The Reluctant King

by Jill Williamson

  Mielle laughed. “I suppose we are, aren’t we? Why did you not go to the roof with the other boys?”

  “The duke dislikes me.” Porvil glanced at his hands. “Because I’m an orphan.”

  Fire shot through Mielle’s chest. Surely that could not be true. The duke taught dozens of orphaned children each day.

  Trevn’s concern quested toward her. “I am well, Trevn. Sorry to frighten you.”

  Porvil went on. “No matter what happens here, the duke blames me. The little boys talk and make mischief with Master Grayson, and the duke scolds me, makes me apologize, and I’m punished for the rest of the week. And that’s not the worst of it.”

  Mielle could not believe this. Why would the duke hold such a prejudice against this young man?

  “Is there a problem, Porvil?” Empress Inolah approached. She folded her arms and gave Porvil a raised eyebrow.

  “No, Empress.” Porvil sat back on the bench, picked up his stylus, and pulled his wax tablet toward him.

  “It is wonderful that Duke Canden takes the elder boys to the roof,” Empress Inolah said, “but I often struggle to give enough attention to his other students while he is away.”

  “Why doesn’t he find himself an assistant to teach the boys while he is gone?” Mielle asked, still watching Porvil, who was now dutifully writing on his tablet. “He should not abandon you with everyone.”

  “Oh, we had assistants in here before, but the rosâr has had to call them away on other errands. I’m sure they will return when they can. I wonder if you ladies might be willing to read with some of the younger boys who have finished their assignments?”

  “I would love to!” Mielle said.

  “And I,” Zeroah added.

  “Wonderful. Let me introduce you to some of the children.” She walked toward the front row of boys. Mielle and Zeroah followed, but Mielle glanced back at Porvil. The young man looked so forlorn. She would find him later and hear the rest of his story. She had made it her mission to make sure every orphan in Armanguard was provided for, but she could do little to fight against the prejudice of others. If the Duke of Canden had treated Porvil unfairly, he would regret it.

  That midday, Mielle sat in her apartment with Abree, sewing dressing gowns for some of the young orphan girls and thinking of Porvil, the boy who had accused Duke Canden of wrongdoing. When she had looked for the young man after class, he had already gone. Bero was dispatched to fetch him but returned to say that Porvil had left the castle. Mielle had no idea why he would go into the city. According to Empress Inolah, Porvil had been apprenticed in the kitchens, but Bero said the cook had not sent him on an errand.

  A knock sounded on the door. Lady Pia opened it, revealing Grayson. The usual crowd lingered behind him on the landing.

  “Grayson, come in,” Mielle said. “I’m surprised you did not voice me and appear here when you received my summons.”

  “Jhorn says it’s rude to do so when it’s not an emergency, and since Master Tonis didn’t say it was an emergency, I figured walking to the door was probably best.”

  “You were very kind to take such precaution. Please, sit down. Lady Abree, would you wait outside with Lady Pia and Master Bero? We will not be long.”

  Abree nodded, and she and the guards let themselves out. Grayson sat on the edge of the longchair Abree had vacated and folded his hands in his lap, looking uncomfortable.

  Mielle smiled warmly and did her best to set him at ease. “I am glad you came,” she said. “We spent so much time together aboard the Seffynaw on our way back, but now that we have returned to Armanguard, I rarely see you.”

  “Jhorn keeps me busy. And the king too.”

  But not busy enough, if Trevn’s stories of Grayson’s exploits were to be believed. “I do hope you are not overloaded, for I had hoped to ask you a favor.”

  Grayson leaned forward. “I’m happy to do anything for my queen.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Mielle said. “I cannot stop thinking of the orphaned Puru children that were given to the Jiir-Yeke giants. I want to know what happened to them and what the giants do with the people they take.”

  “But we know that already. Conaw said they sacrifice them.”

  Mielle shuddered at those ugly words. “Yes, but to what? Or to whom? And how soon?”

  “I asked Muna about it once,” Grayson said. “She says it’s the Jiir-Yeke’s way of keeping peace, though she doesn’t support it. She said a guilty heart finds no peace.”

