5 THE QUEEN
“Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?”
I pulled the hood of my cloak lower over my head as the sea breeze delved beneath my clothes. Just footspans away, a dockhand argued with a fisherman, while several whores called to a group of soldiers from the window of a brothel. Pelysian had managed to get us back to Lesdryn far more quickly than the route I’d originally taken. But most of our trip had been consumed by him arguing against my returning to the castle.
Pelysian frowned. “You know I will not be able to help if something goes wrong.”
I nodded. The twin to the mirror in my bedroom—while warded to only accept the blood of either of our lines—was too far for Pelysian to get to. The hovel his mother lived in was over a day’s ride away, so he wouldn’t be able to get to her mirror and into my chambers that way.
Any attempt to sneak him into the castle would simply draw too much attention.
“I will be in the castle for hours at most,” I said. “By now, the guards would have told Sabium of the fire at the market. You said you have found a merchant who has agreed to our alternative series of events.”
And still, my heart thundered at the thought of all that could go wrong. When I’d boarded that ship with Nelia, I had never imagined I would return to Sabium’s castle.
He sighed. “Yes. In return for a better life. But I don’t need to tell you this is a huge risk. If you would wait a few days, I could speak with my mother and ask what she sees.”
I shook my head. The risk was great, yes. But the grimoire… The grimoire would change everything.
“A few days will be too long. Questions would be asked about my injuries and why the castle wasn’t notified. My understanding is that removing this so-called grimoire from Sabium’s possession could be the blow needed to end this war. Unless you misspoke?”
“No.” Silence stretched between us, and his frown deepened. Did he suspect I wanted the grimoire for myself? If so, he would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen.
I let my gaze drop to the ground. “It’s not just a case of revenge. It’s…it’s for Nelia. She gave her life for me. For us. She would want the bloodshed to end. If we’d known such a grimoire existed, both of us would have worked to find it long before now.”
I kept my voice free of blame. But when I lifted my eyes, I caught the guilt and grief in Pelysian’s eyes.
Yes. Feel that guilt. Perhaps if we had known just how valuable Sabium’s little book was, neither of us would have gone to that mine. We would have focusedour attention on finding that book, and Nelia would still be alive.
I let Pelysian drown in his guilt for a long moment, enjoying the way his eyes darkened.
“These are called consequences, Your Majesty.”That was what he’d said when Nelia died.
Now, he could suffer the consequences of keeping important information from me. Hopefully, he would learn from such a difficult lesson.
According to our spies, Sabium would have guests for dinner. Important guests. Our spies hadn’t been able to tell us exactly who those guests were, but the servants were busy arranging for a formal dinner. Which would buy me time.
Even Sabium wouldn’t slice my throat between courses. Not in public.
Things were different now. No longer did I need to play nice with Sabium to stay alive. He’d taken my dignity, my freedom, my son. And now, I would take that grimoire from him and wield its dark power myself.
If everything went according to plan, I wouldn’t need help to escape the castle. Sabium would be the one screaming as he bled his life away.
“In that case, may the gods be with you.” Pelysian nodded at me. His movements were stiff. Since the moment Nelia had died, he’d spoken only when necessary, barely meeting my gaze—unless he was arguing about my choice to return to the castle.
As if her death were my fault, when I’d told her to leave.
I didn’t bother with goodbyes, simply turned and stalked toward the closest guard. From there, everything went as planned.
The guard was ecstatic to be the one who found Sabium’s missing queen. Of course, my husband didn’t bother visiting my rooms himself when I returned to the castle, but that was to be expected. And it was most definitely preferred.
I spent several long minutes walking those rooms. The rooms I’d been so sure I wouldn’t see again.
Pelysian had described the grimoire in detail. And I remembered seeing it that day Sabium took the mirror. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide it in his private library or in the hidden chamber beneath his rooms—the one he likely thought remained a secret. He wouldn’t keep it in his rooms either.
