Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
In the days following the events at the Divine Commons and the flight home, time loses meaning as I focus on my queenly duties. I devote as much of it as I can to my citizens, listening to pleas and requests.
Each sunrise brings a new test, a fresh opportunity to fail.
Except failure isn’t an option.
So I push harder, stretch myself thinner, and ignore the hollow sensation behind my ribs where certainty should live.
The Bricklayer’s Guild conclave meets once a month in the room known as the Guild Hall in the palace. Rafe insists it needs to be someplace secure and localized, which makes it easy for me to answer their request to attend.
When I enter, twenty-seven men and women rise as one, their expressions shifting from boredom to awe so quickly it would be comical if it didn’t knot my stomach.
The room, a salon much like the one where Sterling’s mother used to store sweet treats for her children, is as practical as it is grand. With two long wooden tables in the center and an assortment of sofas and chairs along the walls, the lofty space could easily fit twice as many people.
For the next two hours, I listen to impassioned speeches about the demands placed on guild members, the historical context of their service obligations, and increasingly detailed descriptions of mortar compositions.
“What say you, Your Highness?” The guild leader’s bright green eyes bore into mine, and the unamused expression on the stern redheaded woman’s face confirms I spaced out for a minute.
I clear my throat, scribbling a meaningless note on my parchment like I’ve been deep in thought about the guild’s contribution to the capital in the hope that Constance Cochran buys it.
Expectant eyes settle on me.
I haven’t prepared for this. As the queen, I should know exactly what to say. How to say it.
Instead, I’m about to wing it.
“Well, Constance, I think the contribution of the Bricklayer’s Guild to Tirene’s security cannot be overstated.” I begin cobbling together what I remember from historical accounts. “Your ancestors helped create not just our walls, but our very kingdom.”
Somehow, I find words that light up their faces with pride. I grant a partial easement, enough to honor their request without compromising security. By the time I leave, they’re practically glowing with loyalty, Constance Cochran included.
Miracles do happen.
The next day brings trade negotiations with merchants from the Eastern Provinces. I stay up until dawn reviewing grain prices and tax structures only to have my carefully prepped arguments dismissed with a casual, “That’s not how King Jasper handled these matters.”
I muster up a tight smile for the haughty merchant. “Perhaps it’s time for new approaches.”
But inside, doubt gnaws. What if the old ways were better? What if I’m too ignorant, too foreign still, to lead properly?
In the evening, I cancel my dinner to read more about Eastern trade relations. I ignore the way my stomach growls in protest.
The day after brings a military inspection. I stand straight-backed beside Agnar as we review the troops. The soldiers’ eyes briefly flick to me. Worried about being led by a woman? Believing the rumors that I destroyed magic? Concerned we will be attacked simply because I am their queen?
“They respect you.” Agnar bumps me with his elbow.
I give a small shake of my head. “They tolerate me.”
His crude noise almost tempts me to smile. “No, truly. They would die for you. Every last one of them.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent.” The words come out sharper than intended.
Agnar’s eyebrows rise, but he says nothing more.
Back in my chambers, I trade my formal gown for a comfortable pale yellow tunic and breeches. Then I head to my private sitting room and wave a flame into existence in the fireplace so I can read in comfort.
Accounts of battles from centuries past. Strategies for deploying troops against navy, air, and land troops. Prayers and countermeasures. The insights from generals whose names have been lost to the ages.
I fall asleep at the table and dream of Sterling with empty black eyes and blood on his hands.
The pattern continues, day after day. Council meetings where I speak with authority I don’t feel. Public appearances where I smile until my face aches. Late nights poring over books until the words dance before my eyes.
It’s still not enough.
I sit in my public sitting room, surrounded by towers of books and scrolls unrolled across every surface. Astrid, ever my dedicated assistant, is busy penning replies from my notes. I’m deep into A History of the Five-Fold Wars when the door opens.
I don’t glance up. In just a few more pages, I might find something useful about countering divine influence.
“You’re trying too hard to be something you’re not.”
Sterling’s voice cuts through my concentration. My head jerks up, and I find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His mouth is set in a hard line.
“You mean a queen?” The fear that’s been my constant companion flares. “You think I can’t be a good queen?”
He pushes away from the door as he gestures to the disarray around me. “You don’t need to be this kind of queen.”
I survey the mess I’ve created in my attempt to prep. “What kind of queen should I be? The kind who doesn’t know her kingdom’s history? Who can’t quote precedent when the council challenges her decisions? Who doesn’t understand the first thing about—”
“The kind who knows her own mind.” Sterling moves closer, cautious not to disturb any of my carefully arranged piles. “The kind who trusts her instincts. The kind who brought peace to all kingdoms not through dusty old laws, but through courage and kindness.”
I turn back to my book. “That’s a pretty story. But pretty stories don’t run kingdoms.”
“Lark.” His voice takes on that alluring timbre that still causes my heart to skip, even after everything we’ve been through. “You’re burying your head in history books, but we need to learn what’s happening with the gods in the here and now.”
I tap the heavy tome before me, refusing to look up. “There was strategy about dealing with the gods in the Five-Fold Wars. I’m sure I’ll get to it…soon.”
Sterling paces the room, careful to avoid stepping on scrolls. “I hope so. Because I’m fairly certain our issues aren’t going to be solved by fretting over what everyone thinks. Not when you can change their perception through action.”
That gets my attention. There’s something in his voice that triggers a memory.
I offer a tired smile. “You sound like your mother.”
His expression softens. “Good.”
“She told me something like that once, and it stuck with me. ‘A leader’s first responsibility is to define reality.’” The Dowager Queen might have been flighty, but she had moments of startling clarity.
Remembering that conversation with Alannah about what it meant to be a queen, to truly lead people, brings tears to my eyes.
“I wish she were still here to guide us.”
“So do I. And that sounds just like her.” Sterling runs a hand through his glossy hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty that snags my attention more than his words.
Before I can question him further, Astrid opens the door and offers a quick bow. “Your Highness, you have a visitor.”
I’m about to say I’m too busy when a small figure darts past. A little girl with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Rose. The tiny ball of fire hovering above her shoulder casts dancing shadows across her freckled face.
“Queen Lark!” She skids to a stop, eyes wide with excitement. “And Prince Knox! I found you both!”
Sterling raises an eyebrow at the guard peeking inside, who has the decency to appear sheepish.
“Hey there, Rose. You know you don’t have to use fancy titles with us.” I set my book aside, ready to suggest we take a break from research to entertain the child, when she suddenly becomes serious.
“I know. But Mama says it’s the polite thing to do.” She peers up at her flame familiar, then back to us. “The flame wants to show you something.”
The familiar flickers as if in agreement.
Sterling and I exchange a glance, and for the first time in days, I feel a spark of something other than exhaustion. Curiosity.