Chapter 30
Stavros
Every hoofbeat of the horse next to mine sends more tension coiling around my innards. I glance over at my foremost companion on our journey. “You didn’t need to join me for this expedition, Your Highness.”
Petra lifts her chin with the stoic determination I’m becoming used to in our future queen. “I know you and Ivy want to keep me out of danger, but I can’t hang so far back that I’m shying from my duties. We’re going to be asking a lot of Provinca Yessaine and her household. She should know I’m taking my fair share of risks as well. The request will mean more coming directly from me.”
I’m sure that’s true, but every instinct of my military training tells me that the meeting we hope to initiate could easily turn into an ambush. I trust Provinca Yessaine’s loyalties enough to be riding out to one of her homes with a small entourage of associates, but not so much I want to stake the security of the royal family on it.
As if she’s read my mind, Petra shoots me a pointed look. Her tone is dry with amusement. “If something happens to me, you still have two other Melchioreks currently safe under Baron Cyris’s roof to take the throne.”
I grimace at her. It’s obvious why she and Ivy get along so well. They’re both damned stubborn and far too good at arguing their case even when I want to refuse them.
“I’ll endeavor to ensure that’s not a concern,” I say, smoothing my frustration from my voice. “But please don’t stray from your guards.”
If I were coming on my own, I’d have brought only one or two comrades with me to assist the provinca and her staff if they agree to set our plan in motion. Because we have a Melchiorek among us, I insisted on four soldiers on top of that, and even that number feels insufficient.
Petra’s mouth slants as if she’s going to reject that suggestion as well. “I suppose I should be grateful for the freedoms I had in those years when no one knew I was anything other than a distant relative of the queen’s.”
I study her as I formulate my answer. How can I know what goes on in the head of a woman who’s lost her parents and found herself thrust into the highest leadership role so suddenly and violently?
Especially when she’s talking to a man who should have been there to protect her father but wasn’t.
But I did know her father. I might not have agreed with every decision King Konram made, but I can imagine the lessons he passed on to all his children while he could.
I adjust my grip on the reins. “There are different freedoms that will replace those you lost, once we see you back where you belong. You can’t protect your people as you’re meant to unless we protect you in turn. But you’ll wield more power than most of your subjects could conceive of.”
A faint smile flickers across her face. “Of course you’re right. I apologize. I didn’t mean to complain when I’ve had so much handed to me by virtue of my birth.”
“Both boons and responsibilities. The latter can be heavy to carry. We all have our own burdens to shoulder if we strive to serve well—and I know you mean to.”
“Yes.” The word comes out of her like a sigh. “I hope Provinca Yessaine can recognize that too. And if we can prepare these trials in time, I can prove to all my people that I deserve the trust I’m asking them to put in me.”
“It isn’t only birth regardless, you know,” I remark. “It’s experience and training. You’ve seen the inner workings of a kingdom as no one except your siblings has. You understand what it takes to rule. I can’t say even I would feel prepared to take on a role that immense.”
A teasing lilt returns to her voice. “Not even the great General Stavros? I don’t imagine you’d do a terrible job as monarch.”
I glance away, taking in the landscape and the buildings of the city we’re approaching for the fleeting moment before they blur in front of me. “I wasn’t hale enough to continue as a general. King is another order altogether. I failed to protect the king I’d sworn to defend from the worst threats he faced. I’ll be happy if I can simply ensure that you’re restored to the throne.”
Petra lapses into a momentary silence. She glances at me sideways, her expression gone solemn. “You didn’t fail my father, Stavros. Surely you don’t think that.”
I lift my shoulders in a slight shrug, tamping down the swell of guilt inside me. “I did everything I could to save him, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Because he didn’t let you. He pushed you away. If there were any failures in that equation, he failed you. Even this conversation proves why he should have trusted your judgment more.” She shakes her head. “I think you see perfectly well in the ways that matter most. I appreciate your guidance, even if I don’t follow every caution.”
I don’t know if I can fully agree with her, but the words spoken in her steady voice take the sharpest edge off my regrets.
We veer onto the lane that leads to the sprawling estate just beyond the city walls, where Provinca Yessaine enforces her authority over Aberni province.
I’m reasonably sure of the provinca’s loyalty because I collaborated with her local military efforts more than once, whenever they needed to push back incursions from the Darium empire across the Seafell Channel. Our association also means I know about the hidden back entrance in the estate wall where her family accepts visitors they don’t want to draw attention to.
