by C B Samet
I met with Baird in private and divulged everything Mal had shared with me. He gave me several concerning nods and grunts before agreeing that the troubling news needed to be carefully shared with the Queen.
After an hour, we convened with the same group from yesterday in one of the meeting chambers.
Baird spoke first, “They have superior defenses, my Queen. We must prepare for an attack.”
Tarik protested, “We don’t know that they’ll attack. We can’t guess their intentions.”
“They will attack,” Captain DeFay stated. “Either because they want the scepter, or because we seized the Prince. They’ll choose whatever reason suits them. Porter made that clear without explicitly saying so.”
The Queen stood solemnly within a stiff, bronze-colored dress. She shook her head. “This level of calculated violence is baffling. Unfortunately, Bellos is not the only continent affected. Kovia is still in chaos after the plague. Their government is struggling to assert control. Even on Crithos, we’re deploying more and more soldiers to help local police.”
“I think the scepter may be damaged.”
All eyes fell on me.
“I’ll need to inspect it to be sure, but it may have been damaged when the volcano erupted over a decade ago. Damage to the scepter would explain why violence is growing and spreading.”
The rest of the group fell deathly silent, presumably grasping the magnitude of an ineffective sponge for evil.
“It must be fixed,” Tarik sputtered.
Bordo nodded in agreement. “We can set the brightest geologists and magicians to work on it at once.”
A measure of relief flickered through me to know the responsibility of fixing it wouldn’t rest solely on me. Yet, did I trust anyone else to do it correctly? I had Mal and Orrick—and, apparently, also the spirit of their Mother, whom I’d had yet to meet.
Baird crossed his arms. “Think of the small ripple of fear circulating this room, at this moment, at news of the scepter. If you set a team to the task in the castle, you’ll have widespread panic.”
“There’ll already be widespread panic at the presence of intruders seeking to steal the scepter,” Coco argued.
Tarik replied to Baird, “We can’t conceal something of this magnitude. When people find out the truth, there’ll be an uproar if we’re not endeavoring to find a solution.”
“Yes, yes,” Bordo said. “The continent must know the full weight of the Crown is behind a solution.”
Baird paced the room. “Let the monks research the scrolls.”
The Queen sipped her tea and then set down her cup with the sound of chinking porcelain. “What says the Avant Champion?”
The room turned to me.
“The damaged scepter is secondary, since the solution is not readily available. The threat at present are the Bellosians—who may attack because they seek the scepter, because they intend to reclaim their Prince, or to conquer Crithos.”
“That’s alarmist,” Tarik declared. “We may yet build bridges with Bellos.”
“I told the Queen of a vision I had a year and a half ago, in the Waterlands on Kovia. Bellos intends invasion and war. Maybe not imminently, but they’re coming.”
“I think peace is unlikely,” Coco added.
Tarik shot her a look of reprimand. “You’re Captain of the Guard. It’s your job security to think peace is unlikely.”
Coco put a hand on her hip. “And the Minister of Foreign Affairs has job security in always advocating for diplomacy.”
Bordo smiled with bulging, rosy cheeks. “Everyone’s job is secured. We need a solution that employs diplomacy but prepares for war.”
“Agreed,” said the Queen.
I braced for her to voice her decree—the decision that would alter Crithos’ future and set us on a path to war.
“I will embark on a voyage to try to establish peace with Bellos, and to return the prince. His immediate return may make the difference between peace and war. Meanwhile, our army will prepare for possible conflict, and the monks will search for a solution to fix the scepter.”
We all bowed our acquiescence.
All paths lead to war.
6
MALAKAI
After the group meeting, the Queen led Abigail away from everyone else—out of the room and down several flights of stairs. I accompanied them to the vault so that I, too, could inspect my scepter. I kept my body invisible to Abigail so as not to distract her from conversation with the Queen.
