The Winter Duke

by Claire Eliza Bartlett

  Sigis had never been small, but with several layers of clothing and several years of growth, he was truly a bear today. His broad shoulders stretched proud and branched into arms like tree trunks. His face screamed strong, from his straight nose to the thick blond beard on his chin. His hard eyes fixed on me as I approached, and his smile didn’t reach them. “Finest army in the North,” he said.

  “And what is it doing here?” I asked, focusing on the leaping wolf stitched across his chest. “Is it a wedding present?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why, are you getting married?”

  I blushed. “So you didn’t bring it for Lyosha’s brideshow?”

  “Ekata.” His voice was too warm, too familiar. “Don’t be absurd. My army was on campaign not far away, so I sent a message. Your ministers are about to revolt, and I thought you’d appreciate some help. I have experience keeping bureaucrats in line.”

  On campaign nearby, my freezing behind. This was far too convenient to be a matter of coincidence. But did that mean Sigis knew my family would fall ill, as I’d guessed? Or had he come to Kylma to arrange the illness?

  “So your army will fire cannonballs at the city walls until Reko agrees not to open a parliament?”

  “Don’t worry about the cannons,” Sigis said, taking my arm. My muscles tensed. “I only use them on my enemies.” He moved closer to the wall, and my feet dug into the ice instinctively. The edge of the wall wasn’t a place I liked to go, not since Velosha had pushed Pauno off for decapitating her favorite doll. Sigis didn’t seem to notice. “But what would you say to a little joining of power? Your ministers will bow to the one who has the most, after all. If we’re together, no one will oppose you.” He nudged me with his hip, making me stumble, and caught me by our linked arms. When I glared up at him, he winked.

  “Careful,” he purred.

  Was he flirting with me?

  Oh no.

  He was flirting with me.

  I wrenched my arm free and craned my head, looking for Eirhan.

  “I’m a powerful friend, Ekata.” Sigis moved to cut me off from my guard, my maid, and my prime minister. “My support means a lot, and I’m willing to put it behind you.”

  “In return for what?” I asked through a dry mouth.

  “Nothing you won’t have to do anyway,” he said, looping his arm through mine once again and turning me back toward the palace. “And we already know each other so well, don’t we?”

  Sigis paraded me through my own halls, with Eirhan, Aino, and Viljo trailing behind like useless ducklings. The halls were filled with noise like the constant lapping of lake water against the sides of the moat. Yet everyone from minister to servant fell silent when they saw me. And they stared. Sigis all but pinned me to his side, loudly greeting everyone he recognized as we passed. He wanted us to be seen together.

  “Annika,” he boomed at my minister of agriculture. Minister Annika bowed, flushing. Even when they stood straight, they only came up to my nose, and as they greeted Sigis, they studiously refused to meet my eyes. “I have an answer for your agricultural problems.”

  The flush spread to their ears. They tucked a brown curl back into their braid, still ignoring me. “I look forward to hearing it, Your Majesty,” they replied in a light, high voice.

  He kissed their hand. Don’t make a disgusted noise. Then he steered me away.

  Sigis stopped us outside the Rose Room and ordered Aino to get us a pot of coffee. Her nostrils flared in indignation. But Eirhan put a hand on her arm, and she left without complaining.

  The Rose Room had been decorated by someone who evidently thought we had to remind our guests what country they were visiting. The rose of our family was evident everywhere: in the upholstery of the couch and chairs, carved into the table, painted on the tiles of the fireplace. Winter roses covered the walls, studded with cold thorns and perfect blooms. They congregated in the corners and twined over the fireplace, where they never melted, no matter how high a fire burned. They were our crest; they were our family. Cold and brittle and untouchable.

  They were half open now, the center buds pushing out with some kind of urgency, turning translucent around the edges of each petal. Less open than they’d been this morning, though.

  It’s just superstition, I told myself. There’s nothing to the stories.

