War of the Bastards

by Andrew Shvarts

  “With that said, before we get to the festivities, I have one announcement to make,” Lyriana went on. “My first Decree. And I believe it will be a fairly significant one. As the sitting Queen of Noveris, the sole monarch of the realm, I declare that th—”

  “Your Majesty,” Rulys Cal cut in, and every head swung to stare at him. His pact with Lyriana wasn’t formally announced, but it was common knowledge, and the room shook with gasps and whispers. “I believe, before making any Decrees, we should confer? Perhaps make an announcement?”

  I gritted my teeth, digging my nails into the skin of my palm. Of course Cal would try to make this moment about him. It was a power play, plain and simple, right now at the moment of Lyriana’s coronation, and if she needed me to punch him in his stupid face, I totally would.

  Lyriana didn’t seem to need any punching. “Honored Dyn,” she said, nodding her head like she’d seen this coming all along. “I understand why you’d want to speak with me. I know you’ve come here with great expectations.”

  “Expectations,” Cal repeated, cautiously. “I don’t consider honoring a promise an expectation, but a vow. And you vowed we would be wed.”

  The murmur ran through the room again, even louder. So it was out in public now. Syan tensed up in her seat, and I sucked in my breath. But Lyriana looked totally unfazed. “I regret that I must disappoint you,” Lyriana said. “There will be no marriage.”

  Cal’s nostrils flared, and his face reddened. His countrymen all rose behind him, and everyone else scooted away, like this was really going to erupt into violence here and now. “You liar,” he hissed. “How dare you? How dare you? After everything I did for you?” He turned away, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. Of course you’d betray me. Why would I trust a lying Volaris wh—”

  “Honored Dyn,” Lyriana cut in, the gracious smile never leaving her face, which felt like the ultimate power move. “Before you finish that sentence and say something you’ll regret, I recommend you hear my Decree. After all, there’s more than one way to become a King.”

  Cal blinked, frozen mid-word. “I’m listening,” he said at last.

  Lyriana cleared her throat. “As the sitting Queen of Noveris, the monarch of the realm, I declare that the borders of the Kingdom be immediately redrawn to end at the Evergreen Mountains to the east, the Adelphus fork to the south, and the Frostkiss Mountains to the west. I shall rule over only the original territory of Noveris, the Heartlands. All lands of conquest are returned to their people.”

  The room was dead silent. There wasn’t even a rippling murmur now, because everyone was just too stunned for that. Not just all the visitors either, who were gaping at the throne slack-jawed, but the rest of us as well. I stared at Lyriana, at her elegant smile, at the confidence and relief in her eyes. This was her moment of choice, her shattering the crystal, on a scale that was maybe even bigger than mine. With one sentence, she’d undone five hundred years of history. With one sentence, she’d changed everything.

  I knew the rational thing would be to have some skepticism or doubt, or at least concern over what the future would hold. But screw that. I looked right at Lyriana and grinned, big and wide and proud. But her eyes weren’t on me. They were on Syan sitting in the front row, Syan who stared up at her like she was looking at a goddess, totally and utterly in love.

  Good for her. Good for them.

  Rulys Cal was the first to break the silence. “Are you saying…?” he asked, unable to complete the thought.

  “I am. The Southlands are yours.” Lyriana dipped her head in the subtlest hint of a bow. “Your Majesty.”

  Cal stared at her for a while. His countrymen stared at him, and the rest of us stared at them. It felt like a whole lot was hanging on this moment. Then Cal nodded and forced a smile. “As you will, Your Majesty. And may the friendship between our Kingdoms be long and prosperous.”

  An Eastern Baron was the next to speak, a burly, exceptionally pale man with snowflakes painted by his eyes. “And our lands? The Baronies?”

  “Free city-states once more, as they were in the days of old,” Lyriana said, and I swear her smile seemed a little more genuine. “I imagine you’ll have some very interesting conversations in your future.” Her gaze flitted to the Westerners at the back. “And before you ask, the same goes for you, my Lords. The West is a free Kingdom once again.”

