by C. L. Polk
A tail grew, glossy with rippling hair. Aldis’s cries were all animal now as the beast rippled with its transformation and then shuddered with heaving, labored breaths, its becoming complete.
It wasn’t a horse. It wasn’t a deer. But the heera was a creature out of daydreams, and the little girl inside me who thrilled at horses clasped her hands together even as I fought nausea at the sight of it. It—he—sighed and put his nose in Aife’s hand.
She petted Aldis, as if he were a prized beast. “Take him out to the stables,” she said, and took her hand away.
A glamor settled over Aldis. His hooves melded. His antlers faded. His body slipped into the seeming of a strong, glossy chestnut horse, and a guard looped a rope fashioned into a lead over Aldis’s head. Aldis went quietly, his unshod hooves clumping on the floor. Aife waited until the door closed behind the guards and the new horse, then turned her attention to Constantina and Severin, both of them pale and clammy. They stank of terror. They uttered not a word.
Aife regarded them both a moment longer. “You wished to negotiate?”
Constantina ran. She tore open the doors and dashed past the guards, who stopped her and marched her back inside.
She tried to kick, to wrestle herself loose, but they brought her back to the throne. Constantina wailed, terrified. “No! Please!”
“Calm yourself,” Aife said. “I asked you a question.”
Constantina screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. I wanted to look away, to try to preserve some of her dignity. I glanced at Severin, who stepped a little closer to Aife’s throne.
“Your Highness,” Severin broke in. “I wish to show you something. Constantina should properly be counted among the imprisoned traitors in the tower. She knew that the asylums were using witches to power the aether network. I have pictures of her inside the asylum at Red Hawk.”
Aife put out her hand. “Show me.”
Severin offered the folder, and Aife glanced through the presented photos—a handful of the ones Severin had showed me. Only the important ones made it to Aife’s hands.
Constantina wilted. “Foolish boy,” she said. “Aeland will never be ruled by your hand, no matter what crown you put on your head.”
“We have no interest in controlling Aeland’s government,” Aife said. “We wish to see justice restored to this land. We will give you a year to change your ways.”
“Then I’ll be King?” Severin asked. “With your leave of course, Blessed Highness.”
“We can’t put the crown on your head, Severin. You’ll have to do that yourself.”
Severin smoothed away his consternation. “Mother. I ask you to abdicate your throne and make way for my rule. If you do this, I will see you comfortable in the duchy of Red Hawk. I don’t want to hang you.”
But he would. If that’s what it took, he’d send his own mother to the gallows with Father and all the rest. Perhaps he should—would the people countenance mercy to his mother?
Constantina raised her head. “You may have to, Severin. But not because I will resist your efforts. I abdicate the throne in favor of my son, Severin Philip Mountrose. May he reign with wisdom and strength.”
Severin bowed his head. “Thank you. Grace, take Mother to the scriptorium. Get that abdication in writing. Meet me in my office in the palace afterward. I have something I need to do.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The Strings on His Wrists
Ending a reign with legal documents was strangely peaceful. Constantina wrote the abdication, then read a penny-book novel while we waited for the master penwoman to scribe her declaration, a process that transformed official documents and writs into legal existence.
For the time between Constantina’s declaration and the signing, Severin’s rule was in limbo—not real until documented, signed, and sealed, like any legal agreement. We had typewriters and printing presses to produce text, but a document of law still had to be scribed.
When it arrived, Constantina took out an engraved silver pen and signed it on the spot. She glanced sideways at me as I signed, declaring myself as witness.
“I don’t fancy taking the trip to Red Hawk in sleds and tents. I’ll take the train after it thaws.”
So Constantina was going to stay a while—and if she played the hand dealt to her, she meant to influence her son’s decisions. My head throbbed. I could deal with her opposition—I could even use it to my advantage. But I wanted to get on with the business of setting Aeland back on its feet. Constantina was promising to hinder that progress.
“Shall we go to your apartments now? I think you’ll wish to consult with the head housekeeper about moving to another wing.”
A flock of junior scribes looked up from their calligraphy, wide-eyed at the gossip. A glare from the master penwoman put them back to work. A muscle in Constantina’s jaw jumped, but she strode out of the room as if I hadn’t insulted her.
“How long have you both plotted against me?” Constantina asked, as if this were a comfortable, boring conversation for hallway talk.
“Not long.” I owed her the truth. “When Severin fetched me out of the jail cell you ordered for me.”
“You pulled me from the throne in a little over a week.” Her mouth went sour. “Severin had better remember how easy it was. Do you really think he’ll do a better job?”
“Severin has the proper respect for the Amaranthines and their wishes.”
“Severin relies on the judgment of others. It’s a dangerous trait in a king.”
“Severin has his own mind,” I said. “And he’s very good at considering the needs of others. He tries to make balanced decisions. That means listening to people he trusts.”
“Countries tremble when a weak king takes the throne.” She looked straight ahead, giving me a brief glimpse of her profile, recognizable as the same elegant nose and curving chin on the coins in my pocket. “It’s a wonderful monarch for an ambitious Chancellor, though. Isn’t it?”
