The Queen of Ieflaria
Page 18
“Was this book written by a dragon?” asked Esofi.
Adale looked down at the book before her and imagined a dragon dipping the end of his silver claw into an enormous inkwell, trying to fit words onto tiny pages.
“He must have had a Man to perform the transcription,” said Adale, though the image that this conjured up was only slightly less ridiculous.
Esofi rested the side of her face in one hand and stared at nothing.
“Have you ever seen a dragon use magic before?” asked Adale.
Esofi shook her head. “A dragon with Talcia’s magic would be a terrible thing to see,” she said. “But they are one of her finest creations, and I can believe it was once so. It just seems odd that she would stop granting them magic.”
“Unless she’s angry at them,” pointed out Adale. “They’re going out and acting like dumb beasts and getting themselves killed. Maybe she decided they don’t deserve magic anymore. Like she did here in Ieflaria when her worship started dying out.”
Adale and Esofi returned to the palace for the evening meal. Adale was satisfied with all that she had accomplished so far, but she wondered if Esofi felt the same way. Did she blame Adale for taking her attention away from the newly blessed mages, or had she enjoyed poring over the old book?
But Adale was back the very next morning, ready to find more information that might be valuable. While Esofi continued to instruct the new-blessed Ieflarians, Adale continued to work her way through the ancient text. It was not as much fun without Esofi there to discuss her ideas with, but she was determined not to bother the princess until she found something important.
And so it was not until well past noon that Adale happened upon something that prompted her to run downstairs and drag Esofi away from her training. So great was her excitement that she practically pushed the princess up the stairs, though this was made difficult by the size and density of Esofi’s skirts. Fortunately, Esofi was not offended and laughed as Adale tried and failed to hurry her along.
Once upstairs, Adale rushed over to the table and grabbed the book before Esofi even had a chance to seat herself.
“Here, listen!” Adale said. She looked up to make sure Esofi was paying attention and then began to read. “The Flight is led by the Most Blessed. The Most Blessed is…selected by Mother…as the most powerful and…devoted…and is given…” Adale frowned. “The scent? The scent which compels obedience and unity among the Flight in times of danger.”
“Compels?” repeated Esofi.
“I think the emperor’s control over the other dragons is more powerful than him just outranking them,” Adale explained. “It seems like he might actually be able to force them to follow his orders. I don’t know if it’s magic or something simpler. But it almost reminds me of bees in a swarm, obeying their queen.”
Esofi looked thoughtful. “Did you see any mention of a way to break his influence?”
“No. But I think the emperor isn’t supposed to go around controlling everyone all the time. From what the book says, I think it’s because dragons aren’t good at working as a community. They’re too independent. But if a bigger threat comes along, they need to work together. That’s where the emperor comes in.”
“So the emperor has decided that mankind is a threat they must band together against,” mused Esofi. “I only wish I knew why.”
“Perhaps we can take one hostage and ask,” said Adale, prompting Esofi to laugh again. But Adale secretly wondered if she could do it, if she had her friends and some soldiers and some battlemages along to aid in the capture.
Esofi must have sensed her thoughts, because she said, “I do not believe your parents would appreciate you taking such a risk. Nor would I.”
“Don’t say that, there’s still the twins.” Adale smiled. “One way or another, you will have your wedding.”
“It’s not about the wedding,” said Esofi. “I do not wish to see you killed, for your own sake.”
Adale waved her hand to cover her discomfort. “Never mind that.”
“But I do mind,” Esofi said. “Very much. Or do you intend to blame yourself forever?”
“Everyone else does,” retorted Adale. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“They do not,” Esofi insisted, leaning forward. “And even if they did, they are wrong. It was an accident. It is not as though you murdered him for the crown.”
Adale could not help but laugh, and it seemed to free some of the darkness in her heart. “Yes, fortunately there was no question of that.”
“You are trying, Adale,” said Esofi. “Perhaps you will never be what Albion was, but you are not Albion. Nor are you the careless young woman I met two weeks ago. I hope you know how much that means to me—and to Ieflaria.”
Adale hoped her cheeks weren’t too red. Desperate to turn the subject away from herself, she said, “You’re different too, you know.”
“Am I?” Esofi laughed in surprise. “How so?”
“When you first arrived in Ieflaria, you would never have slipped away from a ball to dance in a tavern with foreign peasants,” Adale reminded her.
“I didn’t dance,” said Esofi quietly.
“You might have if the dragon hadn’t attacked so soon. My point stands.” Adale crossed her arms. “Come on. Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go find something to eat.”
Accompanied by a few guards, Adale and Esofi returned to the palace. The air was mild, and the sun was not too strong, and so they decided to take tea on the green, in the place where they first met.
“The priestesses have had a trying week,” observed Esofi. “But I like to think they are grateful for the excitement. The Temple of Talcia seemed to be a rather quiet place before I arrived.”
“You make the priestesses anxious,” Adale admitted. “Or I suppose I should say, your mother does.”
