Highest Lord

by R. J. Price

  Each piece of furniture collapsed into itself, then onto the floor in a jumbled mess of wood and fabric bits. It wasn’t an instant process, it crumbled inward slowly. Aren watched in amazement, wondering if she could do that.

  “If you ever let loose your anger in such a way that places innocents into danger again...” Aren raised her left hand, the same as she had to defend herself. Van cried out in pain, leaving Aren feeling relieved as she dropped her hand. There was a pressure off of her very flesh, as if a weight had been lifted.

  It felt good to do this, but which part felt good? Causing pain, or using magic?

  She dropped her hand and waited as Van tried to catch his breath.

  “I do not suffer you to live, Van, but so help me. If you put others of our rank in danger because of your behaviour, I will end you. Ella be damned, your title be damned, I will not allow you to tarnish the rank. I think we have enough problems as it is.”

  Van gasped in a breath. “How did you know that would work?”

  “What would work?” Aren asked.

  “Pain—how did you know pain can end anger like that?”

  Aren puzzled over the question, only able to come up with one explanation. The throne had told her things more than once, though she wished it were done in such a way that she knew why she was doing what she was doing.

  “I simply do. This is two, Van. I will check with others, but I believe being brought before me three times means an end to you. Do not anger me again.”

  She left the sitting room, slamming the door behind her because it made her feel good. She could slam the door and so she did.

  Just outside the room stood Ella. The warrior looked nervous and was in the middle of pacing as the door slammed. Aren met her eyes and saw the terrified tremble a moment before the woman was gone and all that remained was a warrior.

  “He's alive and in one piece,” she said. “Count yourself lucky I didn't take a hand for his attempt to attack me.”

  “Is he still angry?” Ella asked.

  “I do not believe so.”

  Aren moved off down the hallway.

  “Lady Aren,” Ella called, sounding half-desperate and half-demanding.

  She turned to the warrior, who glanced at the sitting room door and then back at her.

  “May I give him something to help him sleep?”

  “...Yes?” Aren was confused as to why the question was even being asked.

  “Thank you.” The relieved tone that Ella said the words in only confused her more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jer walked into the room and stopped. Whatever had happened in that room, he had just enough time to get the feeling back in his legs before his father dragged him to his feet and made him down a bit of drink to take the edge off. He could see, from the state of the room, that the steward was required.

  But he was confused as to what he was supposed to do.

  “Long and short, Aren doesn't feel the way she should and—” Av started.

  “Caused this?” Jer demanded.

  “This was Van,” Er said helpfully.

  “Let me guess,” Jer said. “You morons decided to come together and talk about that and brought a queen in on the conversation?”

  “I didn't know he would react like this,” Lerd said. “I've met him before, I thought he was more stable than this.”

  “You are a moron!” Jer shouted. “Check with me before you pull people in for a conversation! Idiots, morons, imbeciles, and fools. The only people who should know that Aren doesn't feel properly are warriors and trainers. You,” he said, jabbing a finger at Av, “go see Danya and see if she learned anything over her winter with Aren. You,” he said, jabbing the same finger at Er and Gamen, “are not part of palace lands, so get back to your own rooms! And you,” he said with a snarl to Lerd, “I'll deal with you when I've rested and the alcohol is out of my system, but I'm going to put your head through something, I swear it.”

  When no one moved to obey, his father stepped up beside him. “Move it.”

  The warriors scrambled to get out of the room.

  Jer waited until they were gone before he dared look at the room. He couldn't sort Aren's anger out of Van's, though he didn't feel Aren's magic in the room at all.

  “You can tell the difference between the emotions of different queens,” Ervam said, walking deeper into the room. “Most of the time, it's really only how they were raised. It's never been a great secret that how you raise a queen will determine how she ends up feeling her emotions. It's how we know that beating a child, commoner or rank, will lead to bad things.”

  “Is that why warriors typically put an end to that?”

  “It's why you believe it dishonourable to look the other way when you know a child is suffering, yes,” Ervam said and motioned around the room. “Aren and Van's anger is only separated by a tempered edge to Van's emotion.”

  “No, that's Aren's anger.”

  “Pretty certain Van would be tempered by time, not Aren,” Ervam said.

  “But the tempered anger is from a woman,” Jer countered. “Laeder's been angry a few times, I’ve felt his magic at work. I've obviously been around queens as well, so I can tell the difference.”

  “There's no difference between man and woman when it comes to magic.”

  “That would be like saying there's no difference between the feelings of two queens,” Jer countered, walking to the bookshelves that ran along the outer wall of the room.

  The books, despite being the most delicate items in the room, appeared to be the only things untouched. He reached out and grazed the binding of one.

  “Books weren't touched,” Jer said, moving away and to the hearth. The wood shelf above the hearth had fallen to splinters, along with the frame of the painting that hung over the hearth. The painting itself was in perfect condition. “I've never seen an anger like this.”

  “Like what?” Ervam asked.