Oh, Constantina was not going to be eliminated so easily. “Honestly? I had never thought about it in those terms.”
“Spare me,” the Queen scoffed. “As if a Hensley would ever overlook an opportunity for power.”
But I had. I had never really thought of Severin as a king, even though he would certainly come to the throne in my lifetime. Even when Severin had come to me, asking for my support when he made a bid for the throne, I had never thought of how to take his need to be likable and shape it for my own ends.
I turned the notion around in my mind. As Severin’s Chancellor, I stood to influence many of his decisions. I could manage him easily enough. But thinking about it put a sour taste in my mouth. Severin had ideas of his own, a vision of his own, and it was my job to push those ideas and that vision into policy. I wanted to do that job, but Constantina was going to turn him into a string-doll and squabble over who got to make him dance.
I had to get rid of her.
“This is where we part,” I said. “I suggest you contact your dressmaker as well. It’s going to take a while to adjust your wardrobe.”
Only a monarch wore more than a splash of violet, and Constantina had draped herself in purple. All those gowns and suits had to go. Constantina puffed up angrily at the reminder but composed herself. “You think of everything, Dame Grace. You have the knack for being an able assistant.”
I curved my lips. “Thank you. I’ll consider it if I find myself looking for a new job.”
I bowed my head—a mere dip of courtesy from a Royal Knight to one of the landed—and walked away from her, not requiring her leave to go. It was a short journey from the royal quarters to the wing that housed the Crown Prince, and servants already buzzed through the hall, carrying crates and packing material to move Severin’s personal belongings. A guard bowed to me and led the way to Severin’s office, the only room left in peace from the industry of porters and maids.
“Do you have a pen, Your Majesty?” I asked as I walked through the door. “I can lend you mi
ne if you haven’t got one handy—”
I stopped midstride as the floor shifted under my feet. My stomach plummeted, as if I sat inside a roller coaster that had taken its first, terrifying plunge.
Father stood next to Severin, his hand on the new King’s shoulder.
* * *
Severin waited for the abdication in my hands with barely contained excitement. He tried for a casual smile, but it stretched too far, betraying his joy. “I’ll borrow yours. It makes for a better story.”
Father stood by his side, pride curling his lips. “Excellent work, Grace. You made this happen. I couldn’t be prouder.”
Oh, Solace, no. This was not going to happen. “You can’t free him, Severin. Everything the Amaranthines deplore us for doing stems from his schemes. The people won’t stand for it.”
“The people are nothing,” Father said. “They complain and wave signs and want everything handed to them, but once we turn the lights back on and their jobs are waiting for them, they’ll go home and stop this nonsense.”
“Do you hear him, right now?” I asked Severin, whose smile had faded. “The people aren’t just complaining. They can’t just be soothed by a ten-hour shift six days a week for bad wages. And when the witches come home and start talking—”
“It will all be handled,” Severin said. “My reign will right all of that. Apologies will be made. We’ll task the government to institute reforms. But this disruption from protests and strikes can’t be tolerated. As King, I will—”
“Think about this, Severin. You’ll be King, I’ll be Chancellor, and Father will be—what? What will Father get? If you pardon him there will be a revolt.”
“I’ll return to my post as Chancellor,” Father said.
“The deuce you will. You’re going back into a cell.” I turned my attention to Severin. “You might get away with not hanging him, if you say he’s too sick to face an execution.”
Father went on as if I hadn’t said a word. “I’ll take on a proxy to attend the sessions and the events I don’t have the energy to do. You will be doing something quite different.”
Father’s voice distorted, sounding like he spoke into a well. I blinked, trying to clear the feeling of unreality that blanketed me. “Different? You honestly thought I’d let you push me aside, and then use someone else as your proxy? That’s not going to happen.”
“I’m not pushing you aside, Grace.” Father shook his head. “Maybe I should step back and let Severin explain.”
He did exactly as he said, taking three steps away. He roamed along the naturalist displays, pausing to gaze on a specimen dome containing a black guardian butterfly, mounted as if it had just lit on a branch.
I looked back at Severin. “What do you have to explain? What story did he cook up, and why do you think the people will fall for it?”
Severin stepped close to me, taking my hand. “It’s not a story. It’s— Ah, blast it. This isn’t how I wanted to do it,” Severin shook his head and licked his lips, smiling at me with warmth. “I had something very different in mind.”
“What?”
“This.”
Severin let go of my hand and sank to one knee.
The roller-coaster sensation lurched to the right. He slipped his hand inside his pocket, and my hands trembled.
He couldn’t be. It wasn’t done. It was never done. Every moment of that dance at the ball came back to me, every second spent dancing in his arms, the Prince never letting me go. This couldn’t be happening.
Severin produced a band of silver, mounted with— Oh, Solace shelter me. The Prince held out a ring with a sapphire the size of my thumbnail, surrounded by tiny sparkling diamonds. He held the Heart of Aeland, passed from royal bride to royal bride for generations.
