Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Scarlett
Most princesses were given clothes or jewels for their birthday. I was given a country.
I traced the map of Kalure with curious fingers. It was an imposing mass of land that extended across the top of the continent, split in two by the Archasian mountains. I was familiar with the eastern side, its snow-covered forests fringing the Kalurian palace and capital city of Taiga. My eyes drifted up to the smaller city of Fr?r, just below the Frozen Wastes – but I was far more interested in the mysterious region to the west, where my father had lost an entire regiment last month. On that half of the map, there was nothing except two words: The Wilds.
‘Why isn’t it properly labelled?’ I asked.
Governor Halvor looked over from the window, where he was surveying the palace grounds. The afternoon sunlight played across his structured velvet tunic, emphasising his strong shoulders and trim waist. ‘Before the invasion,’ he replied, crossing to the long wooden table in the centre of the room, ‘our borders were closed to outsiders. Your people must not have updated it since then.’
His word choice grated, as it was no doubt supposed to. My great-great-grandfather had once ruled Kalure – until King Ravalis had been slaughtered by his own people, who had pledged their allegiance to the Sorceress and her descendants. It was the reason we had ended up here, in the prosperous Eastern Lands of Aqualis, which King Ravalis’s son had renamed Ravalia in honour of his murdered father. Ravalia – the perfect name for a new country, a new empire , but one that would never forget it was forged from blood and betrayal.
‘Perhaps you can help us fill in the map,’ I couldn’t resist saying, ‘as a demonstration of good faith. After all, we’re hardly outsiders now.’
If Governor Halvor took offence at that remark, he covered it well. Only the slightest trace of tension in his face betrayed any sort of reaction.
‘What exactly is in the Wilds, anyway?’ I asked, rolling up the map and striding out of the receiving room. ‘Those forests must conceal something important, or my father wouldn’t be so intent on conquering them.’
‘They’re ancient lands,’ Halvor replied tersely, hurrying to keep up with me. ‘Ones we rarely venture into.’
An evasive response, but I didn’t push further. I couldn’t afford to upset my father by starting a diplomatic incident, and it wouldn’t look good if my first order of business was to dismiss the governor.
‘It’s quite different to the Kalurian palace, isn’t it?’ I said, as Governor Halvor slowed to admire the polished marble floors and soaring ceilings, inlaid with vibrant tessellated tiles.
‘It didn’t used to be,’ Halvor murmured, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear the words.
I frowned as I took in the white-and-gold expanse around me. The Ravalian palace was light and airy, built around a series of open water gardens. It was nothing like the austere grey fortress in Kalure – but I supposed I’d never seen the original palace, before my father had ordered it rebuilt. Either way, I couldn’t imagine it being as spectacular as this: four imposing storeys filled with hundreds of rooms and a subterranean level for the servants.
‘And your people?’ I asked as we made our way through the grounds. ‘What are they like?’
‘Fierce,’ the governor said, with no small amount of pride. ‘Fierce and loyal.’
I cast him a sideways glance, wondering whether his comment was a subtle threat.
‘I trust the Kalurians will demonstrate that loyalty in service to the empire,’ I said pointedly.
The words tasted bitter in my mouth; they were my father’s, not mine. But it was important to remind the governor exactly who controlled Kalure – and who didn’t.
We entered the greenhouse and I closed my eyes, basking in the humidity. Since Roran’s attempt to drown me, it was rare for me to feel warm. Sometimes I wondered if I was as cold-blooded as the reptiles that lived here.
My companion walked beneath a dangling tree snake, its yellow eyes fixed on his head. I brushed it aside as I followed, watching him reach towards a luminous flower with a red mouth.
‘Careful,’ I called. ‘She bites.’
The governor retreated to a safer distance, but his eyes remained on the carnivorous plants, taking in their bright colours and striking patterns. ‘What a fascinating place.’
Most visitors found the greenhouse intimidating; that was precisely the reason I’d taken him here. If I’d known he would react like this, I might have opted to bore him with afternoon tea in the royal parlour.
But I merely said, ‘I’m glad you think so.’
Perching on the edge of the bubbling stone fountain, I studied Governor Halvor. He wasn’t unattractive, with a chiselled jawline and discerning grey eyes. Even the faint streaks of silver in his dark blond hair gave him a distinguished appeal. But he was no match for Severin, and his conversational skills were barely adequate. Which meant that spending an entire afternoon with him – country or no country – was beginning to irritate me.
‘You’ve seen most of the palace by now,’ I said, trying to keep the boredom from my voice. ‘Shall we retire after this? Or is there another reason you specifically requested my presence?’
‘My, you’re blunt,’ he said. ‘I had hoped the rumours were exaggerated.’
‘Well, they’re not,’ I said, with a cool smile. ‘What else do people say?’
‘They speak of your intelligence. And your rare beauty.’ His eyes softened as they lingered on my face, but his tone was begrudging. I wondered if he thought of me like one of these plants – alluring on the outside and deadly within.
