Chapter LVII Politics #2
“Nobody knew she was pregnant!” Xander shouts, raising his arms. “She’s not a real queen! No princess of the Eleven would ever marry an Agnidari. She doesn’t deserve the crown!”
“Sit,” Arvi growls when Xander pushes his chair back.
“Interesting you should mention that,” Sidonius says with a sharp laugh.
“Caliane is hailed as the savior of peace in the Citadel. She single-handedly stopped the Tyrant’s march through the Eleven.
By marrying her, he was forced to stop his conquests.
She’s a hero. And you are the ones who plotted to kill her.
Truly, I’ll be forced to lock you up not only for your crimes, but for your safety, as well.
If you leave the palace, you will be lynched. ”
“My wife’s not here. She’s back home, recovering from a birth. Are you going to keep me from returning to her?”
“You will be imprisoned for your crimes, and your wife will be invited to join the Table of Queens. I know Cassia relies on Trista for wheat, and Amber Port for your textile exports. She will work with us.”
He doesn’t answer me, only nods, sitting back. I admire his poise.
“You will pay for this,” Richard sneers, glaring at me. “When you crawl back to us, because you have no idea how to rule, you will pay.”
I shrug. “Of course, we will make mistakes. And then we will learn and fix them. Honestly, Richard, were you really such a great ruler? I say give Nasturtia five years. She’ll make Trista thrive like you never could”
He sneers. Xander shoots off his chair, toppling it back. Arvi throws a knife but it misses, and then, Xander’s arm is around my throat, pressing down until I wheeze for air.
Everyone freezes, and he laughs, his breath smelling of sausages and something rancid. I cringe away, reaching for my belt. He doesn’t restrain my hands, and maybe he doesn’t need to. His choking hold deprives me of air.
“Release the queen,” Raduna says, the command soft, but deadly. “Now.”
“Open this fucking door,” Xander hisses, spit flying out. “Or I’ll crush her fucking throat!”
Raduna opens the door and moves aside, gesturing at Arvi and Khay with faint motions of his palm. I gulp in a breath when Xander’s hold loosens as he drags me toward the door.
“Nobody move,” Arvi grits out.
There’s a thud and a cry of pain. Xander stops, and I glance at the table. Richard’s palm is stuck through with a knife, nailed to the table.
“I said, don’t move.”
“If you try that on me, she’s dead,” Xander spits, pulling me back again. “Move, you cunt.”
I catch Arvi’s eye. He stands right opposite me, his body hard with tension, but his face is calm. He looks down toward my belt where my fingers are wrapped around the sheath containing my knife. He blinks in the faintest approximation of a nod.
We’re almost out the door when I manage to open the sheath with my shaking fingers slick with sweat.
“Stay back!” Xander roars at Raduna, who tries to follow us. “Close the fucking door and stay there or she dies!”
I brace myself, sending a prayer to Agnidari gods, and whip my tiny, inconsequential knife out. With my last air, I push away from Xander and jab blindly. He gasps. The knife meets the soft flesh of his stomach.
I spring away when he stumbles, and Raduna rushes out through the door with a roar. Khay’s right behind him, pulling me away. Xander doesn’t move, staring at the worn knife handle sticking out of his belly, a black stain spreading on the dark green fabric of his shirt.
Raduna’s sword swings. Xander’s head topples to the ground and rolls away. He remains standing for a few more heartbeats, then collapses. Behind us, there is an uproar, the queens screaming, kings roaring. Someone cries out from pain, and I think Arvi must have sent another knife flying.
I take a moment to breathe and settle my nerves. I promised the queens a peaceful coup. I promised them their husbands would live. What just happened could destroy everything we fought for.
My fault.
Except, it isn’t. Xander was foolish to attack me. I couldn’t have predicted this.
Raduna comes over and lifts my chin, and I look at him with helplessness and fear. He leans close, bowing over me, and places a soft kiss on my lips.
“You are alive and well. Anything else, we can deal with.”
I nod and square my shoulders. He’s right. As long as I’m alive, I can fight. My knife reminds me of that.
I crouch by Xander’s body and take it out, that tiny blade is my amulet. I wipe it on Xander’s shirt and sheathe it at my belt. It might come in handy if another king feels adventurous tonight.
Back in the room, everyone is subdued. The kings sit without moving, only their wide eyes tracking Arvi’s movements. When Raduna enters the room, blood dripping from his sword, Richard flinches. His hand is still stuck to the table, and he wears a grimace of pain, but stays silent.
I go over to Molly. Her face is ashen, lips trembling, but when I stand in front of her, she looks at me with bright eyes.
“I am sorry,” I say, my heart pounding.
If she turns against me now, I won’t have a coup. I’ll have a big pile of nothing. It will be a miracle if we manage to leave the Citadel in one piece if that happens. Sidonius only agreed to help me under the condition that the Eleven Kingdoms, now Eight, will still be a union.
Molly frowns as if uncertain what I’m saying. “He… He attacked you first. I saw it. We all did. He brought this on himself.”
“Still, he was your husband,” I murmur, knowing how my father’s death upset me, even though he hurt me and died trying to kill me.
Molly laughs, the sound hollow and abrupt. “I won’t have to bother with divorce now.”
Susan cackles, leaning against the table. Nasturtia smiles wanly, and even Khay cracks a smile.
The kings are perfectly behaved after Xander’s death, and when Sidonius’ captain of the guard comes in to report that all kings’ retinues have been disarmed and contained, they meekly offer their wrists to receive the shackles.
Sidonius and my knights go with the guards to make sure the kings are properly locked up—and free Magnar.
I don’t go with them. Instead, I sit down with the queens, and we haggle, we quarrel, we discuss and dispute things until we have the first working draft of our treaty.
It defines in broad strokes the principles of our cooperation, our values, and the changes to Sidonius’ office.
When the Master of Peace comes back, he witnesses the signing of the document.
Then, food is brought. We eat and talk until our throats grow hoarse.
We discuss trade agreements, border crossing tolls, and critique the existing pacts of mutual aid.
Susan is very passionate and talks a lot, while Molly mostly listens.
Sidonius cuts in with bits of advice, and pokes those of us who participate less to make sure everyone voices their opinions.
More than once, a queen admits she doesn’t know something or never thought about it. We compile a list of things we’ll need to find out and think through before we meet again.
Hours pass. It’s dark outside when I finally get up, my head feeling oddly light, my body swaying.
Sidonius congratulates us on getting the lion’s share of work out of the way, and promises to guide us in the future.
I remind myself not to trust him. Like everyone, he has his own agenda. All of us do.
When I stretch my back with a grunt, Molly touches my elbow.
“Someone for you,” she says with a shy smile.
I turn slowly, afraid I’ll go dizzy again, and my heart stutters in my chest.
Magnar leans in the doorway, and when our eyes lock, he gives me a wide smile. My heart sinks.