Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1)

by Rachel Higginson

  Whatever that might be.

  My stomach curdled and I thought I might be sick. My uncle had promised to punish me if I lost Conandra. Grief struck at my heart every time I remembered his cruelty to me.

  I tried to imagine myself in his shoes, if I had been the one to rule after I had lost everyone I loved, and then someone I thought was dead suddenly showed up at my doorstep.

  Wouldn’t I be skeptical? Wouldn’t I harbor ill will against the person trying to take the only thing I had left of my dead family?

  But there was more to my uncle than careful skepticism. Instinct told me that he believed I was who I said I was.

  It wasn’t doubt that made him behave this way. It was greed for the throne he occupied and the Crown of Nine.

  Matilda jerked the brush through the end of my copper colored curls and I nearly cursed at her. “I haven’t seen them,” she said. “I just overheard one of the footmen rushing to tell the herald that carriages were seen in town.”

  “How many carriages? Are they all here?”

  “Cannot say. But I doubt it. With all eight of ‘em en route, they couldn’t possibly arrive at once. Could they?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember what little education I’d had as a child. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Soravale, Tenovia, and Barstus will be the closest. Then Kasha, Aramore, and Vorestra. Heprin and Blackthorne are the farthest away. It will take them at least another three days. Depending on the pace of their travel, probably longer.”

  My heart pounded with possibilities. I only had maybe a week left before Conandra began.

  What then? Would they believe me? Would they also mistake me for the ghost of my mother?

  That reminded me. “Matilda, have you heard that this castle is haunted?”

  Her hands stilled in my hair. “Aye, I’ve heard that. But where did you hear such nonsense?”

  “The guards,” I admitted shamelessly. “They thought I was trying to escape when Shiksa knocked over a tea service the other day. I told them it was a ghost and they believed me. Don’t you find it strange that royal guards would believe in ghosts? And not just believe, but be truly afraid?”

  “I don’t know about that. I doubt they were afraid; more likely they were anxious to call a chambermaid is all.”

  I spun around, interrupting her work. “Matilda, they fled. I don’t know how else to describe it. I suggested a ghost to entertain myself and the three of them practically ran from the room.”

  She snapped her fingers and I turned back around so she could finish her work. “I’ve heard them speak about such things around the castle. There are rooms they believe to be haunted and they avoid them when they can. I’ve heard them speaking of things being moved, tables and chairs and candles and whatnot, but usually they’re more vexed than afraid. It is a strange thing. I’ve never seen a staff so concerned with ghosts and the like. In Soravale, King Hugo would shame us all for believing that pagan hogwash.”

  “Pagan? What do you mean?”

  In the religion of the Light, they didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits. I knew that. When a body died, if the person was good, the soul became part of the Light. A bad soul would become part of the Darkness, or Denamon. Throughout time the sun grew brighter and brighter with all the multitude of good souls. And Denamon darker and darker. The monks believed that a never-ending battle was being fought to see which side would win. They believed that at the beginning of time there was nothing but darkness, but people made the Light expand until the day was mostly light and only a small part given to the darkness.

  Matilda’s voice dropped and she leaned in over her work. “Aye, ghosts are for the pagans. They believe a soul with business still in the realm of the living will wander bodiless until that business can be resolved. They believe it is the right of the soul to avenge its death or pay back a debt before it crosses over the veil.”

  “Unresolved business?”

  “They believe the soul has power the body does not. It can move vases, for instance, if it’s wanting to catch the attention of a maid. Or knock a tea service over in a fit of rage. Ghosts are as real to the pagans as you and me. Although they may remain unseen to the common eye, the pagans believe restless spirits control all the magic left to this realm.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I thought back to everything my mother had ever told me about pagan religion. Never once had she mentioned ghosts and spirits. She had talked about magic, but she had never seemed to think it still existed. Magic was spoken of in the past tense, before peace and the Marble Wall existed. If she said anything about it at all, it was to illustrate a story or tell the legend of a hero. “I’ve met pagans before,” I declared. “I’ve never heard of them speak about magic as though they could still wield it.”

