by Jenna Glass
“Alysoon’s letter says he will only sleep for a minute or two,” she said as the old man began to snore. “She says she has more robust versions that require gemstones to hold all the necessary elements.”
Zarsha shook his head in wonder. “How is this possible?” he asked, but not as if he expected an answer. “I’m not a skilled practitioner myself, but I’ve studied magic, and I’ve never heard tell of anything even remotely like these spells.”
“You’ve studied men’s magic. There is no official study of women’s magic, nor has there ever before been a concerted effort to combine the two.” Which seemed to Ellin like a foolish oversight, fueled by prejudices that made little sense. “There are also elements at Women’s Well that have never been seen before. Dismissing its importance because it doesn’t produce a great number of masculine or neuter elements is clearly a mistake.”
Semsulin came instantly, fully awake when the spell wore off. He bristled with offended dignity when Zarsha and Ellin explained what had happened, but she could see he was suitably impressed—if somewhat disturbed—by the demonstration.
“Do you now both agree that it would be dangerous to allow Aaltah to control this Well?”
Zarsha and Semsulin shared a look with many hidden meanings.
“The council will argue that we are not at war with Aaltah, and that we therefore need not treat them as an enemy,” Semsulin said.
She huffed in frustration, for she was sure that was indeed what Tamzin would argue—and his cronies would immediately fall into step with him. “And I would argue that throughout history, a kingdom has never held control of two Wells without becoming a danger to the rest of the world. Can we really expect that Aaltah will gain control of Women’s Well and not decide it is time to ‘take back’ the Midlands?”
“I said the council will make that argument, not that I would,” Semsulin reminded her.
“What you really mean is that Tamzin will make the argument, and the council will be inclined to side with him over me.”
“It amounts to the same thing.”
Ellin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, for she had, of course, come to the same conclusion. No matter what was best for the kingdom, Tamzin would always look out for what he perceived to be his own interests first. Right now, his interest was in securing the throne, which he could best do by continuing to weaken her authority and bend the council to his own will.
“That is why we must remove him from the council once and for all,” she said. “And I believe I have a plan to bring about that removal.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Alys knew she looked distinctly unregal as she leaned against the fence and watched the ragtag army of Women’s Well sparring and drilling under the lord commander’s watchful eyes. Her heart lurched when she saw Corlin lose his footing and land in the dirt, and she stifled a protest when his instructor increased the indignity by whacking him on the rump with the flat of his sword. She saw Corlin’s glance dart in her direction as he climbed back to his feet.
“Let the boy have some pride,” Tynthanal’s voice said from behind her, and she jumped, for she had not heard him approaching. “Hitting the dirt is embarrassing enough without having your mother—and sovereign princess—watching.”
“I don’t like him drilling with the men,” she said, not for the first time. “No matter what happens, he is not fighting.”
“That is no reason for him not to learn to defend himself. I’ve half a mind to set up some training for our women, as well.”
She turned toward him, forcing herself to look away as Corlin raised his training sword once more. She thought perhaps Tynthanal was teasing, but the expression on his face dispelled that notion. “You’re serious.”
He nodded. “We can discuss it in council, but I see no reason why those women who’d want it shouldn’t receive some training. They won’t turn into seasoned warriors overnight, but at least they wouldn’t be completely helpless.”
For the first time, Alys noticed the curled parchment he held in his hand. She jerked her chin at it. “You’ve finally heard from your informant?”
Ever since Women’s Well had declared its independence, there had been an ominous silence from Tynthanal’s informant in the palace. At a time when they most desperately needed information, there was suddenly none forthcoming.
Tynthanal shook his head. “Still no word. But I have other friends in the army—men I trained with and fought with—who still feel some loyalty to me.” He held up the parchment. “I’ve been informed that the army is on the march, and that Delnamal is leading them.
“He’s taking no chances this time,” Tynthanal continued grimly. “He’s mustering troops as he goes, and my friend estimates there will be nearly ten thousand men by the time they reach us.”
Alys blanched. She looked back over her shoulder at the drilling soldiers. An army of ten thousand could march over them without breaking stride, no matter how good their magical defenses. Especially now that those defenses would no longer be a total surprise.
“We need Rhozinolm to declare its allegiance,” Tynthanal said. “That is our only hope.”
Alys chewed her lip and nodded. “I will contact Ellinsoltah again tonight. She will have received my gift by now.”
“It may not be enough,” Tynthanal warned. “Even if she is suitably impressed, she will have to win over her council, and that might take time. The closer the army is by the time Delnamal hears we have an ally, the less likely he will be willing to turn back. Can you imagine what a blow it would be to his ego to choreograph this preemptive victory march and then have to turn around with his tail tucked between his legs?”
She shook her head helplessly. “Then what else can we do?”
The muscles in his jaw worked. “There is nothing.”
* * *
—
Ellin took a deep, shaky breath, sure her face was ghastly pale. Zarsha gave her an encouraging smile, while Lord Kailindar was too busy staring at the door to the council room with an unnerving glitter in his eyes to notice her hesitation. Semsulin frowned fiercely.