  The Western Lords didn’t react, not immediately, but I saw them glance at each other uneasily. I got the feeling they’d be uneasy for the rest of their lives.

  “Your Majesty,” Galen said, and rose to his feet. He’d asked to serve Lyriana as her Inquisitor, and she’d accepted, on the condition the role was changed to Advisor; after everything we’d been through, everyone felt like maybe it was time to give Inquisitors a rest. “If I may have a word?” He spoke quietly, so quietly even sitting in the front row I could barely make out the words. “Your Decree is far easier said than done. There will be conflicts about borders and unhappy Lords and—”

  “I know,” Lyriana replied, her eyes not leaving the crowd, the smile not leaving her face. “And we have a lifetime to deal with the practicalities. But for tonight, let’s enjoy the spirit of it, shall we?”

  Galen nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  The room was starting to hum again, a chattering wave that threatened to break into a roar. Lyriana rose from the throne and strode toward the crowd, one hand raised. “I know this is quite a lot to take in. I will take visitors all day tomorrow to hear concerns and address questions. But for now, let’s put aside the politicking and enjoy one another’s company. The war is over. The continent is at peace. And if I may compliment my Head Stewards, they’ve prepared a truly wondrous feast.” She threw a wave toward the end of the room, by the doors to the Feasting Hall, where Marlo and Garrus stood in matching white suits, trying to look professional but unable to contain their smiles. “Let us adjourn.”

  It was a great closer, but it still felt like the room wasn’t quite ready, still processing what had happened. So I did the only thing I could. I rose to my feet, turned back to the crowd and pressed my fist to my heart. “Long live the Queen!”

  Then Zell was up, next to me. “Long live the Queen!” And Syan was up, and Ellarion too, and Galen, and then Cal was on his feet, and he shouted it too, and that was the symbol, the final blow that broke the dam. Everyone was up and cheering and crying, shouting and laughing, welcoming the future, consequences be damned. Even Lord Collinwood bellowed it, his voice thundering through the room. And in that wild noise, in that chaotic joy, Lyriana walked up to the front row and took Syan by the hands and looked into her eyes.

  “Long live the Queen,” Syan said.

  “With you by my side, I will,” Lyriana replied, and kissed her, and then I couldn’t see anything because I was crying too hard.

  The feast was, as promised, amazing. We dined on a buffet of foods from all over the Kingdom, well, the Kingdoms now: flaky meat pies from Lightspire, sizzling clams from the East, liquor-filled confections from the Southlands, and stuffed quail from the West. Ale and wine flowed, musicians played, and I let Zell twirl me on the dance floor while my whole body tingled with warmth. I saw Marlo hustling around to make sure everyone tried his favorite dishes, saw Princess Aurelia stuffing her mouth with cakes, saw Ellarion making out with an Eastern beauty, saw Lord Collinwood downing an entire flagon of beer in one gulp, and I even saw Rulys Cal smile, like, a genuine smile.

  Lyriana fluttered around the room like a butterfly, chatting with all the Lords and Ladies, alleviating fears and making promises. I watched her like a hawk, and when she finally vanished through a side door for a breath of fresh air, I followed her out. She stood on a shimmersteel balcony, a rounded ledge fifty stories up that looked out over the city. The air was unusually warm for the fall, and the sky was bright and clear overhead, a thousand brilliant stars lighting up the night. Below us the city was…well, not rebuilt. But the fires were out and the columns of smo
ke were gone and it looked gentle, calm, at peace. Lyriana stood against the railing, gazing out in her cream gown, a vision.

  “Hey, Your Majesty,” I said.

  She glanced back at me and smiled. “Please. I’ve got a lifetime of being called that. You of all people don’t have to.”

  I walked over and joined her, leaning with my back against the railing. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Surprisingly good,” Lyriana replied. “I have so much work ahead of me, I don’t know how I’ll ever rest, but…good. It’s odd to say it, with the whole world still in catastrophic danger, but I think I actually have hope.” She turned to me, and in that moment, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her golden eyes bright and pure, she didn’t look like the regal Queen or the charismatic ruler I’d gotten used to. She just looked like my friend. “Am I out of my mind?”

