40. Forty
forty
"I really don't think you should speak to this thing again," Erqis hissed around the mirror's frame, the carved filigree digging into his palms.
Qavor gripped the other side, looking equally uncomfortable. "Shut up, I'm sure it can hear you. Gods, I swear this thing weighs ten times more than it did before."
They had both adopted a harsh whisper – while their cheeks were pressed against the gilded frame, mere inches from the glass, which they were very careful not to touch at all.
Neira found herself grinning. Strings was winding around her feet and she scooped him up so neither of the men would accidentally trip over the cat as they made their way out of the throne room.
It had been a unanimous decision to banish the mirror into a place less public, less… accessible. To Erqis and Qavor’s relief – or horror, or equal parts of both – the mirror was quiet, as if the entity was watching – or sleeping. No ripple of amusement, no lash of displeasure.
Neira had made sure to ask the entity for its cooperation before moving it, but she hadn’t shared that with her husband. And she would have carried it herself, if with the new frame it had adopted hadn’t come a larger size as well, likely to fit the throne room’s décor.
She wouldn’t put it past the mirror to make itself more heavy for just this short trip, either.
"You'll have to hang it, though. And someone needs to dust the room, clean the windows regularly. We don't want to be disrespectful." The room beyond the vault had always been perfectly clean.
With the mirror being relocated to a more private location, and one more easily accessible to her, there would be time enough in her future now for more conversations with the entity – whether Erqis like it or not – and the thing Neira wanted most ardently to find out was everything about her mother. How had she even found the vault? Was it something that all would be queens were drawn or led to?
What had her mother been like? Who was Neira’s real father?
With the right questions, Neira was sure she would receive answers. And if they were hurtful, she would get over that… with Erqis' help. She glanced at him as inconspicuously as possible, the way his brawny biceps strained under the sleeves of his plain shirt, how his brassy curls stuck to his temples with exertion. Her pulse picked up.
She hadn't returned his confession, not that afternoon in their bedroom, nor in the days since. Her very soul felt bruised after everything that had happened, everything she had learned, and while her maids had served her with devotion she had never missed Safir more than in these past few days. While she hadn’t seen her when she had looked in on Ramin, Neira was certain the maid was never far from her young charge.
She would have to make a new friend, Neira thought, pressing a kiss to the top of the purring kitten's head.
For the first time in a long while, she had hope for the future. It was a tentative little spark, a mere seedling, but she was willing to nurture it. Neira still felt fragile most days, but curiously never more so than when Erqis kissed her forehead in the mornings before sliding out of bed just a breath after the sun rose – granted, that moment arrived later and later each day that winter drew nearer, but that didn't lessen her longing for… something .
There was something unspoken still between them, and she had been too cowardly to address it yet.
She had raged and hissed when Erqis had told her about Huldra's letter. She had posed the suggestion that perhaps Ramin was a private guest of the king, and not even the officiars knew about him, unlikely as the idea was. But the only other explanation – that the elven king of the Glacier Throne was keeping the prince hostage and she was being lied to – kindled the flames of rage deep in her belly, and she wasn't yet ready to accept it as truth.
She had seen Ramin in the mirror that night, sleeping in a room that unmistakably had to have been in Huldra's palace. That couldn't have been an illusion.
It was a simple misunderstanding, one she was eager to right.
That was her hope, anyway.
One step at a time. And right now, that step was into the small, forgotten parlour that would be the mirror’s new home. It was freshly cleaned and furnished with only a cushioned bench, empty bookshelves, and a dark fireplace with a narrow window directly across from the door.
The three of them watched with trepidation as, once hung, the mirror warped before their very eyes: the extensively gilded, flamboyant reliefs that had fit so well into the throne hall curved now into a long oval, the frame narrowing and darkening into a deep green that matched the bench's cushion. A single ripple ran across the glass surface.
"Thank you, Majesty. As riveting as court proceedings are, I do prefer the peace and quiet."
"Absolutely not." Qavor beelined for the door the moment that cold, pleasant voice filled the room.
Erqis glanced longingly after his brother, but remained by the queen's side.
Neira took a seat on the bench, which had been placed to face the mirror. Pale sunlight filtered into the room behind her. She rested her hands on the low, curled armrests to either side, her spine straight and tense.
But her shoulders were relaxed. Her nails were not digging into the faded velvet. She was alert, but not anxious.
It was a new sensation. Neira couldn't help but enjoy this development. Erqis stood behind her, his arms crossed casually. The dark glass offered them no reflection, but Neira knew what a striking image they struck. She had chosen a fine dress, deep blue velvet with a trim of pure white fur along the seams where long sleeves had been sown to the bodice, her hair neatly braided around her head like a crown. Behind her, Erqis needed nothing more than the bright gleam of his eyes and the darkness of his scowl to look intimidating.
"I must speak with Huldra. Can you show me the king?"
Cool amusement radiated from the mirror. "Is that a good idea, Majesty?"
