Chapter 6
Six
If we want to protect our freedom, we must go to war.
And yet, nothing is ever solved by war. Change only comes with the end of it.
- King Richard
Nearly a hundred stalls are spread out in front of the castle.
The long tables are full of wares brought in from all corners of our kingdom.
Armoured clothes woven out of spider silk.
Beautifully taxidermied corpses and decorated bones from the animals of this forest, with flowers and mosses woven through them.
Wild, dark splashes of colour across canvases that capture all the hopes of war.
My people have brought their best to be laid out on these tables, to flaunt our wealth in front of the poorer Vylians.
Traditional foods and spices flavour the air.
Vylians have mostly lived on gruel and other mixes, made of whatever they could find.
One of our tactics when we were at war was to drop food along the branches, then occasionally ambush the starving soldiers when they bent to pick it up.
If we attacked them every time, they would’ve stopped falling for it.
But dangle a bit of hope in front of a terrified man…
My skin crawls with that same feeling of walking into a trap yet being unable to resist. I look at my wife as we move through the empty square. And I can feel the women lying in wait to kill me.
As we reach the other end of the market, where a dark-purple ribbon stretches between two pillars, the tension inside me pulls taut. The twelve women of the Court spread out behind us, six on each side, symbolising the wings of a dragon.
“Last night, we celebrated the signing of the Raza-Vyla Treaty,” I say, speaking to the crowd on the other side of the ribbon. Vylians, Razians, and brownies all stand before us – separated into their own groups, refusing to mingle even now.
But I knew change would not come easy. I have fought my people’s resistance for decades. I will keep fighting it for many years to come.
Feeling my sister’s presence here, I try not to look at all the guards standing in the crowd or flying above us, armed with sniper wands. I try not to listen to the harsh voice in my skull, mocking this idea of progress. The night always gets darker before dawn.
“The war between our two kingdoms ended,” I continue. “Today, Vylians and brownies will trade in our lands for the first time, as our people will trade in theirs tomorrow. There will be a great deal more firsts in the coming years.
“Peace will not be quick, and it will not be easy. But it is the first step to growing old with our loved ones. To seeing our grandchildren born. To no longer carving the names of our children and wives into the trunks of our trees. So thank you, Razians, Vylians, and brownies, for being here today as we open Raza’s first international market. ”
Moving forwards, Jace offers a large pair of scissors to both me and King Dravr, who’s standing on my left side. I squeeze Arienna’s hand before releasing her, and together, the Vylian king and I cut through the ribbon, opening up the market.
The brownies, both in the crowd and standing at their stalls behind us, rupture into applause. Everyone else stays silent.
“To the many of firsts,” King Dravr says as he stares into the crowd.
Turning towards me, he nods, and I respond in kind.
Then together, the four of us –him and his wife and me and mine– walk through the market.
The Court splits, with half of them heading back to the castle, the other half moving with us.
I look around, tracking who’s here. Petre is not part of those who remain.
So does that mean these six are those who have not been told of her plans to assassinate me? Or are they here to fool me into thinking they’re innocent when we’re attacked?
“So, King Dravr,” Arienna says excitedly as we stop at the first stall on our right – a Razian father and son selling scented candles. “Do Vylians like to peg as much as Razians do?”
There is utter silence.
“Oh, of course!” she says, nodding as if she understands the look on his face. “You can’t possibly answer without knowing how many Razians like to be pegged. All of them love it, and Richard –”
“Have you smelled this?” I cut in, picking up a random candle and shoving it under her nose. She sniffs, breathing in a mixture of morning dew and poppies. A dreamy smile graces her face.
“This is wonderful!” she says, turning her attention to the merchant.
King Dravr looks at me, no doubt wondering if I’ve gone mad, taking her as my wife – or perhaps soft enough to kill in battle.
“Can I have it?” Arienna asks.
The merchant’s amber eyes widen. “Y-yes, yes, of course, Your Majesty. Son, get her a bag. That’ll be five –” He stops, shaking his head.
“No, no. It’s on the house. I’m honoured that you like my candles and are speaking to me.
It’s been decades since we’ve had a queen.
We need –” Horror filling his features, he stops talking.