Abigail’s boots echoed on the stone floor as she walked beside Queen Rebekah. “You know I’ll support whatever you decide, and ride with you to the volcanic depths of the serpent island if you ask, but a trip to Bellos is suicide. I’ve told you they want war. There’ll be no negotiations.”
The Queen spoke calmly. “If the vision you witnessed is inevitable, then war is coming whether I go to Victoria or not.”
“Yes. So why go?”
“If I cannot stop war, I’ll at least make a stand before King Artemis Stout. I’ll not be accused of hiding in Marrington when forces invade.” She stopped outside the vault, pulled out a key, and unlocked the large doors. With the grinding of gears, the stone double doors swung open.
Abigail crossed her arms and leveled her gaze at the Queen. “Are you intent on becoming a martyr?”
She bristled at the accusation.
Abigail continued, “If you’re held captive or killed, what do you think that will do to the morale of the country? What if the King holds you captive and secures our surrender, contingent upon your safety?”
Queen Rebekah linked her fingers. “I have been Queen of this country for five decades. Don’t presume I haven’t considered all of the scenarios you suggest.”
Abigail took a step nearer to her and lowered her voice. “Then don’t go. Send Minister Tarik. Send a rook instead of a queen. Play this like a game of chess.”
The Queen entered the vault and walked in front of the scepter. “Tarik has been to Bellos since the plague, and he returned enamored—and with no inkling of the King’s malicious intent. It seems Tarik has his own interests at the forefront of his mind and not the kingdom’s interests.”
Abigail couldn’t argue with her point.
The Queen added, “I must do what I can to show our willingness to engage in peace talks.”
King Artemis wasn’t interested in talking.
Abigail seemed to struggle to think of what to tell the Queen to change her mind. She resumed pacing.
Queen Rebekah broke the silence, “Natalie will make a fine Queen one day.”
Abigail froze and stared at her. “How did you know?”
Abigail and I knew from Abigail’s vision in the Waterlands on Kovia that Natalie would become Queen, but she’d only shared that knowledge with Baird.
The Queen gave a faint smile. “You’re not the only person with magical talents.”
I wondered if the Queen’s Leadership Stone somehow informed her of her successor.
“How long have you known?” Abigail asked.
“Several years.”
Abigail rubbed her temple. “Natalie wants to remain at the castle during the crisis.”
“She might learn valuable lessons for her future in doing so.”
“She might become a casualty of a hostile takeover.” Abigail’s tone held bitterness—more at the situation than at the Queen.
“It will not be hostile. If peace talks fail, we’ll need to surrender. The death toll will be too high if we resist.”
“Surrender?” Abigail sounded incredulous. “Crithos can’t surrender! We have allies in Kovia, we have allies with the giants, and you have me.”
The Queen walked to one of the windows and stared at the sky. “You think I haven’t explored those options? Kovia is still recovering from the Omega plague—the death toll devastated their economy. They have no resources to spare. The Hunju giants feel that mobilizing against Bellos will make them a future target.”
&
nbsp; “They’d remain idle while we fall? We helped them in their civil war!”
“We unofficially helped them. Nothing public. They’re concerned with self-preservation.”
“Then they’re operating under the false assumption that they won’t become part of the war when King Artemis’ forces arrive,” Abigail said.
“Indeed, they are.”
Abigail released a long, slow breath. “Can I dissuade you from going to Bellos?”
“No.”
Abigail lowered her head. “Then into the lion’s den we go.”
“Thank you, Abigail.” The Queen picked up the scepter from its red velvet pillow and handed it to Abigail.
“Mal,” she gasped.
I appeared beside her. “I rather like you summoning me with so much vigor.”
Abigail hadn’t touched the scepter since the volcano eruption.
“I don’t remember it feeling so alive the last time I touched it,” she said.
“Well, you had been in the sauna of a cavern, trying to make haste before you melted,” I said.
“My hands are tingling, like I’m feeling the magic pulsating. I’ve never appreciated the power emanating from it.”