The hybrid heir had used Madinia to destroy the castle sanctuary, and it was currently being rebuilt. So it wouldn’t be hidden there.
No, there were three places it was likely to be. In the royal treasury, within the royal crypt, or on Sabium’s person.
If it was the last option…
No. He would be foolish to keep it with him throughout the day when anyone could see it and become curious. If he really did refuse to allow it out of his sight…
I would have to accept the inevitable. But I had to try. I could almost feel the immense power and knowledge of the grimoire calling to me.
After a long bath, I allowed one of the maids to help me dress, noting the cool, silky feel of the silk, the plush sensation of velvet. Just one day in the clothes of the poor and I suddenly had a new appreciation for my own clothes. I waved her away, stomach churning as I considered my first move.
The crypt would be the easiest to visit. So I started there.
Unlike the graveyard Sabium had continually threatened me with, the royal crypt was well visited by those who mourned the kings who’d come before him. Not for the first time, I wondered which unlucky stand-in had been killed and disguised as each of Sabium’s ancestors over the centuries.
Tucked away in a secluded copse on the outskirts of the royal gardens, the crypt was a place of reverence. The entrance was marked by an ivy-covered archway, chiseled from stone older than the castle itself. Weathered by time, the arch bore intricate carvings of the royal lineage. Did Sabium find such things amusing? Knowing him as well as I did, I found it likely that he would smile each time he visited this place, enjoying his lies.
The air was cooler inside the crypt, its vaulted ceilings a tapestry of stone. Beneath that ceiling, stone-covered slabs lay in a row, adorned with effigies of kings sculpted with such precision that it felt as if they might sit up and draw breath at any moment. Light orbs flickered over the gold and gems inlaid in the stone.
I stepped closer to the “resting places,” my gaze lingering on Regner, Crotopos, Aybrias, Hiarnus, and finally, the place reserved for Sabium.
My pulse raced as I swept my hands over stone, searching for any kind of hidden cache, a lock to be opened, or a ward hiding the grimoire.
Nothing.
I continued to search, until I was covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust from crawling across the stone floor, unwilling to risk missing even the tiniest clue. Frustration inched along my spine. Perhaps searching the crypt first was a mistake. My spies would have reported back to me if Sabium had been seen visiting it often.
Dusting myself off as best I could, I exited the crypt. It had been early enough when I’d arrived that few people were in the gardens. Now, I was continually greeted, curious gazes meeting my own as courtiers asked about my health, hoping for the smallest shred of gossip.
I repeated my story again and again, hoping I’d removed most of the dust and cobwebs from my gown. My story remained consistent, never straying from the same details. By the time I swept past the fourth group to greet me, I was grinding my teeth.
The grimoire had to be in the treasury. If it wasn’t…
No. It made sense for Sabium to keep it there. After all, it had only been recently that I’d learned of its existence. I would have noticed him carrying a book with him everywhere throughout the blisteringly long years of this false marriage.
Unlike the crypt, the treasury was guarded. The guards lounged against the stone walls, straightening when I approached.
“Your Majesty.”
I nodded at them, and the guard to the right took a key, unlocking the heavy gold door. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Can I help you find something, Your Majesty?”
“No.” I forced a smile. “I merely wish to select a suitable ruby to replace one that became loose from my bracelet.”
It was a weak excuse, but he nodded, his gaze lingering on the heavy gold necklace I wore. “Of course.”
Sweeping into the vast room, I waited until the door clicked shut behind me. Textures and colors engulfed me, pressing on my senses. The treasury had no windows, and the air was heavy, musty, tinged with the faint scent of old gold and ancient scrolls, intermingling with the subtle fragrance of cedar wood lining the walls.
I ignored the chests overflowing with jewels, the ancient armor from battles long won and lost, and the gold bars stacked taller than my body and sprawling across a space larger than Sabium’s ballroom.
