by R. J. Price
“He’s joking. Av knows to keep his hands to himself. Aren will dent his skull if he hits you for bruising her during training.”
“I’d also like to see you get past her defences,” the man said. “She might be weak, but she’ll be able to hold her own against you, which means you need to learn fast. I’m only using you as fodder until she develops the muscle she lost and can keep up with Wena.”
“Speaking of Av,” Jer said, motioning to his brother still talking to Aren and the yard of still guards. “Did he come this way yesterday?”
The man nodded slowly. “Shift switch was this morning, but I was warned he might be by. Came by yesterday with a lantern, took it to the master’s house. Woke Ervam, who I’ve never known to sleep past dawn. Then he went back into the palace. This morning he has a water skin, but far as I know the plumbing’s working fine in Ervam’s place, which makes me think the Northern baron is sending Av on silly tasks to keep him busy at dawn and those tasks happen to move him by the training grounds.”
“Why do you believe that?” Jer asked.
“Because Lord Av knows better than to stop training to talk to her, which means he’d avoid the area if he could. However, after seeing her it’s like a moth to the flame, and the damned fool can’t help but stop and talk for a bit.”
“Why aren’t the men still training?” he asked.
“It’s my understanding”—a giggle cut across the yard, sending an odd sort of shiver through Jer—“that no one wants to be sparring when that happens. Of course he was walking away and doesn’t ever seem to feel that.”
“He’s a hole,” Jer murmured.
“Oh, the poor boy is the butt of a joke he doesn’t even know he’s part of,” the man said with a sigh. “Does explain why he doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that a giggle can do that to everything.”
“What do you mean, everything?” Laeder asked, looking at Jer for help. “I feel something, but what does he mean everything?”
“A queen giggling shouldn’t make you shudder, Laeder,” he said quietly in response. “That’s typically how it feels when a queen is … you know…”
“Enjoying herself,” the man grumbled.
“And then it’s only the first two or three times after she’s linked to the throne because both adjust. It’s a strong emotion so the throne allows it to flow through the palace, not realizing what it is that is going out.”
“If that’s what happens when she giggles, what’s going to happen when they finally fall into a bed?” Laeder asked.
“They’ve been in a bed,” the man said. “It’s a quite well-known fact that while Lord Av does keep the lady’s attention, he is missing his mark. And if he’s a hole, he doesn’t even realize that he is missing the mark. Makes me wonder if she knows he’s missing.”
“But that still doesn’t explain what’s going to happen when he finally does,” Laeder said, his voice starting louder, then dropping below a whisper. “The whole of you came to a standstill at a giggle. The men outnumber the women.”
The man scratched his chin as he considered Laeder. “Lad, we were born with two hands, and our fathers instructed us on how to use them should we find ourselves in want but lacking a willing companion.”
“The lords also currently outnumber the women, who are mainly wards of the throne,” Laeder stressed.
“Which means they have no one to stand for them, should something happen,” Jer muttered. “I’ll discuss that with the captain of the guard once he wakes. It’s not something you need to worry about, Laeder. For starters, it’s one of the reasons you’re going to be training. Secondly, you’ll have me and I will hurt anyone who tries to touch you like that unless you invite them to. And then I might take a hand, given the fact that they should know better, having grown up on palace lands.”
“I’m a worrier,” Laeder grumbled.
“I know you are, and that’s why I love you, but in the field, while she’s near, is not the time to bring it up,” he said sternly.
“I’ve also read the tales,” Laeder muttered. “He might not be able to feel the throne, but he can still affect it like a mate to the throne can. He can affect how the men react.”
“Then we’ll have a discussion with him as well,” Jer said.
“It especially depends on the magic of the queen involved and how many others she’s linked to versus how far her magic spreads. The influence of a queen can be felt to the very edges of her magic, which is usually only mentioned with the madness. But if the madness, which is an underscoring feeling, can be felt at the edge of the magic, then the stronger emotions can also be felt. The farther Aren’s magic spreads, the more people would be affected by her, which means that it’s not just palace grounds we’re concerned about.”
“Her magic hasn't spread beyond palace grounds,” Jer said, trying to calm Laeder’s concerns.
“She’s linked to the village in the northwest. Even if there’s no one living there anymore, her magic is working out there and is linked in a direct line to her. The villages and homesteads and estates down that direct line are more likely to get their lighting and plumbing back first. Magic doesn’t just appear there and appear here, it needs to travel there from here.”
“A queen who holds lands off palace grounds tends to spread more,” the man in charge of the training said. All but forgotten, he had remained as Jer and Laeder had quibbled over the topic. “And the lad’s right—those between the palace and that piece of land are usually the first, or only, ones to gain lighting and water while that queen sits the throne.”
“That’s a long distance for her magic to spread across,” Jer said.