  “It destroyed the bedspread and mattress, the chairs, the shelving, and rug. It even charred the walls, but only on this side of the room and nothing that could not absolutely be replaced has been destroyed. When queens rage, they break everything. They don't hold back from the books and art. Or from the other side of the room.”

  Ervam looked over the room, making a small sound at the back of his throat as he turned to the bed. Walking over to it, the trainer reached out and touched the bed frame. It crumbled under his fingers.

  Jer moved to the bed and looked at the caved in portion of the bed frame. Frowning, he looked to his father for an answer.

  “On palace lands you don't see this sort of thing. Short-lived queens, weak queens, don't have the ability to be selective, it just explodes like a glass cup thrown against a wall. Growing up in the North, I saw a few times when my sisters would rage and it would be very similar to this. The items of the one who upset them would be destroyed, while everything else would either remain untouched or at least be salvageable.”

  “That's a lot of rage to put into a bed,” Jer said quietly.

  “A punishment my father tried to bring in just before his death was tying a queen who had offended one face-down on their bed and then beating them.”

  “So that the queen would have to sleep in that emotion?” Jer asked. “Is that possible?”

  “The stronger the queen, the more their emotions can alter the furniture and rooms that they inhabit. Especially if their father or mother, or mate as it may be, is the one to cause the emotion. Once they leave, or die, the emotion fades, eventually.”

  “From a rage, we can tell so much about his childhood,” Jer said and sighed. “I wonder what we might learn if we visited Aren's room at the vineyard.”

  His father stared at him. Jer watched silently, awaiting the reproachful words.

  “How long would it take you to get to the vineyard and back?” Ervam asked.

  “Same as a messenger,” Jer said. “Why?”

  “Meaning a day or two there. How quickly co
uld you make it back with what we've been told is a dimwit?”

  “Is it safe to move one as a stranger?” Jer asked. “Oh, Aren's brother. No, no, I don't think that's a good idea. I can make the trip, but I'd say after the mating. I have to go make accounts of the estate, seeing as how the master of coin is buried to his neck in audit reports just trying to find this lord who owns land, which none of us can even find on a map.”

  “Why after the mating?” Ervam asked.

  “To make certain this”—Jer motioned around them—“doesn't happen again.”

  “Are you two talking about me?” Aren asked, coming into the room.

  Ervam and Jer both turned to the woman. She seemed different somehow, definitely hesitant as she stopped just short of them and looked over the room, then at Jer's feet.

  “What happened?” Jer asked.

  “I hurt Van and threatened to kill him if he does something again,” Aren said weakly. “And I enjoyed it...”

  “Have you never purposely used magic?” Jer asked.

  “Queen-in-hiding for eighteen years,” Aren snapped, angry enough to glare at Jer. “How much magic do you think I've used on purpose? Only enough to do up some lacing.”

  “Causing pain, especially on a queen that was this angry, takes a great deal more magic than lacing,” Ervam said quietly. “You probably don't enjoy causing pain. Most queens are taught to avoid using too much magic through lecturing and discipline for attempting too much. They attempt too much, not because the magic goes to their heads, but because using magic has always been described akin to being pleasured.”

  Aren frowned at Ervam. She looked to Jer, obviously questioning what she had just been told. He nodded in response. Queens tended to use magic for absolutely everything, but then whatever they felt while using magic caused them to become numb to other things. They had to be taught to resist the urge, to save magic only for necessary things.

  When a queen went numb, she no longer felt emotions strong enough to fuel her magic, which meant that she slowly lost access to that which was inherent in her rank.

  “What if Telm's just numb?” Jer asked. “She used to be strong, but now she's really weak and that's what we see in queens who have gone numb.”

  “I gave him a drink,” Ervam said quietly to Aren. “After one he tends to jump all over. I'll put him down for a nap. I would suggest you do the same.”

  “You suggest I put him down for a nap?”

  “I suggest you take a nap, Aren,” Ervam said with a frustrated sigh. “This all would have affected the proper flow of magic through the palace. That magic comes from you. The throne will drain more to settle the lines back down.”

  “Oh,” Aren said faintly.

  “Dealing discipline to Van also would have drained some of your magic and if you've never used that much on purpose before, you may feel it very shortly.”

  “Oh...”

  “Aren, go to bed,” Ervam said sternly.

  “As you say,” she said, before she turned and shuffled to the door. Wena appeared in the doorway and offered Aren an arm, leading her off towards her rooms.

  “When a queen rages like this, the throne typically absorbs the magic,” Jer said with a frown.

  “It does, but she's looking unstable and, barring a man to chase her down, it's best to convince her to take a nap. When she wakes, she will feel better no matter what has been bothering her.”

  “Naps don't work for everything.”

  “You, good sir, are going to be taking a nap as well,” Ervam said sternly. “Telm no doubt has a crew of servants waiting to begin cleaning the room. We can't learn anything else from this mess and the faster it is cleaned, the faster Av can move back into here rather than staying at the master's cabin with me.”

  “Wouldn't he just be offered another set of rooms?” Jer asked.