Instead, I moved straight for the shelves of ancient books and scrolls.
These were the books that wouldn’t be found in any library. The books that contained histories of this world that scholars would kill one another to get their hands on.
I searched every bookcase, peering behind stacks of scrolls and running my hands along the wood of each shelf, searching for any concealed hiding places.
My chest grew tight, my jaw ached from the clenching of my teeth, and I began my third search of the books.
The door opened, and I whirled.
“Tymedes.”
He gave me a slow smile. “And what are you doing down here, Your Majesty?”
Icy fingers slid around my throat. We wanted each other dead. That had never been in question. And from the malice in his eyes, he was hoping he could make my death happen.
I forced myself to sniff dismissively. “Why should I not visit the treasury? I am, after all, queen.”
His smile widened. “His Majesty will be looking for you,” he said, and a trickle of sweat slid down my spine. “There will be guests for dinner.”
“Fine.” I was finished here anyway. With a last glance at the treasury, I strode down the hall, ignoring Tymedes’s steps behind me.
Perhaps Nelia would know something about this dinner.
I froze.
“Something wrong, Your Majesty?” Tymedes’s tone was even more of a taunt than usual.
Ignoring him, I continued walking. Nelia would know nothing. Her face flashed through my memory, eyes blank, staring accusingly at me. Gritting my teeth, I thrust the image away. I’d told her to flee.
I found Lisveth waiting outside my rooms, and her mouth dropped open as her gaze clung to my face like a child clinging to its mother’s skirts. “Your Majesty! We were so worried.”
There was something strangely comforting about her face—still seemingly incapable of hiding her thoughts. I waved her into my rooms, and she rang the bell that would call the others.
I allowed it. This might, after all, be the last time I saw them.
If I told them to run, they would question me. And if they knew I was leaving, Sabium’s truth-seekers would learn such information the moment I left. No, their ignorance would keep them safe.
Safer than Nelia.
And still…
“I was injured at the market. My guards left me to put out the fire. Thankfully, one of the merchants helped, but I was unconscious until he could find a good healer.”
I rattled off the story, nodding at a maid, who turned to find me a clean gown. When she returned with two options, I gestured to the one in her left hand. A deep, unrelenting red.
My ladies returned as the maid was lacing the back of the gown.
Lisveth happily repeated my story, and I ignored the crease of Pelopia’s brow, the questions in Caraceli’s eyes.
“I believe the king has missed you, Your Majesty,” Alcandre said as the maid finished my hair. “Each night, he spends several hours reading and writing in his diary. I’m sure he scrawls his love for you.”
My eyes met hers.
Something had made Alcandre emboldened. While Lisveth had allowed the terror of this place to drain the life from her face and the fat from her body, Alcandre seemed to have used it to harden herself. She was brasher. Fiercer. For the first time, I wondered what she might have been like as a true ally.
Everyone in this room knew Sabium held no love for me. I surveyed her, standing in a new gown, a jeweled bracelet dangling from her wrist. A new bracelet.
I almost smiled. Alcandre was fucking my husband. And she was taunting me with it.
But she’d unwittingly helped me.
I allowed a hint of color to rise to my cheeks, even as I glanced away dismissively and then back at her, as if I couldn’t help myself.
“He writes about me?” I asked tentatively.
“I would assume so, Your Majesty. It really is adorable. The only place he’s without it is his bath!”
Lisveth sighed. “That is so romantic.”
No one else spoke. Pelopia stared at Alcandre as if she had never seen her before. Everyone except idiotic Lisveth knew what Alcandre was doing by demonstrating such an intimate knowledge of Sabium’s nighttime habits.
I gave her a nod, allowing her to see her point had been made. Victory and fury warred in her eyes.
Alcandre’s new attitude proved I hadn’t been paying enough attention to my ladies. She had spotted an opportunity to claw at some power and had taken it—I couldn’t blame her for that. In fact, some part of me was proud.