“Well, given the fact that a giggle can do that to the men?” the man asked. “I’d have to say that a true laugh might light up the whole world. Or her anger? Saw that last year in court. Lady Aren isn’t felt often, but when she is felt, everyone knows and every light gets a little brighter. I’m just saying.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mar walked into the trades room and smiled sweetly at the men who paused in their work to look up at her. She had attempted to check with the master of coin first, but the man was deep in the records looking for some estate that Em had purchased. That was all she heard before Jer ushered her from the treasury, telling her to make the plans she wanted to and that of course the palace could afford whatever extravagance she could come up with.
“We’ve a mating to plan,” she said to the men in the room, watching them look to one another to speak first. None wanted to offer up something because none knew where they stood with Aren.
The last mating that had been planned had been cancelled abruptly.
“Of Av and Aren,” Mar said.
There was a collective, “oh,” from the room. Many of them opened drawers, riffled through papers and pulled scrolls from shelving. Those that pulled papers came around their desks, approaching Mar as they held out their items.
Mar took one, from the tailor, and opened it gently. The papers contained sketches for both a dress and formal attire for Av.
“She will dress in blue, he in red. Once they’ve mated they will no doubt disappear and I’ve leftovers from the dresses I made Lady Aren. She will then wear her purple court dress, and he will be able to get rid of the vest, which he no doubt will tear in some manner, and replace it with a tie of purple. Nothing extravagant, nothing that is not already paid for. These fabrics are quite rich, yes, but they are still made from the leftovers of other dresses. The blue is not quite the blue of the vineyard, but it will still be a nod to how Lady Aren arrived at court. In her beloved dress.
“The red does have a mix of orange to it, which is seen as the unofficial Northern colour, a mark of Av growing up on palace lands but belonging to Northern bloodlines. It will also hide the traditional… gifts… warriors bequeath on one another.”
“Gifts?” Mar asked.
“It was once tradition for a warrior to wear his mating clothing into a battle, then to the ma
ting ceremony, as a mark of his prowess. That tradition has been altered, as there are rarely battles these days.”
Mar considered the papers, then handed them back to the tailor with a nod. She accepted, then, a scroll from the jeweller.
“They’ve already got their rings, which will mark them as mate and queen on the throne, though Lady Aren does not wear hers yet. But I noticed Lady Aren now has a black bracelet and this item here is in the treasury and can be lent for a lifetime. I plan on placing a small red stone into the centre there, and Lord Av might wear it to mark him as mate to the throne, even if he is too far away for it to be felt. All, no doubt, will recognize Lady Aren, as the one who sits the throne is simply known throughout.”
“If the master of coin is willing to part with his toy, then by all means. The man, however, has a great deal on his mind. If that does not come to pass, the rings are still a wonderful gift. Find Lord Av, demand to know where Lady Aren’s ring is. Make him give it to you, or to Aren, and I will do the rest.”
The door behind Mar opened and all of the tradesmen went still. Mar turned and met the cold blue eyes of Telm.
“What are you doing?” Telm demanded.
“Planning a mating ceremony,” Mar responded with a small smile. “As is my right as the one who stands as queen.”
“Aren will kill us both if I let you plan her ceremony,” the other woman growled.
“I think she’d appreciate my tastes,” she said.
“She might, but then she’d have to listen to the lords and ladies whine about how it wasn’t extravagant enough. Not to mention the high lords, who sit precarious seats as it is. The last thing we need is the high lords—or spirits forbid—the barons, getting it into their heads to do away with the high lord title by breeding into one another. We need to win their favour. You cannot do that with your ceremony, but for the Northern high lord, and you know where he stands on the matter.”
Telm was alluding to Er’s words after the engagement ball in the early winter, during the meeting in which the baron announced the North’s unconditional surrender to the throne, for fear of what Aren would make of palace lands.
“Then you had best help me instead of hiding, as you did all winter,” Mar said quickly. “Isn’t… didn’t we send the Western high lord’s cousin’s servant to him with a command to control his bloodline?”
“We did,” Telm said. “Hopefully he found it amusing, as Ervam believes, rather than taking it as an insult.”
“The Eastern high lord is already here,” the tailor said. “He brought his papers of credit. Good Eastern coin coming into our coffers. They still use gold. He requested an outfit for the mating ceremony be created for himself and his mate, matching. He wanted his bloodline’s lavender but we cannot make that colour here and I counselled him on matching too closely with the one who sits the throne. He’s going with a formal grey instead.”
Mar watched the surprise play over Telm’s features. Obviously no one had informed the head of house that a high lord had arrived.
“The Western high lord sent a missive to me,” the cobbler declared. “The missive said he would be here in three more days and I was to have one of my famous hunting boots ready for him, and that he would pay double. The man does love my boots. He buys a pair every time he comes to court and it’s now been a few years.”
“That just leaves the Southern high lord,” Telm muttered. “Whom we need to buy above all else.”
“Why?” Mar asked.
“The Southern high lord was appointed almost ten years ago by your mother, after she had the previous lord slaughtered, as rumour goes. He stands against the expansion of the South and despises Merkat. He also happens to be your uncle by blood. Em’s older brother. But he kept to the bloodline—Savel, I believe it was. I always referred to him by his given name, Lerd.”