My smile widened, and this time, it was sincere. ‘You really don’t like me, do you?’ He started to reply, but I spoke before he could. ‘Don’t bother trying to deny it. If our circumstances were reversed, I wouldn’t like you either.’
Though I doubted I would have been sitting here in his place, politely interacting with my enemy. That was the difference between us; he was willing to do whatever it took to survive, even if it meant losing his standing in the process. I wasn’t.
‘What are you thinking about?’ His voice held a thin note of anxiety; most likely, he was worried he had offended me and hoped to steer the conversation towards safer topics.
Perhaps it was cruel of me, but—
‘I’m wondering why you haven’t mentioned her yet. My mother.’
He predictably stiffened. In retaliation for her exile from Kalure, my mother had created the Ravalian Orders: the Warriors to physically overpower Emperor Kalias’s enemies, the Artisans to assist with strategy, and the Masks, a group of women trained to infiltrate and destroy kingdoms. It was thanks to Zandri’s operatives that the Kalurian king had been assassinated – and my father had retaken Kalure.
‘Most people tend to avoid uncomfortable topics,’ the governor said. ‘Yet you seem to delight in bringing them up.’
‘I don’t shy away from anything – unpleasant or otherwise.’ When he didn’t respond, I asked, ‘Why did your king banish Zandri, anyway?’
‘Perhaps you should ask your mother that question.’
I gave him a long, displeased look. Zandri had a notoriously short temper, particularly where Kalure was concerned. She had discarded her birth name when she arrived in the Ravalian Court – and her past had been discarded along with it.
‘Perhaps you can tell me instead,’ I said, the order clear.
Governor Halvor’s jaw tightened, and I could have sworn his eyes flashed as they met mine.
I held his stare with renewed interest. Defiance was something I could understand – respect, even. But like my father, I intended to rule with an expectation of absolute obedience. Which meant the governor would have to get used to obeying my commands.
‘It had something to do with Queen Rúna’s death, didn’t it?’
I knew I was right when the governor’s expression twisted. Loathing was an emotion I recognised well. I’d seen it on my mother’s face enough times.
But Governor Halvor’s voice was measured as he replied, ‘After ascending to the throne, Queen Rúna made it illegal to practise or worship blood magic. She considered it perverted and evil, a sickness infecting her court and her daughter, Vanora – as Zandri was known back then.’ He paused for a moment, then continued, ‘The high priestess educated Zandri in secret, and Zandri grew older and more powerful studying the Sorceress’s grimoires. When the queen found out, she discounted a century of matriarchal tradition, promising Zandri’s brother the crown that would have been hers.’
‘And further straining her relationship with the Temple,’ I finished, recalling how reverently Zandri always spoke about blood magic. Even a century after the Sorceress’s disappearance, the Temple still considered it as such: sacred magic passed down to the Sorceress’s female descendants.
‘Exactly,’ Governor Halvor said, his fingers curling around the lip of the stone fountain. ‘The Temple’s retaliation was swift and brutal. They murdered Queen Rúna and her consort in their beds, with the intention of installing Zandri as queen in their place. The second part of their plan was unsuccessful. Once King Arioch was crowned, he banished Zandri from Kalure, forbidding her to return on pain of death.’
I gazed unseeingly across the greenhouse, letting the new information settle over me. I knew my mother was capable of cold decisions. She had come to Ravalia to take revenge against her brother, allying herself with Kalure’s greatest enemy. Even her brief affair with Emperor Kalias had been calculated: she had wanted an heir, a daughter whose blood ran thick with the Sorceress’s power. A daughter who had a claim to both the Ravalian and Kalurian thrones.
But matricide . . . It was one thing knowing that my mother was capable of murder, and quite another to realise she was responsible for the deaths of her entire family – the very public, bloody deaths that had set the Kalurian people against her. And possibly against me, too.
No matter. If the Kalurians couldn’t be won over by diplomacy, they would bend to force.
I would make sure of that.
‘Tell me, Governor,’ I said, brushing off my skirts and standing, ‘what did you think of your king?’
The governor rose to his feet as well, his grey eyes level with mine. ‘King Arioch was a great man,’ he answered unhesitatingly, ‘and an even better ruler. I was honoured to serve him.’
A loyal man, then. He seemed an odd choice for governor, but perhaps my father had believed his appointment would placate the loyalists.
‘And what of me? Will you serve me as loyally as you did him?’
There was something peculiar about the way he looked at me then – as if I had missed a crucial point.
‘Is that what you think?’ Governor Halvor appeared genuinely surprised, and perhaps even amused. ‘That you’re going to rule Kalure in your father’s name?’
I blinked at him. That was exactly what I thought. ‘The emperor promised me Kalure—’
‘He promised you to me ,’ the governor interrupted.
And then he said something I could barely understand, his words almost drowned out by the sudden roaring in my ears—
‘You’re to be my wife.’