But while she thought she was humiliating me by climbing into Sabium’s bed, the reality was quite different.
I would need to wait until Sabium was bathing. That would be my only opportunity to take the grimoire.
Lisveth’s smile had fallen. It was clear she now knew exactly how Alcandre was taunting me. Her face flushed, and she gazed at the floor.
I rolled my eyes. “I must go dine with my husband.” Alcandre tensed at that, and I was small enough to enjoy it. “It’s a private dinner,” I purred. “So I will see all of you tomorrow.”
I arrived to the dining room exactly on time, and yet I was the last to walk in. Two men sat across from Sabium. Both of them had attempted to dress as royalty, but the first man’s cloak, though a vibrant shade of crimson, was made of a fabric that lacked the depth and sheen of true velvet, and it hung a little too loosely on his shoulders.
His doublet, while intricately embroidered, featured patterns that were a tad too garish, with the gold threads overly bright. His circlet, though golden, was too thick to suit him, and sat awkwardly on his head.
The second man’s robe of emerald silk was too shiny, suggesting a poor quality of silk. The silver embroidery was overdone, and his vest was buttoned unevenly, giving him a disheveled look. The ceremonial dagger at his belt was overly ornate, bordering on theatrical.
Idiots.
Slowly, I walked to the empty chair as a servant pulled it out for me.
“My queen, Kaliera.” Sabium’s eyes met mine. I searched his face but saw nothing more than the same amused disinterest I’d seen for years. “And this is Zathrian.” He waved his hand toward the man in the crimson cloak sitting across from him.
I knew that name. How did I know that name?
“The true ruler of the hybrid kingdom,” Sabium continued, and I went still.
Zathrian’s resemblance to Prisca was evident around his mouth and chin. But his eyes were cold.
I had spent most of my life anticipating Sabium’s decisions. And yet, I couldn’t have anticipated this.
He hated the fae. But he loathed the hybrids. He still ranted about his once-spectacular capital city and the bitch queen who had spent her last moments ensuring it would be forever cursed.
Deep down, his loathing was hiding fear. Which made him all the more dangerous.
I took my seat. Zathrian raised his cup in my direction. “Majesty.”
His casual demeanor irritated me, and I kept my expression blank as I nodded at him, turning my attention to the man at his side in the poor-quality silk.
He was a well-groomed, attractive man with eyes so dead, it was as if I were looking at a corpse.
“And this,” Sabium said, his voice lowering dangerously, “is Eadric. The man responsible for my spider’s death and the hybrid heir’s escape.”
Zathrian’s mouth twisted and then straightened. It was a movement so quick I almost missed it. He didn’t like Prisca being referred to as the hybrid heir. Sabium’s cold smile told me he’d caught it too.
“Apologies have been given and accepted,” Zathrian said, his expression neutral.
Sabium nodded at Eadric. “I still want him punished.”
Amusement glinted in Eadric’s eyes, and he sipped his wine.
Why did he not seem at all fearful of Sabium?
“He has already been punished,” Zathrian said. “Need I remind you that you were unaware Eadric was mine? I was kind enough to share that information with you.”
My heart stopped. Sabium prided himself on his ability to slip his own people into foreign courts and to turn the most loyal in those courts to his side. But Zathrian had done the reverse to him, sneaking Eadric in among his people.
Soon, both men would be very, very dead. But clearly, Sabium could see some benefit to working with Prisca’s cousin in the short term.
Even I had to admit it was a good plan.
“And yet, there is something much more important to discuss,” Sabium said. “Your failure to kill the Bloodthirsty Prince.”
“Our failure,” Zathrian said mildly, although fury burned in his eyes. “You told me your little mirror would work.”
“It did work. You were supposed to prevent that bitch from freezing time and saving her lover. Instead, the barrier fell, the power returned to the people, and my son is currently a captive, with no hope of release.”
