A Kiss for Queens

by Morgan Rice

  Rupert sat up in the bed, drawing her into a fierce kiss. “I don’t think I’ll tire of hearing you say that,” he said. “Not for as long as I live.”

  Which shouldn’t be much longer, if Angelica had anything to do with it. By rights, Rupert should already have been a corpse. The only reason he still breathed was that her assassin had yet to return from dealing with the leaders of the incoming fleet, had yet to do the job that Angelica was paying her for.

  “And I will never tire of being your wife,” Angelica assured him, with a smile that was actually genuine. After all, being Rupert’s wife meant that she was queen. It meant that she would continue to be queen, even after the untimely events of this evening.

  She was still undecided about who to blame. Those attacking the city, perhaps, or maybe just his own madness. Either way, Rupert would certainly make a better martyr than a ruler.

  She felt Rupert’s hands on her again then, drawing her back toward him. It took an effort to turn and kiss him.

  “Again, my husband?” she asked.

  “It is our wedding night,” Rupert pointed out. His grip tightened slightly, promising more bruises to match the ones that Angelica already had from him.

  “It’s also the night before what promises to be an important battle,” Angelica replied. “As much as I want to keep you awake all of the night, I suspect that a commander needs his sleep. I wouldn’t want the city to fall because I was too demanding.”

  Rupert’s hand twined in her hair, and Angelica gasped as it jerked tight. “Let the city burn for all I care. You’re what I want, and I take what I want.”

  In every cruel way he could think of, Angelica thought. She glanced around, hoping that her assassin would be there, ending the need to pretend.

  “What are you looking for?” Rupert demanded. Angelica cursed herself silently. She hadn’t thought he would notice, but of course he would; predators always tracked movement.

  “I had arranged a surprise for you, to celebrate our wedding,” Angelica said.

  “What kind of surprise?” Rupert shot back. He pulled on her hair again, apparently enjoying her sound of pain.

  “The kind I thought you would like,” Angelica said. “A woman, a servant of mine, who has… displeased me.”

  That was certainly true. Rose should have killed Rupert and been gone by now.

  “Ah,” Rupert said, letting go of Angelica. “That has… possibilities.”

  Angelica could imagine them all too easily.

  “But she is not here,” Rupert said. “And you are.”

  “True,” Angelica said. She moved to stand. “And I will be only too happy to fill in the time. Would you like some wine first though, husband? This has been thirsty work.”

  Rupert nodded, and Angelica stood from the bed, snatching up her clothes as if to appear demure. It took her a moment to locate a decanter of wine in the unfamiliar rooms, and she had a brief moment of pleasure at the thought that she’d bedded the Dowager’s son in the old hag’s own rooms. That seemed a fitting kind of revenge.

  She went to pour the wine, slipping a powder from her clothes into her palm. It took only a moment to add it to one goblet, hoping that she’d judged it right. She didn’t have the extensive skills of her assassin when it came to these things, but even so, Angelica wasn’t prepared to wait any longer. She would do this herself, and Rose could pay the penalty for her lateness afterward.

  “Here you go, my husband,” she said, handing him the goblet. “Drink well. I want you refreshed for everything else to follow tonight.”

  She pushed back her fear in that moment, ignoring thoughts of what might happen if Rupert guessed what she planned, or tasted some difference in the wine. Instead, she smiled and watched while he drained it, waiting until he tossed the empty goblet across the room before she allowed herself a look of triumph.

  “What’s that look about?” Rupert asked. “What have you…” He coughed, and then coughed again, clutching at his throat. Angelica kept watching, enjoying this moment more than she should have.

  Rupert started to his feet, and for a brief moment Angelica knew real terror. What if the poison didn’t work fast enough? What if it didn’t do all she hoped? There had been a reason she had asked an assassin to do this, after all.

  No. Rupert managed one step, then another, but the third sent him down to his knees, stumbling and staring up at her with a mixture of rage and surprised hurt, as if he’d expected that this would turn out any other way.

