ESSA
Iwatched from the balcony as the Sylph ships plowed into the harbor, their silver hulls cutting like knives through seas painted the pastel hues of dawn. The Prelate stood on one side of me, Ollie and Hoatan on the other.
“The start of a new era,” Hoatan breathed. “Long have we worked for closer alliance with the Sylph. Your mother desired it as well.”
Don’t speak of my mother, I wanted to say.
It’s what I would have said, once upon a time.
But I hardly had the breath to speak, constricted as I was by the ornate silver gown I wore—one of my mother’s finest. And more than that, I felt wrung out, body and soul.
I felt exhausted. Old. I felt like giving up.
In truth, I felt like falling into Charlie’s arms. But I’d sent him away… I would probably never see him again. And that would probably be for the best.
But I pulled my mind back to the present situation.
The ships now approaching must have lingered out at sea during the night.
Now, ten of them were approaching the wharves with shocking speed.
Many more lurked in the distance, made ghostly by the morning haze.
There was something ominous about these ships, I thought.
Something unsettling in the way they moved, hardly disturbing the water despite their speed.
At this rate, the nearest ones would be here in minutes.
“Prepare me for the audience,” I said, turning to Hoatan. “What is it they want from us—really?”
He gave me an uncomfortable smile. “Why, nothing, Your Majesty. Just to honor you as you take the throne. And to offer their assistance against our enemies.”
“Bullshit,” I said, using a favorite Admarian term.
Hoatan straightened up, looking offended, but Prelate Kortoi laughed.
“We must remember, Hoatan, that our queen is not a little girl any longer, nor a rebellious teenager. She is a queen, with a queen’s acumen,” he eyed me, nodding.
“Of course the Sylph Lord wants something, Your Majesty. I expect he comes now to tell us what that is. So far, he has been lavish in his offers and his promises. We always knew a but was coming—but it hasn’t come yet. ”
“We’re hardly in a very good bargaining position,” I pointed out.
“What? With our nobles slaughtered, our lands torn by civil war, our Skrathan decimated, and an Admite invasion on our doorstep?” Ollie joked sardonically.
“That will make it all the more critical that the four of us present a united front,” Kortoi said.
Reaching out with his long-nailed fingers, he tightened one of the bows on my dress.
It was something my mother would have done if she were here.
Kortoi doing it sent a shiver of revulsion through me, but I was too weary to slap his hand away.
“Indeed,” Hoatan said. “We must convince him that civil strife is behind us, that the Skrathan, the Gray Brothers, the Crown, and the common people speak with one voice.”
Ollie nodded in agreement, his eyes pleading with me to go along. To be reasonable.
I had to admit, Hoatan’s words made sense.
And in that moment, more than ever before, I saw what it was to be queen.
Though I would rather have spit in Kortoi’s face and buried a dagger in Hoatan’s breast—I had no choice now but to embrace them like brothers for the good of the people.
It was a truth as bitter as bile. But at this moment, my inner fire felt too burned out to even rebel. Instead, I nodded.
“Let’s go down, then,” I said. “And receive our guests.”
The throne room had been decorated with flowers and hanging swags of shimmering white cloth, as if for a wedding.
Ranks of Lacunae and Gray Brothers stood along the walls.
Romia, Kramat, Cronin, and Kennak Bargate—looking much better now that he was bathed and dressed in his finery—all stood to the right of the throne, along with their dragons.
Romia gave me a nod and even a hint of a smile when she saw me looking her way.
I was used to gatherings such as these, but without the brightly dressed noblemen and their ladies in attendance, the black armor of the knights and the dark robes of the mages made the whole affair look and feel like a funeral.
A long, tense silence hung over the room as we all waited for the Sylph Lord to arrive, and I found myself antsy, shifting uncomfortably on the throne’s hard stone seat.
I felt strangely weightless—hungry, perhaps, for I realized I hadn’t had any breakfast. But the poison in my system was receding.
I felt less on the verge of death and more simply drained, like some poor sea creature washed onto a beach and left flaccid when the tide receded.
The worst pain now was between my legs, where it still burned from the poison and from the friction of the bydrune—but I turned my thoughts away from that.
I’d done what I had to do.
In a few hours, I’d have my crown.
A dream come true.
Others had suffered more to attain less.
And yet, why did I feel this emptiness? This ache in my bones?
I thought of Charlie, again—of the look on his face as I’d sent him away.
I would never have responded like that if he’d entered at any other moment, but to walk in on the bydrune?
To witness Braimar hovering over me? It had been too much.
I’d lashed out. Now, I wanted nothing more than to run out of here, climb on Othura’s back, and track him down.