  “Well, then maybe you didn’t meet a real pagan,” she laughed. “I’ve only met a couple myself, but all of them believed in both kinds of magic.”

  I had an idea, but I wanted to hear her explain. A mystery had suddenly been put in my hands and I couldn’t help but greedily scoop up the clues. “Both kinds? What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, girl. See, now I don’t believe you’ve ever met a pagan. You’re just saying that to pull answers out of me.”

  “Matilda! I have met a pagan. I was very close with a pagan once. But I’ve never heard of this. Please explain. Otherwise I’ll be forced to escape this room and find a pagan myself.”

  “Dragon’s blood, child. Calm down.” She finished my hair with a flourish of her hands and gave me a little push so I could go see for myself. As I walked slowly to the mirror, she let out a deep sigh. “Alright, but don’t go telling nobody that it was me who told you this.”

  I grinned at her. “I won’t. I swear it. I won’t tell a soul. Or a ghost.”

  She waved my poor joke away with a flick of her hand. “There is white magic, the good kind. This is what resides with the good spirits. And then there is dark magic, some call it black magic. And this is what the evil spirits are said to employ. In fact, it’s said that the religion of the Light came from this idea. You know the pagan beliefs are much older than the Brotherhoods. Some believe the Brotherhoods stole the light and dark idea from the pagans and then outlawed all the other practices they couldn’t explain.”

  I looked at myself in the mirror, in awe of Matilda’s handiwork. My hair had been a catastrophe only minutes ago, but now I looked like a true lady. The braid started at my crown and wove down the side and over my shoulder. She somehow tied my hair into all those little pieces woven together while still managing to display the prettier curls.

  Maybe she had white magic.

  I played with the end of the braid and met her eyes in the mirror. “Are you a strong believer in the Light?”

  Her head bobbed up and down and she didn’t hesitate to say, “Aye, of course. I’m very devoted to the Light. I spend every new moon at temple and take my offerings on all the right days.”

  I turned to face her, sensing that there was more. “But…?”

  She looked at me, then at her hands, then out the window. “But, I come from a rural village in Soravale, one near the Great Cliffs of Binash. Have you heard of them?” I shook my head. She didn’t seem surprised. “There are relics there, on the cliffs; old, crude, monuments from when the pagans worshipped freely. When we would travel to temple to leave our offerings, there would be offerings left to the pagan gods as well. One time, a boy about my age had fallen off the cliff. His dad found him with broken legs and a broken back. They were waiting for him to die, holding a vigil and such. I went with my mother to temple to pray for him, to offer what we could on his behalf. And as we passed the statues, I saw his mother there, knelt before the pagan gods and praying with all the strength that she had. I will never forget the sight because she was wailing so loud she seemed to shake the stars. But the strangest thing…” Matilda shivered and rubbed her arms as if to ward off the chill. “The strangest thing was the fireflies over her head. A hundre
d of them, I swear it. I’ll always remember that because we so rarely saw them and never that close to the Sea. The wind would push them back and into the trees. And yet there they were, as she prayed and cried out for her son, they hovered over her as if they were praying too.”

  I swallowed, struggling to accept her story. “What happened to the little boy?”

  She held my gaze. “He sat up in bed the next day. He even learned to walk again.”

  I couldn’t find the right response, but the sound of carriage wheels saved me from needing to. Matilda raced to the window. I followed her.

  We stood side by side while Shiksa jumped up to the windowsill to see what had captured our attention. I stroked her back as I tried to make out who was who.

  “Have you ever seen a royal coach that didn’t belong to Soravale?” I asked Matilda.

  “A few,” she murmured. “The one in front with the black and red banner is Tenovia.”

  “There’s Soravale,” I whispered. “Hugo and Anatal are here.” At least I had one ally in the bunch.