  Sigis took me to the couch, letting his fingers run from my elbow down my forearm, until he held my palm in his unrelenting grip. He pressed his mouth to my glove, and I felt the pressure on my skin beneath. I resisted the urge to tug my hand away and rub off the shine of his spit.

  “You look tired, poor Ekata,” Sigis said. I found myself being gently and inexorably pushed down until my knees buckled and I fell onto the silk. “Ruling isn’t easy, and I know it’s a burden you never wanted.”

  I tried to think how Father would handle the situation, but he’d never be faced with a flirting Sigis in the first place. The thought of Sigis trying to win my father’s hand through suggestive flattery nearly made me giggle hysterically.

  Sigis still held my hand. I took a deep breath to regain control. “I’m only provisional grand duke,” I said. “It hasn’t even been a day.”

  “I’ve seen coups take place in less time.”

  I was starting to see why the duke Below wanted me to solidify my place.

  I finally freed my hand from Sigis’s grasp. He compensated by scooting closer, touching his knee to mine. I fought the urge to leap up. He’s doing this on purpose. Why was Eirhan ignoring us? I folded my hands in front of me so that Sigis couldn’t see them shake. My thumb found the burning space he’d kissed and rubbed over it. Sigis leaned forward. My heart spiked. I’d met wolves in the mountains with Farhod, so why couldn’t I keep my head around this lumbering creature?

  Sigis smiled at me again, crossing his arms to show off his biceps. The wolf on his coat rippled. “There was one thing your father never wanted, and that was to diminish the power of the Avenko line. How can you be so certain that your ministers won’t create a parliament under your nose? How do you know it wouldn’t disrupt the balance between Above and Below?”

  “Reko’s not going to do that,” I said with more conviction than I felt.

  “Not if you deal with him decisively. Power, Ekata. You need it. I have it.”

  “And?” I wanted to sound nonchalant. My voice squeaked.

  “We can work together.” Sigis picked up my wrist and worked his thumb between my folded hands. “You know I always thought a wife from the North would be… fitting.”

  I pushed my teeth together until pain lanced through my jaw. “I believe you told my father any daughter would do.”

  He laughed, eyes flicking down to where our hands met. “You always had a good memory, my Ekata.”

  My skin flushed with anger. I was his nothing. “And what does my prime minister think of the idea?” I grated at Eirhan.

  If I expected Eirhan to be flustered, I was disappointed. He replied without looking up. “An honor such as this is offered to few. Your Grace need not seek my permission.”

  Wriggling tapeworm, I thought furiously.

  “However,” Eirhan continued, and a small storm of hope unfolded in my chest. “Choosing a spouse has been a traditional start to the coronation trials, and we have not yet decided to embark on them. You have sworn to be provisional grand duke, and you might imagine how instigating the coronation trials might be seen by others. Especially without any siblings around to compete.”

  “Exactly,” I said, letting my eyes close in relief. As the door opened and Aino entered with a tray of coffee, I pushed myself off the couch. Sigis held on to my hand like a lifeline. “I’m afraid it’s not the right time.”

  “And if someone else initiates the coronation trials? What then?” Sigis said.

  My heart did a quick double-beat, and my fingers twitched involuntarily in Sigis’s hand. “No one outside the ducal family has instigated the coronation trials for decades,” Eirhan replied fo
r me.

  Sigis’s smile broadened. His fingers tightened on mine until I was pretty sure I couldn’t feel them anymore. “Perhaps two could embark on the trials together.”

  My fraying temper got the better of me. “Maybe if you move your army, we can talk about it.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was giving Sigis the upper hand.

  “Certainly. My men have heard so much about your fine city, and they’re eager to lodge within it.”

  “I—we don’t have space,” I stammered. “You can arrange food trade with Minister Urso, but your men will have to stay outside.”

  “You can’t leave my men out in the cold.” Sigis tilted his head, and his hand pulled at mine, keeping me on a leash like a dog. “You can’t leave me out in the cold.”

  Don’t make a gagging sound. Don’t make a gagging sound. I forced my lips to stretch. “I’m afraid we can’t accommodate a visiting army. We were expecting a brideshow, not an invasion.”