To bring him back and have him by my side.
But the gods only knew where he was now. Or if he’d ever want to see my face again…
There came a great thud as the guards at the far end of the room thumped the butts of their spears on the floor, jarring me from my thoughts. They began hauling open the room’s heavy doors as trumpets blared a fanfare.
“The Sylph Lord and his illustrious entourage,” a herald called as the doors were pulled wide.
A deeper hush stole over the room as the procession began making its way down the blue-carpeted aisle.
I sat up straighter and craned my neck, eager to finally see, in person, this world-renowned figure I’d heard about since I was a child, a leader who dominated the entire southern hemisphere of our world. A true kingmaker.
The procession moved toward me at a smooth, steady gait, and the sight of the foremost figure—who I guessed must be the Sylph Lord—made the breath catch in my throat.
He was tall—more than seven spans, certainly, and his build looked willowy despite the bulk of his clothing.
He wore robes of rich burgundy velvet studded with diamonds in an uneven pattern that seemed, at a glance, to mirror the constellations.
He wore a helmet of some sort with an elaborate plume, and a veil hung from the front of it, which glittered like a waterfall of stars and covered his face completely.
A cloak spread out to form a long train behind him, long and black as an evening shadow.
Even the Lord’s hands were covered. He wore gray leather gloves.
The fingers looked as if they had too many joints, like the legs of spiders, and they glittered with many rings, a fashion that reminded me unpleasantly of Prelate Kortoi.
The figure neared the foot of the dais and stopped, but he did not bow. In fact, he cut such a formidable figure that I nearly stood and bowed to him. I might have done it—if my crotch hadn’t felt like it was on fire.
“Welcome to the court of Maethalia,” I said, trying my best to sound queenly, as my mother would have. “We are honored by your presence.”
The Sylph Lord neither moved nor responded.
I glanced beyond him, taking in, for the first time, his entourage.
They were many, a column standing ten abreast that ran the entire length of the hall and out the doors.
Several dozen of them at the front of the column were also Sylph.
They were veiled, willowy, and tall—though none quite as tall as the Sylph Lord himself.
Behind them stood perhaps two dozen human men.
They stood shorter than the Sylph, but were still tall and lean.
Instead of shirts, they wore bandoliers, plates of armor on their shoulders, and bracers on their forearms, and they wore both swords and guns at their waists.
Each man’s physique was exquisite, a tapestry of abs and pecks and veins.
Upon closer inspection, I saw the irises of their eyes were lavender.
And when one of them sneered, he showed off a row of sharklike teeth.
Goblins, I thought with distaste.
Beyond the goblin guard were more warriors—a column on the left wore armor of silver and a column on the right wore armor of gold. The ones in gold were female, the ones in silver male. But the extraordinary thing was that all the men had the same face and all the women had the same face.
Clones.
This was like a storybook unfolding before me. All my life I’d heard of Sylph, and the clones and goblins that made up their storied armies, but I’d never seen any of them in person. It was incredible. And a little frightening—for the might of the Sylph Lord’s warriors were legendary.
One of the Sylph standing next to the Lord stepped forward.
“The Lord says he is grateful for your reception and eager to celebrate your coronation with you,” the veiled figure said in a smooth, feminine voice. “Afterward, there will be much to discuss about how our two nations can work together to further our common interests.”
“Of course,” I said. “I thank you for making the journey to be with us. We are honored by your presence.”
The eerily tall figure of the Lord turned and gave a small nod toward Kortoi.
“The Lord also wishes to acknowledge the presence of Prelate Kortoi. He has ever been a friend to our nation, and we thank him for facilitating this meeting.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” the Prelate said with a self-satisfied smile.
“We would love to offer you food and drink,” I said. “Tell me, how many are with you so that we may prepare the feast?”
This, of course, was me trying to be clever and get them to reveal how many warriors they’d brought to our shores. The attendant hesitated, though I could not see their expression beneath their veil.
“The Lord thanks you,” the speaker said after a moment. “But no provisions will be necessary. We will see you at the coronation.”
With that, the Sylph Lord turned around. His entire entourage stepped in perfect unison, parting down the center and allowing him to walk through their midst, back toward the door. His attendants and warriors fell in behind him, streaming out of the hall.
Ollie drifted to my side, cracking his knuckles nervously as he watched them depart.
“Well, he’s certainly…” he started, then paused, searching for the correct word.
“Ominous,” I finished.
“I was going to say tall,” Ollie said. “But yes, ominous, too...”
The last of the Koratainians disappeared, and the doors shut behind them like a peal of thunder.