  “Do you not recognize the rooms you're standing in?” his father asked. “These are the rooms set aside for the mate to the throne. The only other place for him to stay at the palace is in Aren's rooms and that boy has his head so far into the clouds, he probably doesn't realize that he could be sleeping with Aren considering the fact that she keeps Wena in her rooms at all times.”

  “He's not the smartest of us,” Jer grumbled.

  “I think that alcohol has really taken hold.”

  “And I think I'll take that nap now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Av found Danya in the gardens, sitting on a bench all by herself. The woman hardly seemed bothered by the fact that she was alone and had no way to return to the healer hall safely.

  “Pity is for the ill, and for fools,” she said as he approached.

  He tried to focus on something else.

  Sitting on the bench beside her, with an appropriate amount of space between the two of them, Av struggled to come up with something to say. Jer wanted him to ask if Danya knew anything about Aren's emotions, but Aren didn't seem to want anyone prying into that fact.

  “Did you know that there is a magic here like the link from my village?” Danya asked. “The lines were quite dim at first, but they grow stronger now. I wonder if that wasn’t the curse, but the magic Rewel linked Aren to, the one like the throne.”

  “Aren is quite strong, so that is probably why the lines are growing stronger,” Av said.

  “Compared to queens of the past few centuries, she is,” Danya murmured. “I believe her greatest skill, however, is how easily she links to other queens, and they to her. This is a thing queens can do, did you know that?”

  “My father may have mentioned something of that sort,” Av said.

  Or had it been Nae? Or perhaps both had told him a version of the same thing.

  Av had been told so much over the past year that he was having a difficult time keeping everything straight. What had happened to his nice, routine life? The one where he knew his own mind and knew where he stood with everyone on palace grounds?

  “Let me try another way...” Danya thought in silence for a moment. “The healers are much commenting of Aren's impending mating but her lack of queens for handmaids to help unburden her when she decides it is time to carry a child.”

  “You mean to say that those queens are linked together?” Av asked.

  “Yes, not in the same way Aren is linked to those around her.” Danya frowned and turned to Av. “The magic comes to Aren and comes to a full stop. She has no ability to access the excess and the other queens have no ability to tap into her magic. Because it is all simply magic that would otherwise have no direction, none of them are affected by their links. No queen is linked to any other queen in the group, at least not yet, which means that their magic all goes to Aren.”

  “Ranks don't link that easily.”

  “She does. She was linked to four others when she came to me. Anue, Telm, and Mar I've since figured out. Is there a fourth queen at court? Or was there one shortly before she left?”

  “There was, but she didn't link to ... her...” The announcement hadn't been made. None of the commoners knew that Van was a queen, though they would suspect that one of the mates of the barons had exploded in the rooms.

  “That would make four,” Danya murmured. “And now I swear there are three others linked to her. Are there three more at court?”

  “Olea and Iln are both queens and here, but neither of them has linked to Aren.”

  “Do you know what Aren has been doing in her own time?” Danya asked. “The three new links are stronger than the one extra one, but not as strong as that of Anue or that of Mar.”

  “And now you can tell the strength of her connections as well,” Av muttered.

  “I can, and, young man, I do not appreciate your tone.”

  Av stared at Danya, looked her up and down and made an annoyed sound. “You appear to be a year older than Aren, so I do not need to hear that tone from you. Even if you are technically older than me.”

  “It would seem that very few at court are what they appear to be,”
she said.

  “Something that is starting to irritate me,” Av grumbled.

  “It is my understanding that after Aren is mated, the barons and high lords will go home, court will resume as per usual,” was the casual response. “I was also made to believe that many of the lords and ladies would be returning home in order to make it more difficult for the steward to collect on debts. They each have or know, supposedly, a queen in a village somewhere and this queen in this village would happily run their lights and their water without complaint.”

  “I don't even think that's possible.”

  “The healers have said as much, they've also said that if Aren is a smart woman, and I will tell her this the next time I see her, but if she is a smart woman, she would take the time after mating to tour the lands. After her winter away it has become obvious to everyone that Aren is not a queen that must be limited only to palace grounds. She might come and go as she pleases.

  “It would seem that when one like her tours the lands, others come forward to meet her and pass judgement. It's almost like how the lords and ladies call consent during court. Upon returning to the palace, Aren would have a good grasp of who was a danger to whom. She would know which queens might disobey her and give magic to the lords who are shunned and may even know which lords would abuse their title and attempt to force or manipulate a queen.

  “There are not many queens, despite there always being one available in the past. Some hundred on palace lands. So the healer's say.”

  “You hear an awful lot,” he said.

  “The healers are attempting to catch me up on information they believe I should know. Such as the real reason you called that healer to court. There's nothing they can teach her and they are confounded on finding things they might throw at her to keep her busy while you take your sweet time.”

  “She's been here a day,” he protested.

  “And in that day she has been found to be just as capable as the most trained at the palace and they are starting to suspect she is stronger than they are and can knit bone back together completely.”