, Neela looked at him. “You understand my position?”

  “I do,” he said respectfully. “I know it couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

  “It wasn’t,” she admitted. “But of late, there have been no easy decisions.”

  “Then I won’t make this one any harder.” Jarryd bowed. “I will abide by your command, Your Grace.” He came up and met her gaze. “As I always have.”

  Neela looked a little stunned. Tenderness invaded her round, dark eyes and she more resembled the girl I dreamt of. But the semblance was heartbreakingly fleeing. Tightening her face, her body, even her hands as they clasped securely in front of her, Neela clamped off the emotion like binding a bleeding wound. Then she took her guards and retreated back to the table. Her request for my company was seemingly forgotten.

  “She can’t do this to you,” I said. “It isn’t right.”

  Jarryd gave me one of the cups he was holding. “She’s scared.”

  “Scared of what? Me?”

  “Yes, but not in the way you think. No one talks to Neela the way you just did. Only her father. And he’s gone now.”

  “So, I remind her of her father?” I grunted. “That’s just great.”

  Jarryd’s grin was short-lived. “Aylagar was a strong woman. Neela doesn’t show it, but she’s always been afraid of not measuring up. She’s scared of appearing weak, doing the wrong thing, making the wrong choice.”

  “Like she did just now?”

  “She had her reasons.”

  “Bullshit reasons,” I muttered.

  Jarryd took a long drink. It definitely wasn’t tea in his cup. “I’ve watched Neela shut people out for years.” He gave his half shrug. “It was only a matter of time until it was me.” Jarryd tipped his mug again, vigorously, drowning the resentment and the disappointment. The longing for something he once had.

  Deciding to join him, I threw my tea into the fire and went to find some wine.

  FORTY EIGHT

  What I was doing was wrong in so many ways. Lurking in the shadows, afraid to move for fear of being discovered; the moment was not at all as I imagined hours ago, when I spied Neela retreating to one of the back bedrooms to rest.

  Then, I envisioned her undressing. I pictured her lying in bed, braids undone and clothes off. I imagined I would walk in and find her waiting. She would hold out her arms, pull me down on top of her, and there I would stay until morning.

  Now, standing in her room, uninvited and unannounced, deliberately and stupidly invading the Queens’ privacy, I realized not only was I despicable (and possibly asking for a death sentence) she wasn’t anywhere near naked. She wasn’t even on the bed. Fast asleep, sitting on the floor, facing the open window, her back was pressed against the wooden bed frame, hear head was bowed, and her shoulders slumped.

  It was an oddly casual position. It made the Queen seem downright approachable, and the idea of crossing the room, dropping to the floor and pressing my lips against hers, rational. She might even welcome it.

  I took a step, then another. I took a few more. On step number six, the floor creaked and Neela jumped. Her head shot up. She spun around on her knees, and even with nothing more than moonlight, the accusation was plain in her eyes.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

  “I knocked,” I offered. I thought the lie might make me sound less guilty.

  It didn’t, if her tone was any indication.

  Livid, she asked, “How did you get past my men?”

  “They might have a bit of headache when they wake, but nothing permanent.”

  “I’m glad you restrained yourself.” She stood. “I will require time to deliberate on a proper punishment for your impertinence. For now, I will settle for reminding you that I have a title, and I expect you to use it.” Neela looked down her small nose at me. “Do not assume that because of who your mother was, or because you slept with mine, that you are above showing respect to your Queen.”

  Her coarseness quickened my pulse. “You are not my Queen. Shinree have no sovereign rulers, only masters. Would you like me to address you as such?”

  “I have trouble believing that you, Troy, would willingly call anyone Master.”

  “There isn’t much a Shinree does willingly, Your Grace. The Kayn’l doesn’t allow it. Neither do the chains.”

  “I wasn’t aware you had developed rebel tendencies.”

  “Rebel tendencies?” I laughed. “Because I speak my mind?”

  “Because you speak out of turn. My Shinree know their place.”

  “And where’s that? Locked in a cage, or tied to the foot of your bed?”

  “Whichever you prefer.”

