Trials and Command (The Roumaterra Chronicles #5)

PROLOGUE

Sakura

The tiny gear’s teeth bit into Sakura’s fingers as she carefully lined it up. The timekeeping function was working properly, but the bell kept ringing at five minutes—

“What does that do?”

She swatted her fourteen-year-old brother’s hand away. “No touching, Hari. If you damage something, it won’t wake you at the right time.”

“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for me,” he laughed. “All I did was complain that the servants let me sleep too late. You decided to make a clock with an alarm because you wanted to tinker.”

“Careful, Hari. Words like that will convince Dai I’m heartless,” she said coolly, hiding a smile as she swiped a few of her straight black hairs out of her face.

“And then he may spread word of my un-princess-like hobby. Mother would have a heart attack, the people would revolt, and Father would have to promise the throne of Ryuni to you to calm them.”

“Don’t even joke about such things.” Hari gave a theatrical shudder. “Me, king? Perish the thought, and long live the future Queen Sakura.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness, I’ll never tell,” Daichi, Hari’s seventeen-year-old guard, assured her with a warm smile. “It is my sworn duty to protect Prince Hatori, after all.”

She resisted the urge to smile back or turn and admire the way he filled out his uniform.

Hari might consider Daichi a friend, unseemly as that was, but she couldn’t let herself dwell too much on the young guard’s kind smile or his encouraging words for her unorthodox interests.

If she wanted to be queen someday, she had to meet two basic criteria. First, she had to be married.

And second: the man she married could not be common.

Since she was only seventeen, she had plenty of time to figure out the marriage part, but she needed to make sure she kept her focus where it belonged. Among the gentlemen at court.

Not her brother’s dark-eyed guard.

Setting her tools on her workbench, Sakura stood and brushed her hands on her apron. “I will have to finish later,” she said briskly, hanging her apron on its nail. “It is time to prepare for the audience this afternoon.”

“Why? You just stand there and listen while the people voice complaints.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it,” Sakura replied, peering into the mirror she kept in her workroom. Good; no smudges on her face this time. Though the loose hairs were a problem. “The people need confidence in their future queen. I must make the most of every opportunity.”

“Your hair looks fine,” Hari told her. He picked up a screwdriver and twirled it between his fingers. “No one will know that you caught it on a bin of spare parts.”

If Mother saw her, she would get an earful for her less-than-perfect appearance. Why couldn’t she have damaged her hairstyle on a day that her maid had accompanied her to her little room? Kasumi could have fixed it in a trice. Maybe if she—

Her whirling hand caught on a small tin of nails. Daichi lunged forward, catching the tin before it crashed onto the floor. A few nails tipped over the side and silently buried themselves in the rug.

“I’ll clean it up, Your Highness.” He knelt and began running his large hand through the carpet. “You go get ready.”

“I’m sorry, Dai.” Her right hand crept up toward her elbow, but the apology was already stretching the limits of acceptability. “This isn’t the job of a guard.”

“It’s fine. Kasumi isn’t here, and calling anyone else would mean letting them see what you have in here.” He paused to smile at her. “And I’ll protect your right to tinker as long as I can.”

Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she gave him a regal nod and turned to her brother. “You have a key?”

“I’ll lock up when we leave,” he promised. “Don’t forget to include lunch in your preparations!”

She couldn’t be sure there would be time until after she was dressed. And if she waited until she was dressed, she might spill something on herself, just as she’d spilled the nails. Since she only attended one audience each month, she couldn’t take that risk.

~

Sakura’s stomach curled in on itself, reminding her that she’d skipped lunch, but it stayed blessedly silent.

Only one more hour until she could find something to eat and finally sit down.

And only a few more months until she was officially the heir and could sit next to Father for these sessions instead of standing behind his throne.

Folding her hands at her waist, she turned to the next petitioner, steeling herself to resist the woman’s pleas if need be. A ruler’s job was to ensure her people had what was necessary, not to provide luxuries. As Mother often told her, the common folk existed to serve their betters.

The line of distinction must always be clear.

“Welcome to today’s audience,” Sakura greeted calmly. “What is your request?”

The young woman lowered herself into a deep curtsy. “I come not with a request, but with a message, royal daughter.”

“A message? From whom?”

“The heavens,” the petitioner answered with a straight face. “Delivered by their gift of magic, which provides me with insight into future events.”

“Magic?” Sakura replied blandly, hiding her scoff. “There is no such thing.”

The petitioner ran a hand over her right ear. Sakura’s eyes widened as the top of the woman’s ear lengthened, thinning into an impossible taper. “Are you certain, royal daughter?”

What trick was this?

Father leaned forward on his throne. Sakura could hear the note of concern in his voice, even if no one else could. “And what message do you have for us, magician?” he asked.

The petitioner curtsied again and bowed her head. “One of good news for the royal daughter, Your Majesty. The heavens have seen the discord in your kingdom. The lower classes feel disregarded by their rulers, despite beneficent sessions like this one.”

Mother’s nose drifted higher, and Sakura fought the urge to stiffen. Who was this woman to make such statements?

“Therefore,” the petitioner continued, “the heavens have seen fit to grant you a blessing, that the people may see that the crown truly cares for them and will provide for the humblest of its citizens.”

“A blessing,” Father echoed. “That does not sound so terrible.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed.”

“Yes, there will be much rejoicing.” The petitioner dipped her head. “For a common soldier will wed the royal daughter, cementing the union between the crown and the people, and thus proving the regard each has for the other.”

The audience chamber was silent. Or perhaps Sakura’s ears had simply blocked all sound as the blood drained from her face.

This wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse. A disaster.

“I want her gone,” Mother seethed, half rising from her seat. “Remove her! To the dungeons, for daring to speak such words.”

Sakura struggled to find her voice. “But if it is a prophecy, does it matter whether she spoke it or not? She has not made it so. She has only given us a warning of what must be.”

“I can still spend my wrath on her,” the queen growled. “Guards!”

The guards surged forward. Their hands passed through the petitioner’s arms, but Sakura barely registered their startled exclamations. Nor did she properly process the impossibility of what she’d witnessed.

None of it seemed real. Why shouldn’t the arrest fail because of an incorporeal messenger? It was as believable as the woman’s ear.

Turning slowly, Sakura slipped into the tiny anteroom behind the thrones and let herself drop against the wall. She had been raised to be queen. Only that morning, her father had spoken proudly of preparations for the ceremony to name her the crown princess on her eighteenth birthday.

But if the magic-user was correct – if Sakura married a common soldier – Hari would have to be king, despite his distaste for the position. If the law could be changed—

But it couldn’t. Not this one. Not one that was woven into the original founding documents of their kingdom.

Theoretically, it was possible. But no one had managed it in a thousand years.

By the end of the day, the prophecy had completely upended her life.

Now that Sakura wouldn’t be his heir, Father had offered to make a prince of any man who could slay the ogre troubling their lands.

Mother was deep in preparations to hide Sakura away at their winter castle, where she would be out of reach of any and all soldiers.

And Daichi was gone.

Mother claimed that she’d reassigned him because he’d wormed his way into friendship with Hari, but Sakura knew better.

Sitting alone in her room that night, her finger traced a meaningless pattern on the window as she stared sightlessly at the darkness beyond.

She didn’t know if she would manage to evade her prophecy someday.

She didn’t know if she could keep her brother from the throne he dreaded. But one thing she did know.

She could never be friends with a commoner again.