  We watched all the pomp and circumstance as Tyrn stepped out to greet the visiting monarchs. Tenovia’s sovereigns descended their carriages first, then the carriage drove away to make room for Hugo and Anatal.

  We waited for someone to summon me or announce progress with Conandra, but nobody came. Eventually Matilda retired for the evening and I took down my hair in favor of a bath.

  Near midnight, another carriage pulled up. I had just lain down in bed when the footmen started shouting to each other across the courtyard.

  Shiksa’s head lifted from the pillow next to me and her ears perked up. I turned to her. “Give me your best guess. Who do you think it is?”

  She canted her head to the side and stared at me like I’d gone mad.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll check. Don’t bother getting up.”

  She pushed my shoulder with her muzzle. I rolled my eyes. “Such a slave master, you are.”

  I winced at the cold stone beneath my feet and hurried over to the window, hopping back and forth on my toes.

  The elegant coach pulled up and tired footmen hustled around to accommodate the newly arrived monarchs. I peered into the dark and tried to make out the royal colors painted on the carriage.

  Finally, a footman appeared and let down the stairs, a purple carpet followed and rolled to the gravel. Tyrn appeared on the portico above and at last the door was opened. Gray traveling dress against purple carpet could only mean Barstus had arrived.

  With one more monarch in residence, I could feel Conandra looming.

  I was ready, though. As prepared as I could be.

  Although I’d hated these days of solitude, returning to this castle brought back memories. I remembered the sights and sounds and smells of all the different rooms and the twists and turns of the corridors. I remembered some of the faces of the older servants—servants Tyrn hadn’t fired or replaced—and I could swear they recognized me, too. The more they spent time with me, the more they saw the truth.

  They bowed with more respect. They brought food they knew I would like. Their gazes had softened. I hoped that if the servants could see me, the real me, that maybe the royals could as well.

  Conandra and the consequences of the trial hovered on the horizon, but I had truth on my side.

  That had to count for something.

  26

  The next two days brought arrivals from Vorestra and Kasha. Because both kingdoms hailed from different deserts, they displayed more interesting styles of coach and dress.

  A day later, a lavish carriage rolled down the royal drive. Aramore had never been subtle about its wealth and the coach boasted all that the silver and gold rich kingdom represented. The king and queen descended onto the gold carpet with an air of boredom. Tyrn smiled wider than he had with any other royals and doted on the queen. The entire sight made me queasy, and I’d had to take a nap when it was finished.

  Three days after that, the king of Heprin arrived. He was a squat older man with curled white hair, adorned with Heprin’s royal green and yellow. He had been widowed, so he arrived alone. This was the first I had ever seen him. I’d lived in the sanctuary of his country for eight years and yet it wasn’t until I returned to my own that we would meet.

  The arrival of Heprin’s king meant only one sovereign remained en route. The queen from Blackthorne. At first, I stayed near my window, believing she would glide down the royal drive at any moment. That moment stretched into a day, then four.

  Blackthorne was situated in the farthest corner of the realm, in the Ice Mountains north of the Serpent’s Sea. The smallest kingdom in the realm, Blackthorne had been a formidable force from the beginning thanks to a ruthless army and power-hungry monarchs. It could easily pose a threat to the rest of the realm.

  I waited days for Ravanna Presydia’s arrival. But the Cold Queen must have appeared in the dead of night, for I never once heard her carriage approach.

  In fact, it wasn’t until Matilda’s panicked entrance and orders to get ready that I realized finally, after three and a half weeks, I was to be seen.

  I let Matilda dress me with all the care and consideration she was capable of. And when I stood to see myself and the gold gown she’d chosen, I couldn’t believe what she had accomplished.

  I looked like a princess.

  The skirt fit like a bell over my hips, swishing at my feet and expanding so that no one could stand close to me. The velvet bodice cinched at my waist while the sleeves flared in an excess of fabric at my wrists.