  Sigis chuckled, shaking his head. Gods, I hated him. “You always had a way with words, my Ekata.”

  If I had such a way with words, why couldn’t I get him to do what I wanted? He bowed over my hand and pressed another forceful kiss into it, then left.

  Any daughter will do. I’d never thought I’d be on the receiving end of Sigis’s charm. Unease pricked at my skin like an icy thorn. Did Sigis want the duchy enough to betray my father, curse my family, and single me out as the weakest wolf in the pack? Someone had organized the curse and sent the court spinning toward ruin. It could be Reko, hell-bent on a parliament—but wasn’t it terribly convenient that Sigis showed up with his army, right when we were most vulnerable?

  “Your Grace is having an eventful day,” Eirhan observed.

  “Did he really threaten to start the coronation trials?” I groaned, taking the steaming cup Aino offered me.

  Eirhan steepled his fingers, and he looked far too thoughtful for my liking. “You would be unstoppable if you faced them together,” he mused.

  No. “You’ve been telling everyone we wouldn’t run them.”

  “Sigis’s ambition is both a curse and a blessing. If he contends with you in the coronation trials, we stand to lose everything. If he joins with you, no minister will dare oppose you. And… when your father wakes”—I was pretty sure he’d stifled if—“he will take back the throne and you’ll be protected by your new status as queen of Drysiak.”

  Eirhan had a point. But I’d still be married to Sigis.

  Eirhan drew a stack of paper out of his robe. They were stamped with a seal the color of Sigis’s coat. “Your father would also be pleased at your political acumen. He corresponded with Sigis for years on the subject of a bride. More than anything, Sigis wants access to trade. Whether he achieves it through diplomacy, through force, or through the coronation trials seems to be a matter of which is easiest.”

  “And he thinks marrying me will be easy?”

  Aino snickered into her coffee cup, and Eirhan tried to hide his laugh behind a cough. “Your Grace is a veritable font of humor,” he said, “but you should consider the offer. You are in a position of weakness, and Sigis is strength. You are eligible, and you must marry. If you select him, you’ll never argue with ministers like Reko again. Not with an army like that camped on the banks.”

  “And in return, I have to surrender the duchy.” The duchy Above had been independent for hundreds of years. I couldn’t be the duke who gave it all away. And what would happen to it then? Would we break the tenuous bond between Above and Below, destroy the magic that kept our city on top of the lake? Would that crack the ice sheet and send us plummeting into the depths?

  “I believe that Sigis is reasonable and that an agreement can be reached that maintains the independence of Kylma without sacrificing its reigning monarch. Satisfactory trade agreements would give Sigis the edge he really wants.”

  I could cement power and save the duchy by tethering myself to Sigis. Which meant I couldn’t do it at all.

  Father had always liked Sigis best. They shared a love of power that kept them talking politics late into the night, and Father never had to fear him, because Sigis would eventually go home. I watched Sigis learn over those few years—I watched him learn that he was safe from my family’s murder sickness, and I watched him learn that we were not safe from him. I’d watched Sigis carefully enough to know that he took anything that might be useful to him.

  And when it was no longer useful, he broke it.

  “The rest of the delegates have begun to arrive. Those who don’t have spies within the walls will hear soon enough that the brideshow has met with… insurmountable difficulty. You’ll need to show them that you’re strong, decisive, able. That they have no wish to antagonize or attack you. With Sigis’s support, that will be much easier. Not to mention the spectacle of the coronation trials will give them something to talk about, now that the brideshow is canceled.”

  “I can’t.” I couldn’t let him use me. I wouldn’t let him trample the entire North. I cast about the Rose Room, as if the answer hid inside the flowers. They curled and burst in bunches, a constant reminder. Superstition. I reached for Aino’s hand.

  Eirhan regarded us with that strange, inscrutable expression. “What will you do instead?”

  I didn’t know.

  “If Sigis is going to accept you, we’ll need strong contracts in place.” Eirhan shuffled through the pile of letters.