"I did not ask for your opinion." Neira kept her voice pleasant but firm. She would not budge on this. "I need to speak with the Glacier Throne. Show me King Sorloq."
"Very well." The entity fell silent. It took a moment, a curiously long stretch of time, and then the glass brightened.
The light streaming in from the wall of windows was bright and glaring, the land beyond nothing but ice and snow glittering harshly under the sun. A man sat behind a desk, his long white hair tied back to expose pointed ears. He looked no older than Neira, despite the fact that he had been close allies with her father, long decades before she had even been born. Her view of him was as if she sat in front of his desk and, were the elven king to look up, it would appear the same to him. As it was, he had his head bent over correspondence, the quiet scratches of his quill filling the space between them.
Neira canted her head, allowing her gaze to sweep the room. Nothing spoke of children there – neither Ramin nor a wayward infant princess, but then again, he wouldn't keep them in his private study.
"Your Majesty."
Sorloq started, dropping his quill. His eyes were wide, and as crystal blue as his frozen lakes. "What-"
"A simple spell," Neira offered with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't be alarmed. I had hoped to contact you sooner, but it seems current events have made sending letters quite impossible."
The elven king quickly recomposed himself, the shock on his handsome face replaced with pleasant concern. "Princess Neira. Forgive me. This is… quite the unusual visit."
"Queen."
Sorloq's eyes flickered to the tall figure behind her. "Pardon?"
"My wife is queen of Malvea."
"Indeed. My apologies." It was entirely uncertain whether the news of her wedding had even reached the realms across the sea yet, concerned with their own troubles as they were, or whether Sorloq meant to disrespect her as she had, no doubt, disrespected him by simply dropping into his study unannounced and uninvited.
The implications, of course, quite plainly spelled out that she could do this whenever and wherever she pleased.
"What can I do for you, your Majesty?" Beneath Sorloq's pleasant front, Neira could see the tension. The wariness. It pleased her more than she would have thought – to be regarded with such suspicion. With such dread .
Fitting for a Dread Queen.
Neira smiled. "Some weeks ago, I sent Prince Ramin into your care. I'd like to see him returned, now that the tensions between Brightmere and Duskport have been resolved."
"Prince Ramin, your Majesty?" Something glittered in Sorloq's frosty eyes, yet his mild expression never changed. The man was centuries old; certainly he had learned the art of deception. "I'm afraid I have no idea where the boy might be, unfortunately. He never arrived at my shores."
"Nonsense." The blatant lie burned. If Sorloq thought he could toy with her – but no. The elven king was smarter than that. With war on his doorstep, surely he didn't think he could hold armies off on two fronts.
No, he was playing a cleverer game than that. Sorloq, no doubt, didn't think Erqis would go to war over a dead king's heir when he had already married that heir's sister and could just make some of his own. Malvea wasn't yet fully subdued, either. Holding on to Brightmere's crown prince until the playing field had been levelled was a smart move.
"I would not lie to my old friend's beloved daughter, Neira. I heard of his passing with sympathy, and more than a little concern for you and the prince… but you seem to be doing well." He glanced at Erqis again, who curled his fingers around the curve between Neira's neck and shoulder. "It would be a tragedy if the prince had come to harm on his journey here."
"Indeed." It took everything she had to force her expression into gentle grief instead of the spitting wrath she wanted to throw at the filthy liar. "We will send out scouts across the realms, then. He must be somewhere."
"Try Green Harbour," Sorloq offered, a little too quickly. "All ships pass through Green Harbour."
"So they do." Neira leaned back, just slightly, just until she could feel Erqis' warmth at her back. His fingers squeezed her gently in support.
"How fare you? I must admit, it was a surprise to hear of your wedding to your father's murderer. I'd love to hear that story."
"And I would love to tell you," Erqis swooped in smoothly. He stepped around the bench and tugged Neira up so he could sit, then pull her onto his lap. With his arm wrapped around her waist, they were sitting so much like the first time they had met that Neira couldn't stop the flush crawling up her neck. "I would have loved to never set foot in those damned marshes, but as you well know, the princess of that cursed land was such a beauty, I couldn't resist taking a peek for myself. The fairest in all the land! Why, it was love at first stab."
Neira dug her elbow into his ribs, but the way Sorloq was staring at them – slack-jawed, stunned that Erqis was openly mocking him, because that was exactly what this was – made the game worth it.
"I'm sorry, at first stab ?"
"You should have seen her. The men who had lied to her stood no chance. It was glorious." Erqis' grin stretched, making his teeth seem too sharp. Neira recognised it as the threat it was, and a quick glance into the mirror confirmed that Sorloq did as well.
"They do not call you the smiling menace for nothing, I see."
"Is that what they call me? I had no idea. In my vicinity, you see, they call me your Majesty. The Grey King. Do you know why?"
The ancient elven king of the Glacier Throne released a deep, slow breath, as if he was being forced to humour a toddler. Neira would have empathised if it had been anyone else.