“I’ve never felt anything from it,” the Queen stated.
I leaned closer and extended a finger. “There! It’s cracked.”
I ran a finger over the imperfection in the otherwise smooth amber stone. My hand contacted Abigail’s finger as I touched the Che stone. An effervescent and tingling warmth spread through my body. Abigail’s eyes widened before I retreated a step and withdrew my hand.
Abigail swallowed and replaced the scepter. “Damaged,” she said dryly.
“Then you already know your next task after our visit to Bellos,” the Queen said.
Abigail glanced at me. I wondered if my face looked as flushed as hers.
“I guess I do,” she agreed.
Three days of preparation passed. Abigail stayed busy, zipping back and forth between her estate to spend time with the children, the castle to discuss the details of their trip to Bellos, and to Waterton; where workers prepared a single, small ship for the Queen and her advisors.
I could offer little help and mostly distraction during this time, so I gave Abigail her space. When she had time to rest, I didn’t invade the tranquility of her sleep.
I mostly watched her children play, pestered Orrick, and watched the boat preparations on the coastal city of Waterton.
When I sensed Abigail traveling far away from her home, I stretched my mind to perceive where she’d gone. She wasn’t at the castle. I flickered to her side but remained invisible to her. She stood outside a modest home in a neighborhood of houses.
“Where are we?” Snake Eyes asked.
“Goran Foal’s home on Kovia. He’s a friend of Abigail’s.”
Goran answered the door after Abigail knocked. His large figure and broad shoulders occupied most of the space. “Abigail! What a pleasant surprise.” He saw her smile falter. “Something’s wrong?”
“I won’t be able to make the children’s playdate we’d planned.”
“Come in. Come in. We can reschedule, but tell me what’s going on.”
Abigail entered his home. When his hand rested on the small of her back as he led her to the kitchen, a ripple of jealousy coursed through me. Anger followed jealousy. He was a married man. He…
Images of the past flickered through my mind. Lorraine, Goran’s wife, had died a few months after Joshua had died. I’d been gone, so I hadn’t learned of the tragedy.
“Whoa! Look at all of these medals.” Snake Eyes hovered near the mantle, admiring Goran’s bronze, silver, and gold medals of honor.
“He served as border patrol before he became ambassador to Kovia. He’s a decorated soldier,” I told the brownie.
Over a pot of tea, Abigail began explaining the details of Prince Porter’s intrusion, and the plans to travel to Bellos.
“What’s this?” Snake Eyes pointed to a black urn with gold embroidery.
“Goran’s late wife. Traditionally, Kovians cremate their dead and keep the ashes.”
I saw Lorraine passing from a type of blood-borne cancer. Abigail didn’t learn until after the funeral that Loraine had died, but she’d mourned with Goran the week following. Since then, they’d arranged monthly play dates with the children.
I walked back into the kitchen where Abigail and Goran talked. He held her hands in his, listening intently and reassuring her. I shook off the sadness bearing down on my like a winter frost. I had no claim on Abigail, and Goran would make a strong and kind husband.
I decided to stop gawking at their moment together and leave them alone. I dissolved from his home and moved onto the deck of the ship docked at Marrington. It sat on a rippling blue ocean under a midday sun. I looked over the railing at the sea beyond.
“This is very exciting.” Snake Eyes floated beside me.
“Is it?”
“We’re going on a sea voyage!”
“Not exactly, my small friend.”
“Oh?”
“Abigail and her friend Baird will be able to transport the entire ship and crew to the coast of Bellos. There’ll be very little actual sailing.” I ran a hand through the captain’s wheel, wondering what it would feel like to ride a vessel as it cut through glassy water or choppy waves. Sprays of salty ocean water would coat the deck as the breeze ran through my hair. Foolish longings. When this war ended and the scepter was repaired, I’d go back to existing only in Abigail’s dreams—still unable to touch her.