  “She sounds very wise.”

  “She is. She also said there’s one person who might know for certain how the sacrifices began.” And Grayson told Mielle all about someone called Tuwa, the eldest matriarch of all the Puru tribes, who lived in a place called the elder village. “Tuwa is in charge of remembering the history of her people. If anyone knows why the Jiir-Yeke make sacrifices, it would be her.”

  “Could you find this elder village?” Mielle asked.

  “Maybe. Muna said Tuwa lives in the north with those who no longer follow the herds. Once a month, each Puru tribe takes a tribute to her village to thank her and the other elders for their years of remembering. The elders survive on their tributes. Next time Muna’s tribe goes, maybe I could go too?”

  “That would be perfect,” Mielle said. “If we could discover the motivation of the giants, we might find a way to stop them. But I also want to know what happened to the children they took away. Are they all dead? Or is there any chance of rescuing them?”

  “I could try to find out,” Grayson said. “I could go where you last saw them, then track them from there.”

  “That sounds dangerous.” Trevn would not like it if Mielle put Grayson in danger.

  “It wouldn’t be, not if I went through the Veil where no one could see me.”

  Hope welled in Mielle’s chest at the very idea of finding those children. “Only if you are certain it is safe.”

  “I am positive, Your Highness. Nothing will happen to me. I promise.”

  “Very well. Find out what you can about the children, and look for the elder village too. The more we find out about all of this, the better chance we have at setting it to right.”

  Grayson departed, and Abree and the guards returned. Abree settled back into her chair and picked up her sewing.

  “How many gowns will we sew, Your Highness?” Abree asked.

  “As many as needed,” Mielle said, picking up on a hint of annoyance. Abree reminded Mielle of her sister Amala, but while her honor maiden might hint at displeasure, she never outright complained.

  “I was nobly born, you know,” Mielle told the girl. “My parents died when I was little. My sister Liviana had married Sir Kalenek, and they took in Amala and me. And after Liviana died, Kal kept us. It would have been easier for him to put us out. But he kept us. One person caring is all it takes sometimes, to change an orphan’s whole life.”

  Not that it had done much for Amala.

  “I think that’s lovely, Your Highness,” Abree said.

  “Yes, well, I can only help the children I know of.” And Arman had specifically laid those Puru orphans on her heart. Too many nights she had awakened with them on her mind. Such vulnerable dears, and she could do nothing but pray they would live long enough for Grayson to find them. Only then could she do anything to help.

  “Barek Hadar loves the idea of holding court on the barge,” Mielle told Trevn that night as they lay in bed.

  He was silent for a moment, then his deep voice came from the dark. “That does not surprise me.”

  Tension grew between them. “Why are you angry?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re lying. I can feel it.”

  “I’m not angry at you. It’s about something else.”

  Mielle pushed up onto one elbow, though she could not see her husband in the dark. “No, it’s not, Trevn. You were fine until I brought this up.”

  “I don’t want to hold court. I’ve told you this. And I’ve told
Barek over and over.”

  “But I thought you were frustrated that the nobles don’t like you.”

  “I am. But I’m not going to bribe them to like me either.”

  Mielle tried to force her feelings of hope and desire toward him, wanting him to sense how important this was to her. “Zeroah and I already worked out the invitations. ‘You are cordially invited to join Rosâr Trevn and his queen for a water party.’ Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  “Indeed,” Trevn said, “if I were inviting friends rather than perfect strangers who despise me.”

  “Barek said, ‘No offense, my dear, but no one will come for you alone.’ Zeroah said that simply wasn’t true. She agreed that few of the men would care to see me, but she thinks the ladies would surely come. She says everyone is curious what kind of queen I will be.”

  “And what kind of favors they might be able to garner from you,” Trevn said.

  Irritation spiked through Mielle. “They can ask all they want, but I will agree to nothing without asking you first. Zeroah said we mustn’t discount the noblewomen—that they have influence over their husbands, but also over the people who work for them.”