“Lord Lerd?” Mar asked, unable to suppress a giggle.
“Let’s just say your mother didn’t fall far from that rotted tree,” Telm muttered. “Lerd is a warrior of his own right, and rather strong. Your mother gave him the position as much to remove him from court as to give him something of his own. She knew she could trust him to be honourable in the position but was afraid he would stab her in the back.”
Mar glanced to the tradesmen, who still stood quite close by, then back to Telm. The head of house arched an eyebrow in response.
“To those who lived during that time, it was quite obvious,” the older queen muttered. “Lerd attempted to control Em, even tried to sit by her side. That was when Em suddenly found a love for Jer again. Once the engagement was announced they mated, and didn’t even give the high lords time to be notified. The South protested, then your mother slaughtered him and his bloodline, and sent her brother to take his place.
“Once there, Lerd found himself a mate and now has several children, but has not been back to court since. This will be his first trip as high lord.”
“Removing him would have been a part of the South rejoining palace lands,” Mar said.
“It was, yes, but to have a land rejoin, how could we keep a strong warrior such as him in the South?” Telm responded. “I’d rather him and his children near at hand. That bloodline has always been good to palace lands. Well, not always, I suppose, but it’s always those who mate into it that are foul, not those born to it.”
“My mother was born to it,” Mar muttered.
“Your mother took her mother’s name, thinking herself too good for an ancient and gracious line like Savel. Her blond hair, fair skin, and beauty, fleeting as it was, came from her father, not her mother. Never from her mother. That woman—now that woman would have competed with an actual witch for the title of witch.”
“Warts and all,” one of the tradesmen muttered.
A shudder ran through those gathered.
Mar had never learned of her blood besides her mother. Since the early winter she had been declared a Hue and found herself accountable to all the Mariltons and somehow linked to the Eastern baron, even though her father’s mother had no discernible relation to Gamen.
Now there was another bloodline to add to the growing list. Another line that claimed to be great and powerful, but had obviously fallen just as everyone else had.
“I’ve never heard of this bloodline,” Mar said.
“That’s because their name altered during the dark times recently. Savnell became Savel when the adults gathered and decided to change their name in order to protect their children and grandchildren. Commoners were actively seeking out any who claimed the name because there were those who claimed to be Savnell but were using the bloodline to search out queens and destroy them.”
Mar felt a prickling along her skin. “Wasn’t the warrior queen’s mate a Savnell?”
“Yes, he was,” Telm said. “Lord Lerd takes after his ancestors.”
“B-but we have no idea how to treaty with someone like that!” Mar exclaimed. “We hardly know how to speak with the North and they are a step apart from those warriors of old.”
“I can treaty with him, as you put it,” Telm murmured. “After all, I dropped him over my knee more than once when he was a boy and he knows I’ve no qualms about doing it again.”
“What do the rest of us do?” Mar asked.
“Hope that Aren’s instincts don’t drive her to chase after a mated man?” Telm asked. “During his time at court, Lord Lerd was chased by every man, woman, and some few chits who thought themselves adult enough to trifle with a warrior. At least the unmated ones chased him. He chased a few queens as well, those who visited court. His daughters are now banished from court, which is something we might be able to use. Em banished them for fear of their blood, but Aren would have no fear of it because she has no idea whose toes she would be stepping on.”
“I think Aren would want to keep her mating ceremony as small as possible,” she said.
“Only the barons and their families, the high lords, the servants… and a hundred or so lords and ladies who
are flocking to court to meet the new queen,” Telm said. The head of house was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “She’s going to kill us both.”
“Probably,” Mar grumbled.
Chapter Seventeen
Aren found Url hiding in the library. As the man was literally peering around a shelf, she suspected he was actually hiding. The library seemed an odd place for him to be, considering he was almost always everywhere else.
“What are you doing?” she asked, causing him to leap into the air and spin to glare at her. She smiled in response. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were peeping on bathing women. There are not women bathing in my library, are there?”
“What?” Url asked, red colouring his face. “No, no one is bathing. There’s a healer over there. Av’s speaking with her. She’s… something’s wrong with her.”
She opened her senses to the world around her. It was difficult, but she was able to see the healer and feel the woman’s annoyance and brittle anger. Underneath it all was a strong core, which suggested the possibility of so much more than whatever the woman appeared to be.
Closing off her senses, Aren looked at Url, who was staring at her with an open mouth and raised eyebrows.
“Is something the matter?” she asked him.
“You just—but you’re. But you just…”
“Oh, right, have to unwind to open to the world.” She scratched the back of her head and watched as Url babbled to himself. “Av only went a funny sort of colour. I wanted to talk to you about something and I can’t have you stuttering on like some love-struck fool.”
“I’m not in love with the idea of that, I’m afraid of it,” the warrior managed to get out.
“Why would you be afraid of me?” she asked.
“Not of you, of that,” Url said, motioning to the air around Aren. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like you’ve got an entire lifetime of magic caught up in that net of yours, and that can’t be healthy.”