“Are you sure about this?” he whispered, and she saw an unmistakable flash of fear in his eyes. That her ordinarily unflappable chancellor was frightened both reinforced her own fears and made it easier for her to tuck them into a hidden corner of her soul.
She couldn’t manage a smile, but her legs felt steadier as her tripping pulse slowed. “I’m sure,” she said, despite the lingering quiver of nerves in her belly. “We cannot go on as we have.” And although Zarsha’s plan to quietly eliminate Tamzin would be personally easier to face, it would not erase the damage he’d already done to her royal council. She had to not only eliminate Tamzin but to win support from some of the council members he’d subverted, and a back-alley assassination would not accomplish that.
“You are gambling with all our lives,” Semsulin said.
“We’ve all already agreed to the gamble,” Lord Kailindar growled. “Let’s not mince about like frightened little girls.”
Semsulin gave Ellin a pointed look, which she had no trouble understanding. Lord Kailindar was playing the role of ally merely because of his hatred for his nephew, not because of any loyalty to his queen. If this meeting went as planned, she might well be replacing one enemy with another—it had become patently obvious in speaking with Kailindar that he still had not forgiven her for stripping his title—but at least Kailindar did not have Tamzin’s popularity. He would have a much harder time gathering support than Tamzin did.
Ellin nodded at Zarsha, who bowed his head and opened the door to the council chamber. Holding her own head high while the weight of the crown tried to push it back down, she strode into the room, silencing the chatter and replacing it with the scraping sound of chairs being pushed back. She saw that the platter of seed cakes she’d ordered sent to the
council chamber had been appropriately decimated while they awaited her. Her ribs seemed to tighten around her lungs, and she prayed she would never be forced to reveal just why she had selected that particular treat—one of Tamzin’s favorites—to serve at this meeting.
Semsulin followed on her heels, as usual, but she could sense the astonishment of the rest of the council when they saw Zarsha and Kailindar. Tamzin especially went stiff, his eyes blazing.
“Please be seated,” she said as Semsulin pulled back her chair. She was not entirely surprised when Tamzin remained on his feet while everyone else sat.
“Your Majesty,” he grated through clenched teeth, “I must ask that your…guests be excused before we bring this meeting to order.”
“You are relatively new to the royal council, Lord Tamzin,” Semsulin answered for her, “so you may be forgiven for your unfamiliarity with protocol. It is within the right of any member of this council to bring in guests who might have a vested interest in the proceedings.”
Ellin had to fight the urge to smile at how gracefully Semsulin had cut Tamzin’s legs out from under him—while both offering an excuse for Tamzin’s unacceptable outburst and condescending to him at the same time. Semsulin might not be fully convinced that Ellin was doing the right thing, but one never would have guessed his doubts looking at him right now.
The look on Tamzin’s face was so murderous that for a moment Ellin thought he might press the issue. Kailindar’s smug, delighted grin as he dropped into a chair by the wall behind Semsulin did not help matters. She glanced around the table, taking in the expressions of the rest of her council. Most looked vaguely uncomfortable with the unsubtle undercurrents, but the lord high treasurer, who was proving to be one of Tamzin’s most ardent supporters, was scowling deeply.
Eventually, Tamzin resumed his seat, though he moved slowly enough to be sure that no one missed the disrespect. The whole point of today’s exercise was to provoke Tamzin into showing his true colors, and it seemed Ellin would not have to work terribly hard to succeed.
“My ascension to the throne has left the Kingdom of Rhozinolm with an unresolved issue of which we are all aware,” Ellin said without preamble. “Namely, the trade agreements with Nandel that are set to expire and that Prince Waldmir has seemed reluctant to renew. When I was free to marry Zarsha, it seemed we had secured Waldmir’s cooperation, and we have as yet failed to find another way of encouraging his support.”
She could almost see some of the councilors rapidly losing interest, thinking the council meeting was sure to devolve into yet another long, pointless discussion of options that had long been picked clean and discarded. Nandel’s territory was small, and its population even smaller. However, thanks to the mountainous nature of that territory, the land was riddled with mines, producing metals and gems that were sought after the world over. At least seventy percent of the iron available anywhere in Seven Wells originated in Nandel, and for some gems that percentage neared a hundred. Rhozinolm needed those trade agreements, and under the current circumstances, Nandel had no reason not to change the terms and make their prices extortionate.
“I submit to this council that a marriage between myself and Zarsha is still the most certain way to secure those trade agreements.”
Her words provoked a moment of shocked silence. Then everyone began speaking at once. She sat and listened, taking in the mood of the room. Several of her advisers seemed to think she meant to make Zarsha king and voiced vociferous objections. Tamzin was the loudest of all of them; his chair had scraped back as he leapt to his feet, and he was now glaring at her in a way that was completely inappropriate. The lord high treasurer, seated beside him, put a hand on Tamzin’s arm, looking up at him and saying something she couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it convinced Tamzin to sit down once more, though he was practically shaking with anger—and perhaps just a touch of eager anticipation.