  “Servants have ears, you mean?”

  “Well, yes. And, Trevn, I agree that it would be best if you did come, at least for the first time.”

  “I cannot believe you are still pressing me.” Now Trevn was irritated, and their combined emotions made Mielle twice as angry and sent her heart racing.

  “Don’t get so upset,” she said.

  “Mielle, I have an endless list of tasks before me. This is one I’ve already crossed off my list. Please do not put it back on.”

  “But Barek and Zeroah think—”

  “I heard you. I did. But I don’t care what they think. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “But, Trevn, I don’t think it would be all that bad.”

  “Rubbish and nonsense, is what it is.”

  “If you’d only listen.”

  “Talk if you like. I will not change my mind.”

  “Well, that is rude.”

  He sighed heavily. “Mielle, I have made a decision, and my feelings on the matter have not changed.”

  “Well, mine have, and you should care enough about me to at least hear why.” Tears laced her voice, and she felt Trevn soften.

  “Fine. Tell me why.”

  “Thank you.” Her words lifted the tension between them a little, but it was still a taut line. “The whole point of holding court is to give your nobles a place where they feel they can be heard by you. I am happy to be the one who listens, but the duke believes that none of the men will come if they know you’re not going to be there.”

  “So?”

  “Well, we need the men to come! They make the decisions that affect the people who live near them. You said your army is disjointed. You need loyal soldiers who will follow you to war if the worst comes. Well, Hinck has already told you it’s coming. So, like it or not, you need the support of those noblemen so that they will bring you fighting men. If only their wives attend court and hear your cause, then each woman is left to try to convince her husband, and you can see from present circumstances how well that goes.”

  He chuckled, rose up, and took her chin between his fingers. “You did well enough.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth. “I can’t promise to come, Mielle, but I will ask Hawley to see where he might make room in my schedule.”

  She wrapped her arm around his side. “Oh, thank you, Trevn! I knew you would be persuaded once you heard the logic.”

  “I only hope not to regret letting you talk me into it,” he said, pulling her close.

  “You won’t. I promise!”

  “Don’t make promises you have no control over, Mouse,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Those nobles all have minds and agendas of their own.”

  The next morning when Mielle first glanced out a window, the ground was covered in a thick blanket of snow, and the lake looked frozen. She ran to Trevn’s office with Lady Pia at her heels, passed Cadoc at the door, and entered without knocking. Her husband was not alone. Barek Hadar and Hawley were sitting on the other side of his desk.

  “Did you see?” she asked. “I shall have to cancel court!”

  Barek stood and bowed to her. “Did we see what, Your Highness?”

  “It has snowed! Not only that, the lake is frozen. I don’t think we could move the barges if we tried.”

  Trevn stood and walked around his desk. “Frozen lake? This I must see.” He opened the door and walked out.

  Mielle followed, as did Cadoc, Barek, Hawley, Lady Pia, and two of Trevn’s King’s Guards. The nearest window was in the council chambers a few doors down, but instead, Trevn took the stairs to the roof.

  When they stepped outside, an icy wind whipped around them and Mielle gasped. She could see her breath on the frigid air. “It’s freezing out here!”

  Trevn took one step, slipped, and barely managed to catch his balance. “It’s icy too. Looks like winter has arrived.”

  Cadoc took hold of Trevn’s elbow and led him carefully toward the parapet. Bonds appeared beside Mielle and offered his arm. Mielle took hold, and the King’s Guard led her after Trevn. She reached his side and looked down on the lake. It wasn’t completely frozen after all. Just around the edges near the shore. Men below were beating at the ice with poles, trying to free the barges.

  “Only part of the river froze last year,” Trevn said, “unless we found it after it had thawed some. I do hope this winter will not be colder than anything we experienced last year.”

  “What about court?” Mielle asked.

  He grinned at her. “I suppose we’ll have to postpone it until spring.”

  “Trevn!” Mielle folded her arms. “Zeroah, Tonis, and I have already done too much work to cancel.”