  “Oh, don’t look like that, Rupert,” Angelica said. “We both know that if I didn’t kill you, eventually, you’d have killed me. It’s not as if I loved you. You were just a means to an end.”

  Thinking of that end, Angelica dressed while Rupert slumped to the floor. She would have liked to stay and watch him die, but it was better to go and make preparations.

  She had power to consolidate, and a battle to win.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sophia woke to the sound of tolling bells, ringing out across the ship so loud they seemed to fill the world around her.

  Sister, you need to come at once, Lucas sent.

  What is it? Sophia sent back. Is there an attack?

  It’s our uncle…

  Sophia was on her feet almost instantly, Sienne rushing to her side as if sensing that something was wrong. She dressed and went up onto the deck as quickly as she could, but even so, by the time she got there, she felt as though she was too late.

  A body lay on the deck, covered by a sheet. Her cousins stood around it, when they should have been off preparing for the attack. Lucas was there too. One look at the figures there, at her cousins standing around the body, and at their grave expressions, told her who it covered. Even so, she asked it.

  “Is that…”

  “It’s our uncle,” Lucas said, moving to stand beside Sophia.

  The words felt like a hammer blow striking her chest, the sudden grief of it pushing the air from her. They’d only just found their uncle. For him to be gone… it just didn’t make sense. When they pulled the sheet back, revealing the dart wounds and the knife blow, that feeling only got worse.

  “How?” Sophia said, feeling as though the world was closing in on her. This moment hurt in a way that she hadn’t thought anything could. To have regained a family only to have her uncle torn away from her felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest.

  She looked around her cousins, from Frig to Endi, from Hans to Ulf to Jan, as if they might have an answer. “How did this happen?”

  “We don’t know,” Lucas said.

  “We do know,” Ulf roared, pointing at the city. “The people here slew him!”

  Sophia might not be able to read her cousins’ thoughts, but she didn’t need to be able to in order to get a sense of the anger there. If she wasn’t careful, her cousins would roll over Ashton like a storm, taking their anger out on anyone who got in the way.

  “The people of the city didn’t do this,” Sophia said. “This was the Dowager’s doing.”

  “My people tell me that the Dowager is dead,” Endi said.

  “Then Rupert,” Sophia replied, “or someone else in their government. It doesn’t take a whole city to send an assassin.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Endi agreed. “The question is what we do now.”

  “We tear their city apart,” Ulf said.

  “We find the person who did this and kill them,” Frig agreed.

  Sophia saw her cousin shake his head.

  “I meant, what will we do about burying our father, and who will be Ishjemme’s duke,” Endi said. He looked down. “I have no wish to see us squabbling over the succession in the middle of a battle.”

  “That’s probably what the enemy intended,” Jan said. When he looked Sophia’s way, she could see the redness around his eyes as if he were struggling to hold back tears. “They… they thought that they could take away our leader and leave us… leave us fighting among ourselves.”

  Sophia
could hear him struggling to think clearly, and she guessed that had been part of the plan in killing her uncle too. It had been such a callous thing to do, such a sudden blow, and Sophia found herself wondering what might have happened if that blow had been aimed at her.

  You can’t blame yourself, Lucas sent to her.

  If I hadn’t brought everyone here…

  Then there would have been an assassin sent to Ishjemme, Lucas replied.

  He was right, Sophia knew he was, but even so, it was hard to look down at her uncle’s body and not think that her need to rescue Sebastian had contributed to this moment. Her uncle had even seemed to guess that it might be coming, when he’d handed over his signet ring to her. Sophia rubbed it now, thinking.

  “There is still the question of which of us should be named duke,” Hans said, “even if it is only for the battle.”

  “My uncle gave the dukedom to me,” Sophia said, holding up her hand so that the others might see the ring with her uncle’s seal upon it shining in the sun. “He said that in the old days, it would pass back to the king or queen between each generation to be granted anew.”