After a short trot longer, we turn off the road, give the main entrance a wide berth, and circle around the back. When we’ve drawn close to the section of mortared stone I was aiming for, I motion for the rest of our company to stand their ground, dismount, and walk the last several paces on foot.
I press my hand to the keystone and then rap out a pattern only a few recent generals will have been given. I suspect Provinca Yessaine will be able to guess which one is calling on her.
Luck willing, she’s heard enough about the Order of the Wild to realize that I’m fighting for our country as always, not against it as Lothar would claim.
I have no way of telling exactly how much time passes while we wait. The city bells ring in the late afternoon hour. Finally, footsteps crunch through the brush on the other side of the wall, where the estate’s hunting woods lie.
Several sets of footsteps. If the provinca intends to meet us herself, she hasn’t come alone.
Then again, I wouldn’t have expected her to.
There’s nothing wrong with my ears. I listen closely and then raise my hand toward my companions, splaying my fingers twice to indicate that we should expect ten figures in this confrontation.
Just as I’m lowering my arm, the hidden doorway grates open.
Provinca Yessaine peers out at me, her face framed by the raised swords of the guards standing half a step ahead of her on either side. She folds her arms over her lean chest and raises a thin eyebrow at me without a word.
I dip my head to her respectfully and catch a familiar face behind her that I hadn’t expected to see here. It appears the provinca has called her daughter back from the royal college.
Further evidence that she’s unsettled by the current state of affairs in Silana.
“Provinca Yessaine,” I say in acknowledgment. “And Romild—it’s good to see you’re well.”
My former student fixes me with a stare as steely as her mother’s. Does she still resent that I chose Ivy as my supposed assistant rather than opening the position more widely? I know she coveted that spot—and made no secret of it with the woman I love.
I would hope we can put any sour feelings from before behind us. But there is a reason Ivy didn’t join us on this particular expedition, just in case.
Romild nudges her mother with a brief murmur, and the provinca’s gaze slides past me to the riders in the shade of the trees. Her normal unflappable expression twitches.
Romild must have pointed out the face she can recognize from their time as classmates.
Provinca Yessaine drops into a deeper bow than mine. “Your Highness. I didn’t realize—if I’d known?—”
Petra offers a small smile. “It’s perfectly all right.”
Relief trickles through my knotted stomach, but not enough for me to let down my guard. “The rightful queen wishes to speak with you. I’m not sure it would be wise for many to see her entering your home. Are you willing to conduct the conversation in a less conventional setting?”
Yessaine lets out a soft chuckle. “That sounds fair enough. We will come out—but I hope you won’t take insult if my guards accompany me.”
“Absolutely not,” Petra says. “We all have reason to be wary in the current climate.”
I draw back to stand near Petra while the provinca, Romild, and their eight protectors ease out through the doorway. As we face each other in the lengthening shadows, Petra and our own small squadron of guards descend from their horses.
I’d like to shield my future queen, but I know she won’t accept being hidden behind me. So instead I flank her alongside one of the royal soldiers who’s been with us since Florian, with the rest of our company in a semicircle around us.
A lightly sweet scent laces the air from the first early spring blooms. Petra draws her posture up commandingly straight and holds Yessaine’s gaze.
“You must have heard about the horrors Lothar and his followers are carrying out. I need help to put down this uprising once and for all and end the slaughter that’s come with it.”
The provinca’s mouth tightens. “I don’t care for the stories that’ve been passed on to me or the scenes I’ve witnessed myself. But this Order of the Wild has spread through every city and town in the country, it seems. Two of my counts tried to stand against them when they first swept through the province, and their entire families were slaughtered.” She touches Romild’s shoulder. “I’m not throwing away our lives on a principle.”
I clear my throat. “That’s why we came to you discreetly, Provinca. We have no interest in putting you in danger.”
“I assume you want me to offer my military forces to fight these scourge sorcerers. I’m afraid many of the soldiers stationed here have deserted.”
Petra speaks up again, clear and calm. “Your strength would be valued if it comes to a battle of force, but I came here today seeking a subtler sort of assistance. I don’t believe we can defeat the chaos Lothar has stirred up unless the people are convinced that I truly am a better choice to offer peace and security.”
Up goes the eyebrow again. “And how do you expect to do that?”
“The Order of the Wild has spoken of the old kingship trials,” Petra says smoothly. “We will hold our own trials to show I’m prepared to prove myself. But we need to move swiftly so we can ensure they happen fairly and not through the scourge sorcerers’ twisted means. Aberni is renowned not just for defending our country from invasion but also the speed with which you’ve alerted the rest of the country about impending threats.”