  Trevn’s brown eyes lit on hers. “In one day?”

  She would not give in to his teasing. “There must be a room in the castle we could use.”

  “You know very well there is not,” Trevn said. “I do hope the crops didn’t freeze. If so, we could be looking at a food shortage.”

  “Many farmers had already harvested,” Hawley said, “but not all of them.”

  Trevn walked back toward the castle entrance. “We must pen letters to all the farmers to inquire after their crops. If too many were lost, we will have to make up for it with hunting and foraging.”

  Mielle watched Trevn go, scowling. Her husband had a million concerns and more piling up each day, but her best hope for helping solve one of those was packed in ice. What could she do now?

  Qoatch

  Qoatch collected two dozen clay pots of various sizes from the work shed near the emperor’s garden. He filled them with fresh soil and transported them to Jazlyn’s apartment. The Great Lady had asked him to multiply the ahvenrood plant Chieftess Charlon had given her. His goal was to divide it into as many cuttings as possible.

  The plant was not overly large. Qoatch took great care in each cut, making sure to leave enough stem. It hadn’t rained in weeks, and his biggest concern was that the cuttings might dry out before they could grow roots of their own. He left Jazlyn’s apartment in search of fabric to tent over the pots in an effort to create a humid environment. After that, there would be nothing to do but wait and see.

  He was in the tailor’s workroom, trying to decide between two lengths of linen, when muted screams caught his attention. He ran out into the corridor, found it empty, and followed it to the inner courtyard, where people were scattering like ants after a dropped boot.

  Qoatch grabbed the arm of a serving woman and tugged her to a stop. “What is happening?”

  “Giants, sir. They’ve breached the bailey.”

  Qoatch must warn Jazlyn. Giants had made dozens of attacks against the outlying settlements, but never against the stronghold. Why now? He couldn’t imagine that anything had been done to provoke such an assault.

  Qoatch sprinted to Jazlyn’s
apartment, surprised to find that the Igote guards had left. Her loyal Protectors remained, circled around his Great Lady, who stood in the open front door, barking orders like an army general.

  “. . . you other four, with me and Niklee. No one is to leave this apartment for any reason, and no one but Niklee, Qoatch, or myself is to enter. Niklee, come.” She pushed out of the group and started down the corridor, approaching Qoatch with Niklee and four Protectors at her heels.

  “Qoatch, where have you been?” Jazlyn asked. “Giants are attacking and we must see that Prince Ferro is moved into hiding.”

  Qoatch’s steps slowed, and when she reached him, he reversed direction to walk alongside her. “I don’t understand, Great Lady. What of Princess Jahleeah and Prince Jael?”

  “Safe inside the apartment with Zinetha. Prince Ferro is my concern now.”

  But this made no sense. Why save a boy she had wanted dead? “And the emperor?”

  “Rosârah Thallah will not permit me anywhere near my husband,” she said, “but I might have a chance at helping the prince.”

  “His attendants have likely done so already,” Qoatch said. “My concern is to get you safely hidden before the giants infiltrate the castle.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If I hide and we live through this attack, but the emperor and his brother are killed, the people will hate me forever and many will believe Thallah’s accusations against me. New Rurekau will be lost to me. It will be impossible to rule as regent when the people want me dead. But if I were to save Prince Ferro’s life . . .”

  It might change the way the Rurekan people felt about her. And Ferro was young enough that Jazlyn could serve as regent for many years. Qoatch had almost discarded the antidote for the dead sleep. He was glad he had not followed through. “I will see that Prince Ferro is moved to safety, Great Lady, but I urge you to return with your Protectors to your apartment.”

  “I will not. I must be seen.”

  Qoatch didn’t like it. He was unarmed—should have run inside the apartment to grab his sword. Too late now.

  They crossed the courtyard that stretched before the great hall, then entered the royal wing. Shaved-headed Igote soldiers clogged up the hallway outside the doors to Emperor Ulrik’s chambers. Prince Ferro’s rooms were around the corner on the other side of the soldiers. Unfortunately, this was the only way to reach them.