The clamor began to die down as others decided to sit back and enjoy the show. When the noise level was reduced to a low murmur, Tamzin leaned a forearm on the table and fixed her with a penetrating stare.
“Do you mean to abdicate the throne?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought, though he followed up the question with a suspicious look in Kailindar’s direction. No matter what his own ambitions—or how much support he had among the members of the royal council—Kailindar’s claim to the throne would be stronger than his own if Ellin were to abdicate.
Ellin ignored his question and asked one of her own. “Does anyone disagree with my assessment?”
Everyone looked back and forth, but no one immediately answered. Semsulin stepped into the ensuing silence. “I cannot see that we have any other inducements to offer Prince Waldmir. Though I would be delighted if someone were to propose a solution we have not yet considered.”
The tension in the room was so thick it was almost visible as minds whirred and calculated. Those trade agreements had weighed on everyone’s mind ever since Ellin had attended her first council meeting—and judging by her original would-be engagement to Zarsha against her strenuous objections, had no doubt done so long before.
Ellin gave them all time to think, time to recognize just how vital those trade agreements were, and just how important her hand in marriage might be in securing them. She did not have to be an expert statesman to see that her words had had exactly the desired effect. On everyone but Tamzin, who was still staring at her with naked suspicion in his eyes.
“Do you mean to abdicate the throne?” he asked again. His eyes rose briefly to the heavy ornamental crown on her head. One that she generally wore only for state occasions, as it was hardly a comfortable accessory.
He already knew the answer to his own question, which was why he was not already sitting there contemplating how he could convince the council to name him as the next king over Kailindar.
“I am the lawful Queen of Rhozinolm,” she said. “If I had a son to whom I could pass the crown, perhaps I would consider abdicating for the good of the kingdom. However, as I have no clear, unchallenged heir, abdication is not an option.”
“You are not giving the crown of Rhozinolm to some filthy barbarian warlord,” Tamzin snarled, pounding the table and causing everyone in the room to jump. Some looked nervously at the “filthy barbarian warlord” who was seated quietly next to Kailindar.
Zarsha showed no sign of being offended, despite the outrageous insult. “I assure you, I have no designs on the throne of Rhozinolm,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.
Semsulin did not take the insult with such aplomb. “Lord Tamzin, as the senior member of this council, I must ask you to sit down and refrain from speaking out of turn, or you will be removed from these proceedings.”
More nervous murmurings as everyone in the room waited to see whether Tamzin would accept the rebuke. Ellin prayed he would sit down. Disrespect of Zarsha and Semsulin might result in a toothless censure from the rest of the council, but she needed to push him into flagrantly disrespecting her, which was a far more serious offense.
Stiffly, Tamzin resumed his seat, his face still red with anger.
“I have no intention of giving my crown to anyone,” she said, turning her gaze to the Marshal of Rhozinolm, who was the highest-ranking officer of the law. “I understand that while there is legal precedent for a queen ceding her crown to her husband, the law doesn’t specifically stipulate that she must do so. Am I correct?”
All eyes turned to the marshal, one of the more taciturn members of the royal council, who immediately looked uncomfortable with all the attention. “There has only once before been a sovereign queen in Rhozinolm,” he said, “so there is very little legal language to cover such a situation.”
“Is there a law that says my husband must be named king, or isn’t there?” Out of the corner of her eye, Ellin could see the fire blazing in Tamzin’s eyes as he saw the throne reced
ing from his grasp.
“You are a woman!” Tamzin spat before the marshal had a chance to respond. “You are not fit to sit on the throne in anything but a temporary capacity.”
“And yet right now I do sit on the throne, and I asked the marshal a question: am I legally required to cede the throne to my husband?”
The marshal squirmed even more, but everyone already knew the answer, so he finally admitted that no, there was no such law.
“Then I propose I marry Zarsha—after my mourning is complete, of course—and thereby secure renewed trade agreements with Nandel in the only way any of us can imagine it happening. I will remain as queen, and Zarsha will become the prince consort, and we shall proceed from there.”
Tamzin was not the only person at the council table who did not like her proposal, and she had not missed the few subtle nods of agreement that had met his outburst about a woman’s fitness to rule. But she had baited the hook generously, making it obvious that if they rejected her proposal, those trade agreements would never be renewed. Some of them might not mind if Tamzin led a revolt and seized the crown for himself, but she had just shown them a major shortcoming in such a coup. They needed her, and even those who harbored the most obvious loyalty to Tamzin—the lord high treasurer and the lord commander—looked doubtful.
Tamzin stood once more, and this time when he spoke, his voice was deadly calm. “The council obviously made a terrible mistake in putting you on the throne,” he said, his eyes staring daggers as his lips curled into a sneer. “Rhozinolm’s queen need not spread her legs for Nandel to gain access to the supplies we need.”
Even having come into this meeting fully prepared to provoke Tamzin, she could not help but be chilled by the way he was looking at her.
“You go too far, Lord Tamzin,” Semsulin warned, also rising to his feet. “You tread dangerously close to treason.”