“So, why take a boat?”
“Hmm?”
“If the Queen and Abigail don’t need to actually sail there, why take a boat?” Snake Eyes ran a hand through the shiny brass bell hanging above the wheel, unable to grasp the metal.
“It’s best if magic users don’t show all of their cards.”
“Like the poker game you and Orrick played?”
“Exactly.”
The brownie narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you going to cheat? Like you did at cards?”
“Orrick and I had to cheat to get Mothers’ cylinder back. And, yes—when it comes to protecting Abigail and fighting a war, I will use magic to cheat.”
I watched dockworkers loading crates of supplies onto the ship and down into the hull.
Snake Eyes adjusted his green snake-head hat. “When Abbey wins the war, what happens to King Artemis?”
I smiled, admiring his optimism. “Jail, exile, death. Any one of those.”
“So, if Bellok—Abigail’s step-father—is King Artemis Stout’s son, could he take the throne?”
The little brownie had been paying attention to relationships.
“I don’t think he wants it.”
“What about Abbey as Bellok’s heir?”
“Abigail as Queen of Bellos?” I laughed. Oh, how she would balk at that. “She could have assumed the Crithian throne if she were so ambitious. I doubt she’d want the responsibility of ruling over a continent she knows little about.”
“You could help her.”
“I think Trad would sooner take the throne in Victoria than Abigail.”
“Oh, yes.” Snake Eyes brightened. “He’s royal blood.”
“It takes more than royal blood to lead. It takes royal disposition.” The words tumbled from my lips as I recalled my father speaking them once upon lifetimes ago. He’d been talking to Orrick about putting the needs of one’s people before one’s own self.
“Does Trad have a royal disposition?” Snake Eyes asked.
I considered how the young man had studied healing with Joshua and selflessly helped many villagers. “Perhaps he does. But let us first win the war, and then we’ll worry about putting the pieces back together.”
7
ABIGAIL
“It’s just another quest. Why are you half-pacing, half-packing, and half-cleaning in a frenzy?” Raven sat in the windowsill, watching me with a bored expression. The mornin
g sun rose behind her and caused her raven feathered headpeice to glean with a purple sheen.
“I’m not frenzied,” I countered. “I needed to pack, which includes identifying which hat of my many personalities I’m wearing to this intercontinental party—the Avant Champion, the Queen’s servant, Professor Cross, or some other invention.”
“Red Goddess hat.”
“Very funny.” The Black Forest brownies had given me the title of Red Goddess after I’d freed Orrick from the oak tree he’d been captive in. Over the years, I’d managed to convince most of them I was no deity.
I continued with my mental to-do list. “I need to speak with Coco one-on-one about the harrowing unfolding of events, and how everything is moving too fast—and I need to get all of the children settled at their desired locations.”
“You’ll get it all done.”
“Knock, knock,” Mal said.
“Since when do you knock, Mal?” I tidied up clothes in my room.
Mal entered—tall, dashing, and infuriatingly smug.
Raven followed my gaze, but she couldn’t see Mal. “Oh, it’s your evil demon friend. I thought you’d said he left?”
I blinked at her. “Mal decided to grace me with his presence once again.”
Raven scoffed. “He waits for crisis to appear? Where’s Prince Not-So-Charming been all this time?”
Mal threw his hands in the air. “I’m here to help.”
Rather than wait for an answer, Raven hopped onto the floor. “I’ll let you two do… whatever it is you do.”
As she walked out, Mal moved to one side, out of her way, and entered.
“Orrick and I would like you to meet someone.”
“Can it wait? I’m swamped.”
“Yes, metaphorical hats and all.”
I slanted my eyes at him. “You were listening even before you knocked?”
“Naturally—and, no, this can’t wait. I’ve come to escort you to Orrick’s cottage.”
Orrick didn’t make requests lightly, so his summons was one I’d acquiesce to. I followed Mal to Orrick’s cottage.