  Matilda had fixed my hair away from my face, pulling my curls into a bun at my nape in the hopes that I would look more like my mother than ever. When I stared into the mirror, I couldn’t help but be in awe of her handiwork. I did, in fact, look just like my mother, the queen.

  Now to feel like one.

  I wished for Taelon. I wished that I could speak to him one last time. I wanted to hear him say that he believed me, that he knew I was who I said I was.

  I wished for Oliver, too. I needed my friend. I needed him to remind me that I was not weak, that I had been trained for moments like these.

  But I didn’t know if either would be allowed to attend the trial. In truth, I knew very little about Conandra, only what Hugo had warned before I left Soravale.

  Just as Matilda placed one last pin to keep my hair from lashing out like snakes, Crenshaw pushed through the door. My heart fluttered as Matilda moved to greet him.

  “We’ve come for the girl,” he announced gruffly.

  Matilda turned to beckon me, but I was already there. I lifted my chin and met the guard’s cool glare. “And what if I turn out to be who I say I am?” I dared him. “Then what? How will you be punished for treating your queen in this way?”

  His jaw ticked, but he did not say another word. Instead, he stepped back and waited for me to move into the hallway.

  “Imposter,” he spat as I walked by him.

  Guards surrounded me as soon as I was out of my room. I thought it was a bit excessive.

  My fingers itched for my blade, but I’d left it in my room, under my mattress, with Shiksa guarding it.

  We moved as one unit down the familiar corridors. I noticed the changes that had been made over the years, but nothing seemed to have aged while I’d been away.

  It was almost too easy to forget the dreariness of the village with so much opulence surrounding me.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  In minutes we stood before the throne room. I had expected Conandra to be held somewhere else. I didn’t think I would be back here until it was my throne room, until I was the one ruling this realm.

  The doors opened all too soon and I was announced as “the Alleged Tessana Allisand to make her case for the throne of Elysia and the Crown of Nine.”

  A hush fell over the room and a rustling of clothes rippled through the air as everyone shifted to look at me. I lifted my head, tilted my chin, and focused on not
tripping.

  The aisles loomed on either side like tentacles of a great sea creature. Every seat in the room was taken. Every space in the back was filled. The only clear space was the aisle that led me forward—toward the council that would decide my fate.

  Oliver’s rich brown eyes captured my attention almost immediately. He stood tucked in the corner near the servant’s entrance. I didn’t acknowledge him, but his half smile managed to give me enough confidence to continue moving forward. Even if no one else did, Oliver believed me. Oliver had faith in me.

  I didn’t allow myself the freedom to look around again and so I knew not whether my audience was dignitaries or common villagers. My eyes stayed fixed on the council at the front of the room.

  Ornate chairs had been brought in for each council member. I recognized Hugo at once, but as he did not move to acknowledge me, I decided it was best to do the same.

  Tyrn sat in the center and the monarchs spread out on either side of him. Hugo sat four down from him at the very edge of Tyrn’s left side—the place of least importance.

  Realizing that Hugo had been slighted, I scanned the rest of the monarchs, anxious to see who Tyrn had aligned with.

  It had been too long for me to recognize any of them from memory, so I identified them by their colors. I was surprised to see the king of Barstus sitting to my uncle’s immediate left, but more so to see Blackthorne to his direct right, the highest place of honor.

  Queen Ravanna Presydia of Blackthorne looked just like I remembered her. Sleek black hair pulled tight at her temples only to flow in pin-straight silk down her back. Her lips were painted a deep red that accentuated her delicate cheekbones and long neck while the dark kohl around her eyes brought out their vibrant green. She was as stunning as I remembered. And as terrifying.

  She was the only monarch not to wear both of her royal colors. Instead, her gown was as black as her hair. The tight bodice contrasted starkly with her pale skin and the skirt appeared to be made entirely of long black feathers. As did the cape she wore, clasped at her neck and covering only the tops of her shoulders, leaving her porcelain arms exposed.