  “Of course we will,” I muttered.

  “I’m going to draft—”

  “No.”

  “—and ensure that any contract is favorable to us,” Eirhan finished. “Bringing it up will imply that you are seriously considering him, without making any commitments. Perhaps a hint that you will acquiesce when the trials are over, if he throws his support behind you now.”

  “And he won’t see through the ruse?”

  “Sigis knows that your position is delicate. Starting the trials will have consequences no matter what. But if Sigis thinks he has a shot at you, he’ll make sure you stay safe.”

  I squeezed Aino’s hand to stop mine from shaking. Yes, he’d keep me safe. And then, when my ministers were cowed and my position was secure, then I’d have no choice. I could marry Sigis or have the whole thing come crashing down. I could sell myself or go to war.

  And if my family woke—when my family woke—my father would be happy to get rid of me.

  “You want me to marry him,” I said quietly.

  “Your Grace will never have as powerful a suitor,” Eirhan said. “And you have to get married sometime. There are worse options.”

  That’s where you’re wrong. Sigis was cruel because he could be. He didn’t have the political acumen of someone like Eirhan, but he didn’t need it, either. When he could break an arm between his hands, what need did he have for words?

  I needed a way out. “Let me think about it,” I said.

  “Let me draft preliminary agreements,” Eirhan countered.

  We each waited for the other to blink.

  I let him think that I blinked first. “Only preliminary.”

  Eirhan nodded, and as he dipped his chin, I thought I saw the curve of a smile. It was gone when he looked back up. “Only preliminary, Your Grace.”

  Aino and I stormed back to the royal wing, past whispering ministers and servants who kept their heads down as they dusted off tapestries and put fresh wood in the grates and checked for notes in messenger bowls. When we got to my rooms, I slammed the door in poor Viljo’s face. Aino took my hand, trying to soothe me as I fumed silently.

  “We can still run,” she said.

  “Where?” I asked bitterly.

  It was a rhetorical question, but Aino set her mouth. “South. Why not? We leave the palace first, head for one of the villas in the mountains. From there we pick a route, and we take it.” She raised her eyebrows. South meant the university, of course.

  I felt a little stab of longing. I’d been so close.…“I can’t ab
andon the duchy.”

  Her fingers tightened on my arm. “You’re the grand duke. You can do what you like.”

  Except choose my own husband and future.

  “What if this is your last chance?” Aino asked.

  “It won’t be,” I said, ignoring the jolt of nerves that came with the thought. I would find the cure. I would win—against Sigis, against everyone. And I’d take my victory to the university.

  She relented, dropping her gaze. “Fine, but just—be careful. You’re a target now. Everyone is your enemy.”

  “You’re not,” I pointed out. Aino gave me her classic That’s not what I meant look. “Farhod’s not. And if Eirhan were, why would he bother making me grand duke in the first place? He could have killed us when he stormed my rooms.” I meant it as a joke, but it was easier to imagine than I’d have liked. How close we’d come to dying, how maybe I only lived on his whim. Because he needed someone to keep Kylma Above afloat.

  Aino’s eyes brimmed with worry. She spoke softly, slowly, pressing my fingers with hers. “This is my first lesson in politics: If a minister thinks he can use you, he will try. If he doesn’t, he will try to kill you.”

  She’d always been so worried about me. I made her fret at least twice a week, and now she looked as though she wanted to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

  She frowned. “For what?”

  “For making fun of you last night. For ignoring you. You were concerned, and I didn’t think it was relevant—”

  “My dear.” She sighed, releasing my hands so that she could pat my cheek. “Don’t dwell on that. You have so much to worry about now.”

  I sat down at my desk, but I couldn’t concentrate. The idea of Sigis slipping a ring on my finger, taking my mother’s throne—no, my father’s, for I knew he’d never be content as the grand consort when he could somehow connive to be duke—filled me with a buzzing anxiousness. Eirhan said it was only a preliminary treaty, but if I didn’t preempt him somehow, he’d have my brideshow announced and closed before I realized it was happening.