  Hans bowed to her. “Then you are more than our queen, cousin. You rule Ishjemme.”

  “Until I can work out which of you should get it,” Sophia said. She didn’t want her cousins thinking that she was depriving them of their birthright. She looked around at her cousins, hoping they understood, then looked back to her uncle. “We should bury him, but it doesn’t seem right, giving him some rough burial at sea.”

  “Give me a ship,” Endi said. “I will take him home.”

  Sophia frowned at that. “You’d miss the battle, Endi.”

  She saw her cousin shrug. “And I’m the one who can. The others are all fighters and commanders. I’m just the one who is supposed to spot danger coming out of the dark, and I failed. I’m no use here.”

  Sophia put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t send the assassin, Endi.”

  “No, but someone did, and I’d see my father buried properly now. Let me take him back to Ishjemme, Sophia. Let me see him buried at home.”

  Sophia could see some of the others nodding along with that idea. A part of Sophia knew that they needed every ship for the battle, but the truth was that she couldn’t begrudge her cousins this. If they wanted Endi to take their father home, then she wasn’t going to try to stop it. She wanted this done as it should be.

  “All right, Endi,” she said. “Take a ship. Take my uncle’s body home and bury him with honor.”

  Endi bowed. “Thank you, cousin. You men, help me with my father.”

  He took some men and had them lift Lars Skyddar, carrying him to the edge of the ship and lowering him in a small boat to row to another of their fleet. Sophia watched them go, not wanting to break away while her uncle was in sight. Eventually, though, she knew that she had to.

  She turned back to her cousins. “Whoever sent the assassin who killed my uncle did it for a reason. They wanted to slow our invasion. They’ve already pulled us away from the attack we should have been making. Tell me now… can the rest of you do what you’ve promised to do in this attack?”

  “I can,” Hans said.

  “Ulf and I will be strong,” Frig promised.

  “I will do what I must,” Jan said.

  Lucas nodded. We will take the city, sister.

  I hope so, Sophia sent back. Aloud, she continued. “I hate having to ask you to do this now, when you should be grieving. It feels as though the world should come to a halt for my uncle’s death, but the truth is that it can’t. There are soldiers there waiting for orders, and you are all the best people to give them. Go take the city, and I promise you that we will honor Lars Skyddar with our victory.”

  She watched them go, each setting off to his or her appointed position. The only problem was that she could watch them go. It was fully light now, any element of surprise long gone. Sophia swallowed as she thought about how much harder that might make the battle to come. She just hoped her cousins and her siblings would be safe.

  ***

  Sophia watched the small boats that held her cousins rowing into their appointed positions. Ulf and Frig’s boat slipped in close to the shore near the river gate. Hans headed for the outskirts of the city, where his men should already be taking positions. Jan and Lucas went off to join the main fleet, ready for the punch of the crucial assault.

  “It’s just you and me,” Sophia said to Sienne, ruffling the forest cat’s ears. She looked around, taking in the Dowager’s ships in the harbor, knowing that soon, they would be all but obscured by cannon smoke. Everything was set for the battle. It just needed her to give the order. The moment she did, though, more men and women of Ishjemme would die. Her uncle would be only the first.

  It was enough to make her pause, but only for a few seconds. This needed to happen. Sebastian had to be freed, and the Dowager’s family stopped. Sophia raised her hand, then swept it down.

  Around her, trumpets blared, and her fleet swept into the attack, the ships moving forward with an almost stately grace that seemed serene until the first cannon boomed, its projectile falling short to hit the water with a splash.

  More cannon roared then, and now Sophia could see the splintering of stone and wood as they struck at both the city and the ships in front of it. Clouds of smoke billowed up, turning a bright day into something darker, stinking of gunpowder. Sophia watched the first of her ships close on one of the enemy’s, soldiers pouring across, the shouts and screams of it audible even though her flagship was back from the main thrust of the battle.