  “Well, you did just upend the power balance of the entire continent,” I said. “You’ve got to be a little out of your mind to do that.”

  Lyriana snorted a laugh. “If you think that’s bad, wait until I reveal my plan to hold a popular vote every five years to determine who should be the next monarch.”

  I stared at her. “Are you joking?”

  “Zell explained how the Zitochi select their Chief of Clans through a vote. It seems like a pretty good system.” She shrugged. “Besides. What kind of a Queen would I be if my own people didn’t want me to rule?”

  I shook my head, because creating a way for her people to depose her was peak Lyriana. “How’s Syan?”

  “She’s good, too,” Lyriana said, glancing back into the feasting hall, where Syan was chatting with Ellarion on a bench. “She helped me craft some of the proposals. She misses her home a lot, but I think she’s starting to settle in here, to find her place.”

  “You two seem happy.”

  “Oh, Tilla, you don’t know the half of it,” Lyriana said, and I could tell she was just dying to talk about it. “She’s so smart and kind and insightful, and she just gets me, just understands me, like no one ever has. And she’s funny too, when no one’s watching, and oh, in the bedroom, she’s just…I mean…wow.” Lyriana glanced down, her cheeks suddenly flushed. “Too much information?”

  “Maybe a little.” I grinned. Together, we looked through the transparent doors into the feasting halls. The Barons were arguing about something, shouting at each other in that Eastern way that sounds like they’re really mad but is actually just them mildly disagreeing, while Galen had a serious-looking chat with Cal. Lord Collinwood was passed out on a table, but the other two Western Lords stood behind him, whispering to each other while glancing around.

  “When did you decide to do it?” I asked Lyriana. “Release all the conquered lands, I mean.”

  Lyriana shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s something I’ve imagined doing for a long time, I think, but never had the courage to really consider, not until you destroyed that crystal. After that, it just seemed like it was time to do the right thing, no matter the risk.”

  “Not to raise any doubt, but…won’t it make regulating magic more difficult?”

  “You know, I thought that, but I’m not convinced,” Lyriana said. “The truth is, there’s no way we’re going to move past magic as a people without all coming together. Whether we’re one Kingdom or four, we all have to agree to work toward a common goal. And if we have less war and conflict, less oppression and rebellion, maybe that’ll be easier.”

  “Do you think we’ll have peace? Between the new Kingdoms, I mean?”

  “I hope so.” Lyriana paused then, glancing out at the city below, like there was a thought she was struggling with. “Tilla…I do have one last favor to ask of you. And it’s a big one.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “The Southlands will be fine; Cal’s already been ruling as the Dyn for the past six months, and I trust him. And the Eastern Baronies will be too busy competing with each other to pose any threat. But the West is going to be a problem.”

  My heart sank, because of course my people were the ones who’d ruin everything. “Yeah. I know. A lot of those Western Lords were very loyal to my father.”

  “Yes. With your father gone, the West is poised for a huge power struggle over who will be its new King. We’re looking at major unrest, a war between the Lords, one that could well spill over the border and restart the conflict we’ve just resolved.” Lyriana pursed her lips. “Unless.”

  “Unless…?”

  “Unless the West rallied around a new leader, one who unified the Lords and convinced them that peace was the way forward,” Lyriana said, her gaze on the horizon. “Someone inspiring and impressive, someone with a bold vision for the future, someone who I could have a good relationship with. Someone the Lords could rally around.” A chill breeze passed over us, and the shimmersteel walls of the Godsblade sparkled iridescent. “Someone who just so happens to hold the rightful claim to the seat of House Kent.”

  My stomach plunged, and my knees went weak. “No. You can’t be…not…I mean…that’s not…” Words had never felt more difficult, and I grasped the railing to keep from stumbling. “You’re asking me to be…”

  “To be a Queen,” Lyriana said. “Trust me, it’s not as bad as you’d think.”

  “That’s easy for you to say!” I stammered. “I mean, you’ve trained for it your whole life. Me, I’m a bastard. A nobody. And now you’re ordering me to go be a Queen?”