“Please take this ring,” the Prince said, “and consider. Will you consent to become Her Royal Highness Princess Grace of Aeland, Royal Knight of Aeland, Duchess of Red Hawk, Marchioness Westfjord, and my wife?”
His wife. My heart pounded. This was beyond imagining. This was impossible. “We can’t.”
“I checked. There is no law that says a member of the royal family can’t marry a Royal Knight. There never has been.”
“It’s understood. Royal Knights don’t marry out. And neither do you.”
“King William married his secretary.”
“King William wandered off to the country to have a dozen children while his cousin did all the work.”
“And his eldest son was my great-great grandfather,” Severin said. “I need you, Grace. Aeland needs you standing for them.”
This was what my father wanted. This was what he had worked for, behind the bars of the prison that barely held him—a way to elevate the Hensley legacy to unimaginable power. We would forever be a step above the Hundred Families—we would be royal, part of the bloodline of Good Queen Agnes. After Severin, a Hensley child would take the throne. Magic would run in the veins of Aeland’s rulers forevermore.
It would be the greatest achievement in our family’s history, outdoing even Great-Grandmother Fiona. This was the ultimate climb to power. This was an achievement to take a sick old man peacefully to his grave.
And this was his wedding gift to me—a handsome, weak-willed King who wanted to be liked. A man I could easily control as Princess-Consort, the most powerful woman in Aeland. I could do almost anything.
I could lead reform. I could dismantle the worst of the Royal Knights’ legacy of greed and cronyism. I wouldn’t have to hobble radical legislation with compromise after compromise—I could simply decide what was best, and Severin would sign his name. It was the answer to everything.
All I had to do was accept duty and responsibility over selfish wants, just as I had done my whole life. To accept that marriage was about the advantages of partnership, about alliance and legacy. This was best for Aeland.
I stared at that ring, sparkling and dark with all the potential to put everything right. I could do everything I wanted. It made sense to say yes. Say yes.
My lips wouldn’t move.
“Please allow me to confess something,” Prince Severin said. “This is the solution to our problems, but political expediency isn’t my only motivation.”
What? I blinked and looked at him instead of at the hypnotic depths of the sapphire in his hand. “It’s not?”
“I admire you. Fervently.” He tilted his head, gazing at me. “You never guessed?”
“No,” I confessed. “I never thought about it.”
“I think you’re brilliant,” Severin said. “I’ve always been in awe of how quickly you see the undercurrents of a situation.”
“Except romantic interest, it seems.”
“Do you doubt my sincerity?” The light sparkled in his night-dark eyes. He wanted to marry me. This wasn’t just an alliance for political influence. This wasn’t just Father’s strings making him dance. He wanted this. He would love me. He would adore me—he already did.
It solved all my problems. It cut through the tangle. But I couldn’t open my mouth.
Miles would never— No, he would understand. He would understand completely. And he would still love me, even though he could never trust me. Tristan would probably understand too, but my heart wrenched at the thought of losing his friendship, however cordial we would be with each other. I would stop the crackdown Severin planned for the protesters, but I’d never be welcome in Robin’s house—she would be my critic, my honored scrutineer, and never, never my friend. Avia—
The roller-coaster took another plunge. We hadn’t promised each other anything. But Dame Grace Hensley would take that ring, and rule, and do her best—
And the person I was when I was with my brother, Avia, Tristan, when I could shed Dame Grace like a coat—that woman would never become anything. I didn’t know who she was, but I would never learn with the King’s ring on my finger. Every person I loved, admired, and respected would be on the other side of the line. The right side of the line, no matter how
much good I did, how pure my intentions would be.
And so I smiled at Severin, and he knew before I opened my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Severin. So sorry. I am deeply honored by your proposal, but I must decline. This is a line we must not cross.”
He took it in the heart. It bowed his shoulders, dimmed the light in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He nodded, silent and sorrowful.
Behind him, Father stared at me, incredulity in his eyes. “You what? You’re sorry?”
Severin stood up and turned around. “It’s her choice, Sir Christopher.”
“All of those years I taught you,” Father said, his voice simmeringly angry. “Everything you learned, everything you dedicated yourself to, and you— Severin. Lock her up.”
“I will not,” Severin protested. “She hasn’t done anything—”
“She willfully destroyed the aether network. She is responsible for all the jobs lost, the widespread hardship Aelanders suffer, every poor soul frozen to death in their homes. She lied on the front page of the paper about the Royal Knights. All because she’s been subverted to a dangerous ideology dedicated to destroying the government and our way of life.”
How quickly he moved through the game of power. Father always had an answer. He always had an attack. His body was weak, but his mind was as sharp, as dangerous as ever.
Severin blinked. “None of that is true.”
“All of it is necessary,” Father said. “She’s the greatest threat to our nation, and she must be contained.”
That was quite enough. “You can try explaining that to the Grand Duchess, if you like. I’m sure she’ll give that the response it deserves.” I folded my arms and turned my attention on Severin. “You know what the Amaranthines want. You told me that you would satisfy their requirements. Imprisoning the woman who liberated the dead from the crime that they’re considering withering us over won’t look good to them.”