  We’re attacking now, Kate’s voice said, sounding in her mind.

  Be careful, Sophia sent back.

  Careful doesn’t win battles.

  The hardest part was not being able to see what was happening in the city. For a moment, Sophia wished she had the skills of someone like the Master of Crows, so she could look down on it all and make sure that the people she cared about were safe. Only the thought of what it cost him made her think twice about it.

  Even so, she gripped the rail of her ship, trying to peer through the clouds of cannon smoke to see some of what was happening.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let it be working.”

  She could see boats engaging with one another on the water, cannons firing, crews moving to the rails ready for the brutality of hand-to-hand assaults. Sophia had to clamp down on her gifts for a moment or two as a ship caught fire nearby, the sheer agony of the men there cutting through every other thought. She could hear the crack of muskets from the shore, where Hans and Kate would be, while she thought she could see Frig and Ulf down by the river gate, waiting for the moment when the people she had inside would open it, and they would hold it, waiting for the rest of them to attack.

  It didn’t open, though.

  Sophia stared at the gate, willed it to open, considered if she might have misremembered what was supposed to happen. No. The men she’d sent into the city posing as merchants were supposed to open that gate at dawn. There was nothing to misunderstand. It just wasn’t happening.

  Tell me that things are going well for you, she sent to Kate.

  Wish I could, Kate sent back. There were soldiers here waiting. Somehow, they knew we were coming.

  Sophia could only guess at one possibility: they’d been betrayed. A glance up at the sky, seeing the crows circling there for the battle, made it easy to guess how that might have happened. She forced her attention back down to the battle, trying to make sense of the chaos around her. She could swear that she saw at least half a dozen ships breaking away from the battle, sailing back in the direction of Ishjemme. Were these deserters, or cowards, or just men who had decided that they needed to pull back from the fight to regroup?

  Sophia was about to yell out orders to intercept them. Then she saw the ships creeping into view on the horizon.

  They weren’t hers. All the ships that had come with them to Ashton were either here engaged in the main
assault or off with Kate and Hans’s force. That meant that these fresh ships had to be enemies. Could the Dowager or Rupert have managed to recall ships from around her coast when they heard about the fleet approaching? Paid for mercenaries to come in to aid their kingdom? Maybe, and it was more than possible if the Master of Crows had made his beasts croak a message into the right ears.

  “We’re trapped,” Sophia said, trying to think of a way out of it. There was no way out, though. They were caught between the ships arriving and the ones close to the shore. If they stayed where they were, then they would be crushed. If the ships pulled away, they might get to safety, but they would abandon everyone who had already made it to the shore. Besides, there was no guarantee that the ships there wouldn’t hunt them once they were done, following to make sure they captured or killed the new queen who was giving them so much trouble.

  Maybe, though, just maybe, there was something in that they could use…

  Sophia moved to the captain of the flagship, cursing the slowness that came with her pregnancy. She found him shouting orders down to the men below.

  “Get us turned broadside so that we can fire!” he yelled. “Hurry. Your majesty, you should probably go below. The fighting is getting closer.”

  “Not as close as I need it to get,” Sophia said, trying not to show any of the fear she felt. The truth was that whatever fear there was, it was easily eclipsed by the greater fears of what might happen to her forces if she let things stand as they were.

  “What do you mean, your majesty?” the captain asked.

  “I mean that I need you to signal the three or four ships around us to put to sea with as much fanfare as possible.”

  The captain frowned at that. “Your majesty, if we flee now—”

  Sophia pointed to the advancing ships. “If we flee now, the fleet coming in might pursue us. So might some of the ones in this battle, because I’m a prize they want. Every ship following us is a ship the others don’t have to deal with.”

  “And a ship we do,” the captain pointed out.

  “Some things are worth a little risk,” Sophia said. “But we need to attract attention. Fly flags, sound trumpets. Make it obvious that I’m here.”