Esofi’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “What do they say?” She set down her teacup.
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know much,” said Adale, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “They’re just afraid that you…or the Silence of the Moon…will undermine them. Like the Order of the Sun and the Temple of Iolar.”
Esofi sighed. “I do not wish to undermine the temple, but I understand their apprehension.”
“What is the Silence of the Moon?” asked Adale. “That is…if you’re allowed to tell me.”
Esofi rested her arms on the table. “It is not a secret, exactly, but there was something very mysterious and elite about it in Rhodia. My mother liked to claim it was the way Talcia preferred to be worshipped, away from temples and civilization. I do not know if she was correct, but I do know that it was pleasant to spend time away from the palace.”
“What did you do, once you were out in the wilderness?” asked Adale.
Esofi was quiet for a moment, thinking of her answer.
“To an observer, it might not seem that we were worshipping at all. But when Talcia’s children worship her, they do not cease their daily lives. They have no rituals or songs, and they build no temples or statues. They simply…live. To exist in her wilderness, with our thoughts focused on her love, is no different from how a gryphon or a roc worships.” She smiled up at Adale. “You would probably find it terribly boring.”
“Maybe,” said Adale. “But I find temples boring as well. I am only having difficulty picturing you barefoot in a forest somewhere.”
Esofi laughed. “It is too cold in Rhodia to go barefoot. Besides, it was not as rustic as you are thinking—the court would not tolerate that. We had great camps prepared so that we could return to luxury when the desire struck us.”
“That sounds like cheating to my ears,” teased Adale.
“Perhaps! But we are still Men, for all that my mother wishes she were a dragon. I think Talcia cannot fault us for the traits her husband gave us.” Esofi looked thoughtful, pensive. “I would like to see the Ieflarian wilderness. Particularly your northern lands. I am sure they are beautiful.”
> “Perhaps you should arrange for a tour of the kingdom to follow your wedding,” suggested Adale. “I’m sure nobody could object to it—dragons are no match against you, and the people would love to see more of you.”
Esofi smiled. “Perhaps.” But before either of them could say any more, they were interrupted by a breathless maid.
“My ladies,” she whispered, chest heaving. “Forgive my intrusion, but Lady Svana and Lord Brandt have returned to the city. And they have brought with them—”
“Their manners?” muttered Adale.
“Shh, be polite,” said Esofi. She smiled at the maid. “Where are they?”
“On their way,” said the maid, pointing across the green. “You can already see everyone gathering.”
She was correct. Where there had been nothing but empty lawn and a few idle courtiers five minutes ago was now a swiftly growing crowd of onlookers who spoke excitedly to one another.
Adale frowned and got up. “What’s this all about?” But nobody seemed to have an answer for her. Then from up ahead, there was a shout of “Step aside!” and the crowd parted, revealing the twins. Something large and white walked between them, shying away from every sudden movement.
“What do they have?” asked Adale. “A horse?” Though she’d never seen a horse of such a color before. Its coat was painfully white, like harsh winter sunlight gleaming over fresh snow, and it was slender and long-legged, like the horses of Masim and the southern lands, but there was something not precisely right about the shape of it. Something quite unlike a horse at all.
Before Adale could inspect her thoughts more closely, before she could consider the cloven hooves or strange tuft of hair at the animal’s chin or the leonine tail that swept from side to side anxiously—before she could do any of that, the creature turned its head to the side and Adale saw, for the first time, the long and gleaming crystal horn that protruded from its forehead.
Esofi spilled her tea down the front of her dress.
Immediately, two different maids lunged forward with cloths to soak up the liquid, but Esofi seemed not to notice them. She moved toward the twins as if in a trance, and her hands very gently went to the unicorn’s face.
“It has lived on our mother’s lands for as long as anyone can remember,” Brandt was saying in a loud voice. “But we are the only ones who have managed to catch it.”
“You must tell me how you did it,” said Esofi.
“I sang to it,” said Svana smugly. A rope of glittering green magic was wrapped around the unicorn’s neck and clasped firmly in her hands. Adale almost bit through her own cheek while Esofi continued to exclaim over the creature.
“Do you like it?” asked Brandt at last.
“I love it,” said Esofi. She looked up. “This is so thoughtful. I shall never forget this. But…” She gazed at the unicorn, and it gazed back at her, almost…knowingly?
“But?” prompted Svana.
“Unicorns are magical creatures of the wild,” said Esofi gently. “To confine one in a city would be wrong. You must bring him back to your mother’s estate.”
“Then you reject the gift?” asked Brandt.
“This moment is gift enough,” said Esofi. She lowered her hands. “Promise me you’ll have him sent home?”
The twins glanced at each other, speaking with their hands and eyebrows in that way they sometimes did.
“Of course, Princess,” said Brandt, inclining his head slightly. “Of course.”
THE MOURNING PERIOD was over, and Adale found that she was actually looking forward to the engagement ball. Esofi had not made a formal announcement regarding her choice—that would be done at the ball itself—but confidence filled Adale with a warm glow.