One of our other companions steps forward, holding a thick bundle of paper. “We’ve printed pamphlets to be passed around in every town and city your best messengers and their connections can reach.”
I nod. “Your people know the fastest and most surreptitious routes, as well as who will pass on the word farther. They won’t need to linger anywhere long enough for the Order to confront them.”
Yessaine shifts on her feet, still looking uncertain. “If even one of them is caught and Lothar traces them back to my family…”
“I will protect you in every way I can,” Petra says. “But I expect by then he’ll be too concerned with addressing the impending trials to waste manpower trying to destroy a province with such a formidable reputation.”
“Are you sure these trials are even worth the risk to you?” the provinca asks. “With the rumors flying around, public opinion has been turning against the Order. The unrest might reach the point of an opposing rebellion in time.”
Petra grimaces. “We don’t have time. Lothar is already preparing for his next move against me, and if we don’t beat him to the punch, he could shatter any trust I’ve gained. I need the people to see how far I’m willing to go to earn their loyalty.”
Yessaine drops her gaze. Like the baron and his friends, I’d imagine she finds the idea of a Melchiorek agreeing to compete in some sort of trial distasteful, which can’t help our appeal.
With a twitch of my eyes, I focus on her and prod my gift. A prickle quivers through my nerves. If I can get some glimpse of how she’ll react, prove that I can still anticipate the country’s needs as I once did?—
The vision that flashes before my eyes isn’t of the provinca’s response. I catch a movement from the corner of my eye—the man two over from her left springing forward with an abruptly drawn blade he stabs into Petra’s heart.
My body stiffens. With another tick of my gaze, my vision reforms into the actual tableau in front of me.
Our groups are still facing each other in our discussion. No one has made a hostile move.
But that guard is planning to. His jaw has tensed, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger in its sheath.
My first instinct is to leap forward and slam him to the ground before he can think for another second about hurting the future queen. Only my two dozen years of training back to when I could first hold a sword hold me in place.
I didn’t become the lauded General Stavros through brute force. I was known for strategy above all else.
The common people aren’t the only ones who’ll be swayed by visible proof. If Provinca Yessaine is going to believe that the current danger is urgent enough to warrant the favor we’re asking of her, she needs to see the severity of the threat play out with her own eyes, not simply hear a claim I make.
I have to protect Petra not just against the most immediate threat, but against everything that could go wrong spiraling out from this meeting.
My fingers itch for my sword. If I draw it, I might frighten the traitor into thinking better of his scheme—for now. He could simply bide his time for later, when I’m not close enough to act.
My glimpses of the future are never more than a minute or two ahead of the event. All I have to do is hold myself braced and ready?—
I’ve missed a couple of exchanges between Petra and the provinca, but my attention doesn’t fail me. My eyes catch the instant the guard adjusts his stance to lunge forward.
He springs at Petra with a hoarse cry and a hiss of his blade from its sheath—and I hurtle between them at the same moment.
The dagger clangs off my metal prosthetic. I slam my knee into the man’s belly and wrench his wrist behind his back as I shove him to the ground.
Sweat cools the back of my neck. My heart hammers as the iron flavor of panic laces my mouth.
There’s no need for fear. I intervened in time.
My monarch trusted me, and I didn’t fail her. I played this game of swords as well as I ever have.
But even with the relief of that knowledge sweeping through me, I need to play politics too.
Yessaine cried out in the moment. When I lift my head to meet her eyes, she’s staring at her guard, white-faced with horror.
“Baldric,” she mumbles. “He’s been in our service for nearly a decade. He’s never spoken—never acted?—”
I firm my voice to its most authoritative tone. The voice that commanded armies of thousands against our greatest foes. “Scourge sorcery is like a sickness. They’ve infected more people than we can guess with their toxic claims and ideals. Lothar and his followers must be stamped out now, before they spread their poison even farther.”
Petra speaks up after my last words. “And we will conquer them as Stavros did this traitor in your midst—if those who have the means to stand with us will do so.”
Yessaine shakes herself. “I…”
Romild touches her arm. For a brief moment, I’m worried she’ll pull her mother back into hesitation.
But there’s a reason I would have seriously considered the provinca-to-be as a potential assistant if Ivy hadn’t claimed that position by necessity.
My former pupil squares her shoulders. “Mother, we have to. They’re barely asking anything at all. We should do more. You didn’t raise me to cower when there’s work to be done.”
The provinca exhales sharply and matches her daughter’s stance. “Indeed, I didn’t. Queen Petra, you’ll have your messengers—and all the soldiers I can offer, when you need them too. Let’s take back our country.”