My breath almost caught in my throat. My blood had turned to ice, my face turning numb. But I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.
Zathrian angled his head, watching me closely, and I raised one eyebrow, forcing myself to take a bite.
“I want him back,” I said. Let them think I was nothing more than a concerned mother.
Eadric’s eyes met mine. He’d seen me tremble. I wanted to bare my teeth at him. Instead, I gave him a mild look and turned my attention back to Sabium.
“I think we both know your son is no captive, Your Majesty,” Zathrian said.
Sabium’s face slowly whitened with rage. I didn’t move. I barely breathed.
“Regardless,” Sabium bit out. “I would like to know exactly how they are still alive.”
Zathrian winked at Sabium. “Because my dear cousin broke the rules. She didn’t just stop time. She turned it backward. And she used enough power to prevent me from stopping her.” The mocking expression drained from his face, and his words were coated with bitterness. “She shouldn’t have survived. Such magic is forbidden for a reason.”
Eadric’s eyes had darkened, his hand clenching around his fork. My own hands began to sweat. That amount of power…honed until it was blade-sharp…
No wonder Sabium was furious. The populace would rally behind that kind of power.
Sabium leaned back in his seat. “One of my spies caught a glimpse of her on one of Rostamir’s ships. She did survive. Could she use this kind of power again?”
Zathrian instantly shook his head. “It is a defiance of the gods for her to have used it even once. They will be paying attention to her now. Likely, it required a piece of her soul to achieve it the first time.” Zathrian held up a piece of parchment, raising one eyebrow. Not long ago, Prisca had given me that exact cool, dismissive look. The similarity was eerie. “Now, let us talk about this.”
Sabium scanned it, his eyes cold. “My armies are handling it. There is no threat.”
Zathrian stroked his chin. “If you don’t understand how the rumblings of rebellion can destabilize a kingdom at war—and destroy morale in an army—then we have a problem.”
The room went silent.
“My soldiers have made my position clear. Any who abandon the ranks will have their families killed soon after.” Sabium hadn’t looked at me since we’d sat down, but he glanced at me now. “And what do you think, my queen?”
My heart beat in my throat. I raised my hand to cover the pulse point in my neck, pretending to toy with my hair. “I think our armies can easily handle any such rumblings.”
Sabium flashed his teeth in an expression that could never be called a smile. “Precisely.”
He was giving me his full attention now. And that same terror I’d felt standing next to Pelysian came flooding back.
He knew I’d disappeared from the market. He hadn’t bothered asking where I’d been. It was unlikely anyone at the mine would have recognized Nelia, but he might know she hadn’t returned to her duties here.
I had to find the grimoire and leave tonight. And if I couldn’t find it, I would still need to flee for my life.
I should never have come back here.
The back of my neck itched, and I glanced around, feeling as if someone was watching me yet again. My fae senses roared at me, and yet each time this happened, I was forced to admit that no one was there.
Occasionally, I heard the hiss of a low, taunting voice. Other times, the voice was familiar.
Prisca watched me closely as we returned to the larger cabin Daharak had made available for meetings. We’d taken a brief stroll on the deck, and my wildcat had a pleasing flush to her cheeks.
A flush that gave me all kinds of ideas.
But the moment the door closed, Prisca faced me fully.
“What is it, Lorian?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been acting a little strangely over the past few days. As if you’re on edge.”
As much as my instincts urged me to protect her from any further stress, any potential worry, she deserved better than that. “Can you…feel someone or something watching you?”
She glanced around, wide-eyed.
And just like that, the feeling of being watched disappeared.
“Not at this moment,” I said. “Just…in general. Since the barrier.”
We stepped into the cabin. I swept my gaze around it. No one lurking behind the desk in the corner. No one hiding beneath the small table in the middle of the room.
And yet unease still tightened my muscles.
“No,” Prisca said. I turned to find her chewing on her lower lip, and I instantly regretted speaking. “Do you think it’s one of the gods? Watching you?”