Her mother seemed to agree, and it was with the contributions of what felt like every lady in the castle that Adale prepared for the evening. At the end of it, she was dressed in a gown made of midnight-blue silk with her braids coiled around her head in a complicated and somewhat uncomfortable way that nevertheless perfectly suited the tiara her mother had given her as a gift that same evening. Everything was new, from her shoes to her stockings to her gloves, and when she looked in the mirror, Adale thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be the worst queen in Ieflarian history.
She thanked her mother and her ladies profusely for their help and set off to find Lethea and Daphene, who had disappeared at some point during the application of face powder. As she walked down the familiar hallways, she noted to herself that the shoes weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as she’d assumed they would be.
The halls were so quiet it was almost eerie, but that didn’t dampen her spirits. Adale smiled to herself, wondering what trouble her friends had gotten themselves into this time and hoping it wouldn’t require any running or lifting to get them out of it—the dress was so delicate, she was afraid it might tear if someone looked at it too hard.
She didn’t notice the tendril of emerald light snaking around her foot until it slammed her to the ground.
When her vision cleared, all she could see were the twins sneering down at her.
“What are you doing?” shrieked Adale.
The twins both rolled their eyes in unison. “What do you think we’re doing, Adale?” retorted Svana. “We don’t know why you’re insisting upon carrying out this farce. You’d only doom Ieflaria if you married the princess.”
Adale tried to get up, but the vines were multiplying, binding her hands and legs together. “So this is your plan?” she cried, outraged. “You think that Esofi won’t hear about how you assaulted the crown princess? I’ll tell her that—”
“By all means, inform Princess Esofi,” said Svana cheerfully. “I’m sure she’ll believe that your loving cousins committed treason and risked exile to lock you in a room for twelve hours when it’s far more likely that you just changed your mind about the marriage and ran off to get drunk in some horrible tavern.”
A tendril wrapped itself around her head and across her mouth, cutting off any reply Adale might have given. The twins moved quickly, dragging Adale along the ground until they reached a familiar door—Albion’s old room. Brandt pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and they shoved Adale inside. With a sudden slam of the door, Adale was alone in darkness with only the faintly glowing light of emerald magic.
Adale tried to scream, but the vine in her mouth didn’t allow for it. She wriggled desperately, but the magical vines weren’t like rope. They couldn’t be broken or loosened at all.
Of course. Of course. Why had she thought the twins would just accept the loss gracefully? She had been so distracted by the dragons and so certain of Esofi’s affections that she’d completely failed to keep an eye on the twins, despite knowing perfectly well that they were more of a threat than ever before with their new magical abilities.
Thank you, Talcia, thought Adale. Why would the goddess give her gifts to those two? Why would any deity? Had Talcia known this would happen?
Had Talcia wanted it to happen?
Sod her. I don’t care what she wants. If Talcia wanted Esofi to marry one of the twins, she could come to Birsgen and tell her in person. Until then, Adale wasn’t going to give up. She paused to think and catch her breath. Iron was known to interfere with magic. Was there anything in the room made of iron? Adale focused, trying to pick out something helpful in the darkness.
But now the emerald vines were dissipating; either the twins had lifted the magic or it had worn off. The moment she was free, Adale scrambled to her feet and rushed to the door, only to find it was locked. She yanked at the handle and kicked repeatedly, but it was useless—this room had once belonged to the crown prince, and the door could withstand a siege.
“Hey!” yelled Adale. “Anybody! I’m locked in!”
But even as she shouted, she knew it was useless. Everyone from the lowest serving maid to the captain of the royal guard would be at the betrothal already.
Adale pressed her back to the door and slowly slid to the ground.
Still, she forced herself to get up and go to the window, stumbling in the darkness. Someone had removed the expensive glass and boarded it up, so Adale spent a few useless minutes cracking her nails as she tried to wrench the wood free before giving up.
Adale went to the especially dark corner of the room where she knew the fireplace was. Fortunately, it wasn’t boarded up, and after a minute of scrabbling around, she felt a handful of sad little coals within. It took a bit of searching to find the flint, but she managed to get the coals lit. They barely gave more light than the magical vines had, but it was enough to locate a candle and set it aglow.
After taking a moment to congratulate herself, Adale went over to Albion’s desk to see if there was anything useful inside. It was filled with all sorts of things—nobody had cleaned it out during the mourning period. Something colorful caught Adale’s eye.
It was a miniature portrait of a tiny blonde baby girl with ribbons and curls in a lacy white dress. She was standing, so Adale supposed she was old enough to walk on her own but had no idea how old the child might be beyond that. Adale picked it up to find there was a whole stack of portraits underneath, each no larger than her hand.
The next portrait was the same girl but looking a little older, in another delicate dress. The next one featured the girl again, but now she looked like she was about the same age as the castle pages. Adale set the picture aside and went to the next—the same girl but now the age of a temple acolyte, draped in pearls. Now she was familiar enough that Adale finally recognized her.