  I had another snappy reply ready to go, but I held back. The resentment flowing through me was irrational and unfamiliar. It didn’t even feel like mine. Because it isn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” I said with sincerity. “This is not me.”

  Nothing moved but a single brow. “Explain.”

  “The spell Sienn used to heal my wound is complicated. It left us…” I searched for the word, “tangled. It should wear off in few days.”

  “I suggest, until it does, you do better to control it.” She drew an impatient breath. “Is there some reason you decided against requesting a proper audience?”

  “I didn’t think you would see me. First impressions aren’t one of my strong points.”

  “Agreed. I suppose this is about Jarryd then?”

  “Jarryd? No.”

  A touch of disappointment alighted on her face. “He didn’t send you?”

  Now I was disappointed. “Jarryd’s been asleep for hours.”

  “I see.” Her expression was thoughtful. “Do you really think me too hard on him? That I was unfair and quick to judge? You may answer freely.”

  “Does my opinion matter?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “If I say you were wrong, will you change your mind about dismissing him?”

  “The decision is made.”

  “Then you’re just looking for validation. Or a fight.”

  She sniffed. “I’m sure I have no idea what that means.”

  “It means, Your Grace, you spend all day hiding behind your forced apathy and your cold formalities. You use them like a barricade. And when it gets so tight inside that you can’t breathe, you look for an argument. You debate with someone, anyone that disagrees with you, so you can let it out. So you have an excuse to feel.”

  “Watch your tongue, Shinree.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind if you use me.” I edged closer. “I’ll be your excuse. Your release.” The curve of her mouth pulled at me. I moved in.

  And Neela’s eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates. “Troy!” she exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry.” I stepped back. “I meant no disrespect. I’m not myself.”

  “I fail to see how a healing can rob you of common sense and decorum.”

  “That’s not it. There are other th
ings going on with me. Things I’ve been trying to deal with, to make sense of and control, but…I can’t.” With that admission, my shoulders suddenly felt heavy, my stomach sick. “I don’t know who I am anymore. My whole life feels like a lie. My choices orchestrated. My desires fabricated.”

  “Is this about Reth?”

  It wasn’t when I came in, I thought. But it certainly all came back to him; my lineage, my connection to the crown, my attraction to her. “Yes,” I said decisively. “Whatever you can tell me about him. About how all this started. How I came to be.”

  “Can this not wait, at least until morning?”

  “No. I need something real. Something true,” I said tightly. “Now. Tonight.”

  Hesitating, Neela regarded me a moment. “Perhaps you should not prize the truth so highly, Shinree. It may not be to your liking.”

  “I pretty much assumed that already.”

  “As you wish, then.” she said, and jumped right into it. “For the last five hundred years, since the fall of your empire, Rella has furthered the Reth bloodline for our own use. Generations of soldiers have been produced, born in captivity, kept in secret with their magic suppressed. Many lived and died without ever having cast a spell. Others were weaned off the Kayn’l, put to use, and drugged again.”

  “You kept us as what…weapons?”

  “Essentially. But you are concerned only with one Reth, are you not?” She waited for me to nod. “When King Raynan, my father, was a young Prince it was questionable whether or not he was meant for kingship. He paid no attention to propriety. He spent considerable time drinking and brawling in unseemly establishments, and generally cared little what anyone thought, most of all his family or the royal court.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed Raynan Arcana had a wild side.”

  “Very. His open affair with his father’s pretty, young, healer, V’loria, earned him the reputation of a Shinree sympathizer. That label was made worse when Reth was weaned off the Kayn’l and they became unlikely companions. Swordsmanship, horses, gambling, all the follies that young men engage in, my father enjoyed, and yours had been denied. So they indulged together. After a while though, Reth began to resent the inequality of their friendship. He found his own free will difficult to accept while surrounded by slaves of his own kind. Living in comfort at the castle caused him great guilt and he started petitioning for better conditions and increased rations at the labor camps. He demanded new laws be enacted against the mistreatment of slaves. Your father tried hard to improve the Shinree way of life, to change things—the right way.”