"Why."
Dark smoke curled from the edges of Erqis' grin. "Grey is the colour of ash. Which is all that remains when I am done with my enemies."
Sorloq shot up from his seat, his composure at last fraying. "You insolent child. You dare threaten me? I will bury your lands under ice miles thick. Your cities will crumble into nothing . There won't be a soul left alive when I am done with you!"
"They don't need to be alive." Neira raised her hand to show the pale green magic winding its tendrils around her pale fingers, along her wrist. "I believe you know well the truth and depths of my father's magic, Sorloq."
The elf paled, all rage bleeding out of him. "It’s not possible."
"And yet…" Neira let the tendrils dissipate, a show of might far calmer than she felt. "I thank you for your concern over my well-being, even though you didn't bother reaching out yourself, and the information about my brother. I expect your support going forward, including a thorough search of your realm for his whereabouts."
"I didn't offer-"
Sorloq was still shouting when the mirror turned dark.
"Why didn't you tell him that we know he's lying?" Erqis asked as they made their way back to the royal wing by way of the servant passages, so they could avoid any over-eager nobles who might have been trawling through the main halls, hoping for a kinder audit outcome.
Neira tucked her shaking hands into the folds of her skirt, pretending to lift them so they could walk quicker. If Erqis noticed her deception, he didn't say anything. Nor had he said anything when Neira had thanked the mirror for the favour, drew the curtains, and then locked the door from the outside, needing several attempts to get the key in the lock.
"And then what? I will play this game the way it has to be played."
"By dragging it out needlessly?"
She drew up short, turning to him. There was no one in this narrow corridor with them, but she lowered her voice to a hiss regardless. The walls of Brightmere had always had ears – she was certain Duskport suffered from the same affliction.
"By not showing our hand, Erqis. You provoked him enough. Do you want war on our hands? With the one tentative ally we have across the sea? Neither you nor I have connections to Hertha, and Green Harbour allies with no one. Give them one reason to turn on us and the realms of Malvea will take their lead, Woodhaven first among them."
"I don't care."
"You want to claim the entire continent, but you do not care if they rise against you?"
"Let them rise," he growled back, grabbing her shoulders. "I care about you . I care about your heart, and I hate that it's hurting. And if there is anything I can do to soothe your pain, anything at all… I will. Including starting a war with some old, frosty prick."
"You can't mean that."
"Why not? No, listen to me," he interrupted when she opened her mouth to reply. "Fuck Huldra. And if Malvea wants to rise up? They couldn’t stand against me the first time, and they will not be able to stand against me with you at my side. And I would be very happy to make Woodhaven in its entirety an example of how powerful you are. If I have to cripple one realm to make the others remember why they fell in line, fine, so be it. Our reputation alone after that would be enough to keep Malvea safe, from the inside as well as the outside. Do you realise that?"
"I don't know if I want them to think of me like that."
His face softened. He cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb stroking under her eye. "It's better to be feared than to be loved, darling. Trust me."
"You don't know that."
"I do know that. I live it every day."
She searched his face, his eyes, for any kind of deception, but no… Erqis truly believed it. He wasn't trying to manipulate her, wasn't eagerly waiting for her to take a wrong step so he could sacrifice her in the name of the greater good.
No. This man would burn the world to the ground for no other reason than to let the inferno warm her hands.
"I don't want them to hate me." The words were whisper-soft in the space between them, and that was the core of it.
"Fear is not the same thing as hate." Erqis pulled her into his arms, and she wound hers around his waist, her cheek over his heart. A comfortable, safe, familiar position. She could already feel her pulse slowing.
It still made her wary that he had such an effect on her sometimes.
"They can love and respect you while fearing what you may do if you are wronged, Neira. Because if they know that, they'll know you will use this darkness to protect them when the time comes. Do you understand?"
She did. Neira sighed, burying her face against his shirt. "You're not supposed to make such sense." She felt his chuckle more than she heard it.
"You did well today. I truly mean that."
"I didn't tell him," she said haltingly, fingers curling in his shirt, "because the visit was an affront already – if he knows I can spy on everyone, he'll do everything in his power to destroy that. Destroy me. Malvea would not be safe from his wrath, either." A soft pause. "Or you."
Erqis snorted. "Especially if he's really behind that kidnapping."
"What kidnapping?"
"The Heather Throne recently had a princess and, days after the birth, she vanished." He flicked his fingers for effect. “Just like that.”
"Who kidnaps a baby ?"
"Right?" Erqis draped his arm over her shoulders and turned them down the corridor that would lead back to their rooms. "I wonder what he'd want with her."
"Well, as far as I know, he doesn't have heirs. Which is odd, for such an old man. But surely it's easier to find a lover than to raise your enemy's daughter." Neira shook her head.
"Maybe we should get one ourselves, start a collection. The Heather Throne has so many they won't even notice one more missing."
"Gods below, Erqis."