Chapter 30 #2
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.”