  “I’m not ordering anything,” Lyriana gently clarified. “What you do is your choice.”

  “They won’t accept me,” I tried. “I’m a traitor.”

  “You’re a Kent. And as long as there has been a West, there has been a Kent on the redwood throne, ruling over it. Your name, your word, holds tremendous power. As, for that matter, does mine,” Lyriana said. “Trust me. They’ll accept you.”

  “Okay, but, even if they do, I’m not a Queen. I have no idea how to be one!” I shook my head. “I can’t do it, Lyriana.”

  “Sure you can,” she said, and she really actually meant it. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You always do the right thing, even when the cost is unthinkable. You’re smart and resourceful and a natural leader. And you’d make a better Queen than anyone else in the world.”

  My head was still spinning, my legs jelly. Sure, it was my choice, but it also very much wasn’t my choice, in that there was no way I could ever actually say no. I had to do it. After everything we’d fought for, after everything we’d sacrificed, who would I be if I let it all go to hell again? If Lyriana was right, if this was the best way to ensure a continent at peace, of course I had to do it. For my father. For Markiska. For Jax.

  “Shit,” I whispered. That future, that cottage, that simple life with Zell, vanished into ash like the fleeting dream it had always been. Instead, I’d be going home. Back to the West, to Castle Waverly, and its towering redwoods and mist-shrouded beaches. I’d be going…

  “I’d have to leave you,” I said to Lyriana, and the sudden rush of emotion tightened in my chest like a fist around my heart. In all the chaos of the past two years, Lyriana had been a constant, my best friend, one of the only people I could always rely on. She’d always been there for me, whether it was riding through the West or cuddling after a Lightspire party or washing the blood off my hands in a rebel camp tent. The thought of leaving her behind made me feel like I was drowning. “I wouldn’t see you anymore.”

  “We’d still see each other, silly,” Lyriana said, but her voice was a little choked up in her throat. “Our Kingdoms would be close allies. We’d meet several times a year to make plans and negotiate. And I’ll make sure the wine casks are always well-stocked.”

  I knew that was a joke, but I was still hung up on the two utterly unreal words that had come out of her mouth: our Kingdoms. And as I stood there on that balcony, the future looming in front of me like a gathering storm, I had the most vivid flashback to the moment when we’d met, at the Bastard Table so long ago. I’d be
en a snotty bastard who only cared about impressing my father. She’d been a naive little Princess who’d never kissed anyone or hurt a fly. And now here we stood, two battle-scarred veterans, two hardened women, two future Queens. How had we gone from there to here? How much further did we have to go?

  How was I ever going to do it without her?

  I leaned forward and hugged her, really hugged her, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. “I love you so much, Lyriana,” I said.

  “I love you too, Tilla,” she said, and kissed me softly on the cheek. Then she turned back to the party, taking my hand and leading me in. “Now come on. The night’s still young and the future’s still a ways off. Let’s go have a drink.”

  “Or three,” I said, then brushed my eyes with the back of one hand and followed her in.

  I’D SEEN A LOT OF amazing things in my eighteen years. I’d watched a storm burst over the blazing red sands of the Red Wastes. I’d seen the Godsblade lit up like a pillar of light, sparkling a thousand colors against the darkness. I’d seen the Festival of Tears and the snows on the Frostkiss Mountains.

  But still…nothing was prettier than a Western sunrise.

  I stood alone in the sentry tower on Castle Waverly’s eastern wall, leaning against the ancient stone of the parapet, gazing out at the sprawl of redwood forest below. The sun was rising up above the horizon behind me, painting the sky a beautiful rosy orange, with tinges of emerald from the fading Coastal Lights. Whenever I’d missed the West, it had always been images that came into my mind, but now that I was back, what I found myself noticing was all the other senses, all the little things I’d forgotten. The smell of the forest, smoky and earthy, like a campfire the morning after it had been put out. The sounds of the night, the whooshing of wind through the treetops and the distant hooting of owls. The crackle of frost underneath my boots as I walked, and the taste of the air, a hint of ocean salt.