Some part of me wondered if that was exactly what it was. One of the gods taking too much of an interest in me now that I had cheated death. In that case, I hoped I kept their attention. Anything to keep them from focusing on Prisca.
“Are you ready for this meeting, wildcat?”
She narrowed her eyes but allowed the change of subject. “Yes.”
While Demos was making as many decisions as possible regarding our soldiers, he was still in the rebel camp, which meant delays as pigeons traveled back and forth.
Since Demos wasn’t the type to hoard power or information, he’d ensured several ranked hybrids were able to take over some of that decision-making.
And while Prisca was recovering, I’d arranged for one of them to travel to us.
Prisca opened her mouth, but a knock sounded on the door. Leaning over, I opened it, stepping back so the two men could enter. Outside, Marth gave me a nod.
Prisca had met with Blynth briefly in the hybrid camp—a quick introduction as he’d arrived, around the time she’d been secretly preparing to travel to Lyrinore. But I didn’t recognize the shorter man at his side.
The hybrid general seemed to be made of unyielding sternness, his presence commanding attention in any room he entered. His face was etched with deep lines, his eyes a piercing gray that seemed almost impatient with the formalities of rank.
I could relate to that impatience.
His hair was peppered with silver, neatly combed back, as he stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back. His mouth was set in a firm line. His body language projected both strength and reliability.
Exactly what we needed.
“Your Majesties.” He bowed his head to both of us.
Prisca nodded back at him. For once, she didn’t ask him to call her Prisca. For her generals, she needed to be Nelayra, queen of the hybrids. “Thank you for traveling to meet us.”
“A pleasure. I was sorry to hear you were unwell.” He said the words as if they were rote, his gaze drifting over her as if determining whether she was now healthy enough to go to war.
She kept her own gaze steady on his face. “Thank you.”
“This is Jorvik, my aide.”
His aide… “What happened to Thorge?” I asked.
Grief flashed across Blynth’s face as he glanced at me, almost too fast to see, as his expression settled back into those unyielding lines. But the groove between his eyes was deeper now.
“He was killed in a battle with Regner’s iron guards almost as soon as we left the fae lands.”
“I’m sorry,” Prisca said.
He nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. Next to him, Jorvik bowed his head, a stark contrast to the imposing general. Jorvik had a youthful face, his hair a vibrant chestnut falling over bright, keen eyes, and a charming smile.
I didn’t like him. At all. And I could sense Prisca’s unease. I took a step closer to her, and Blynth glanced between us. “Is there a problem, Your Majesty?” He addressed her.
Goose bumps broke out on her arms. I opened my mouth, but Prisca’s eyes had turned intent.
“Yes,” she said, “there is a problem.” She stepped closer to Jorvik, and I barely refrained from dragging her back toward me. “Who are you?”
Blynth frowned, turning his attention to Jorvik.
Slowly, Jorvik raised his arms. “That was fast, Your Majesty. Your cousin made it seem like you were somewhat…challenged when it came to intelligence.”
Prisca smiled at him. His face lost some of its color, and he suddenly seemed much younger than his years.
I lunged, wrapping my hand around Jorvik’s throat… just as the tip of Blynth’s dagger found Jorvik’s pulse point. “Tell me this treachery isn’t the reason Thorge is dead,” he demanded.
“I can’t do that.”
Prisca stepped up close to me. A fine trembling began to take over her body. It wasn’t terror.
Zathrian had twenty thousand hybrids ready to march on us. And now this?
“What does he want?”
“For me to give you a message.” Jorvik swallowed, and a bead of blood appeared at the end of Blynth’s dagger.
“Speak,” I said, and he began to shake. As if it had only just occurred to him exactly how much danger he was in. He had assumed that Prisca was weak, half dead, and presented no true threat.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked Prisca in the eye.
“Tell the elders you cede the crown to Zathrian—or die.”