His eyes dart to me. “Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done, Your Majesty.
I do. It’s just…” He swallows nervously. His son moves behind him.
“We’ll pay for it,” I say. “You’re here to make money, and you pay us enough in taxes.”
He almost looks like he’s going to faint. His son nudges him. “I’ll get a bag, pa.”
“Of course, of course.” Shaking his head, he smiles at me, then looks back at my queen. “Is there… is there anything else? Not to be pushy, of course. But I have a wide range of smells captured from all over our forest. My son has made his first batch today too, and he is very proud.”
She looks at me.
I nod at the wares. “Take what you wish.”
Beaming, she starts to sniff every candle within reach.
Slowly, King Dravr and a few of the Court members start to browse the table too.
Picking up a bar of soap, he doesn’t raise it to his nose.
Instead, he turns it over in his hands as he looks at me.
“This is…” he says quietly. He hesitates for a moment.
“When you waved the white flag, I expected it to be a trap. We would’ve ambushed you if we had the soldiers left to do so.
” He shakes his head. “I never dreamed it would end like this. With someone like her being able to survive here, let alone be queen.” He looks out across the market, which is slowly starting to fill with people.
The Vylian stalls are passed by most. A little boy stops at one selling dolls, only to be pulled along by his father.
“I wish for it not to end here,” I say, pulling his attention back to me, “but to start here. One day, Alzans, Jokeni, and Okahi will trade here too.”
His eyes sharpen, searching my face “You have grown much since becoming king,” he finally says. Wariness fills him as he shakes his head. “May it last long enough for me to die in peace.”
His pessimism bothers me, but then, he is much older than I.
He has suffered for longer. Has lost more people.
Has witnessed too many ceasefires fall apart.
His wife is not a love match. His children are dead.
His kingdom is on the brink of financial ruin.
There is no space left in his life for hope to burn.
“Can I have all of these?” Arienna asks, gesturing to her pile of goods. A dozen candles sit beside two bars of soap. I pick up one of the latter and inhale. Gosberries. My eyes narrow.
“This better not be for Jace,” I growl.
She giggles. “Noooo. It’s for Fabia.”
She sneaks a look at Jace, standing beside me, then me. Her smile brightens. My head of security plucks the bar of soap from me, sniffs it, then places it down on the table to grab another one.
“Get her this,” he says.
“Honey dew and chocolate?” She sniffs, then nods. “It is nice enough to eat.” She giggles.
I glance at Jace. Those are two of Nicholas’ favourite foods. He grins at me, and I frown, wondering if I’ve missed something about my brother.
“We’ll take the lot,” I tell the merchant before guiding my wife through the rest of the market.
The Vylian king and queen split off to go their own way.
The six Court members follow us, each trying to talk to my wife.
But she keeps striking them mute by asking them about their sex lives, then getting distracted by the next pretty thing.
My skin prickles as we move through a tightening crowd.
The only people who are supposed to have weapons here are me, King Dravr, and my guards.
Even the stalls of the blacksmiths are only covered in metal decorations.
Still, I’ve not felt this on edge for decades, not since I was a child tasked with leading my first squadron into battle.
My eyes skirt around the market. My fingers itch to draw one of the twelve knives I have strapped on me: two inside the toes of my boots; two tucked inside the shafts, resting just above my ankles; two sheathed on the undersides of my forearms, hidden beneath my full sleeves; two larger ones crossing at my back, over my clothes, but under my wings; and four throwing knives on the top of my wrists.
But a knife is shit protection against magic. My eyes lift to the sky above, checking to see if any of the snipers look on edge.
“You must know that this peace cannot last,” Dragon Coo murmurs as she steps up next to me as Arienna is distracted by a stall of books.
Her dusty pink hair is much darker than my wife’s.
It’s cut at the same length though, stopping at her shoulders so it doesn’t bother her wings.
“And when it breaks, you do not want Raza to be fractured from within.”
“If we are fighting to protect our freedoms,” I say, looking her over for any signs of betrayal, “then we must not give them up ourselves. It is time we know a world without war.”
“A fairy tale,” she seethes. “Shall we know the might of the gods simply because we wish for better?”