3. The Queen’s Rite
The Queen’s Rite
T he Jarlum submitted a formal petition for a conclave as soon as our group returned to the Citadel.
Considering what happened right outside the city walls, I couldn’t necessarily blame them.
Thankfully, all four of them survived the attack, and Lukas as well.
The same could not be said for their guard.
Too many had been lost, and those that survived owed their lives to Corbyn. The thought sent a shiver of uncertainty down my spine.
After I’d been seen by a healer and eaten, I responded to their petition. The cut on my forehead wasn’t too bad, but I refused to show up to my first conclave with an empty belly. The runner bearing my message scurried out of my receiving room.
From his place in front of the hearth, Lenn grumbled deep in his barrel chest. “Those damned fools,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “You should rest. All of you.”
I tilted my head in his direction, shifting in my high-backed chair.
This room wasn’t overly large, unlike the receiving room attached to the queen’s chambers.
I hadn’t found the time to establish myself there yet.
But Lenn didn’t seem to mind. Out of everyone, he was the only one who’d insisted I be given time to adjust.
“It’s alright, Lenn,” I breathed. He glanced over at me, letting out a small harrumph. “We need to speak before the delegation arrives tomorrow, and after what happened tonight… I’m sure they’ll have more than a few choice words for me. Were any of them hurt?”
“Nothing serious.” He grumbled something else I couldn’t hear.
Shame crept up my chest, lodging there like a stone. “It’s my fault we were attacked.” If I’d only been able to hang on to the Shadow’s power, and kept that circle of light intact?—
“Bite your tongue, child.”
I looked up sharply at his harsh tone, some unnamed emotion bubbling in my chest. Slowly, and with a fair amount of effort, I rose to my feet.
“It was,” I repeated, hands balling into fists.
“I’m the one who spent too long at the Burning Fields because of my own gods-damned sentimentality.
I’m the one who couldn’t control this… power and nearly got us all killed!
The light—I lost it.” The Shadow bristled, a sort of prickle spreading across my consciousness.
Lenn looked down at me with apparent remorse. “And I am not a child, Thane.”
At the way he flinched, my shoulders instantly relaxed, fists uncurling.
My legs gave way and I sank back into the chair, one hand coming up to rub at the cut above my temple.
It wasn’t deep at all, but it still stung, and there was an incessant ache behind my eyes.
Be it from the blow to my head or my inability to contain the Shadow, I couldn't be certain.
I released a sigh. “I’m sorry, Lenn.”
He shook his head quickly. “No, I am sorry,” he replied, sinking to his knees at my side. One hand rested lightly on my knee. “You're the queen now, and I, your humble servant. I shouldn't have spoken out of turn.”
My own hand reached out to grasp his. “Thane Lenn Reijason,” I said, gripping his hand a little tighter. His gaze flicked up to my face, as if to avoid looking directly in my eyes. I took a deep breath before continuing. “How many years have I known you?”
He gave a soft smile. “More than a few.”
“I meant no disrespect. You’ve been more of a father to me than my own, by all accounts.
And I will thank you to keep telling me when I’m being a stubborn ass.
But the fact of the matter remains…” He finally looked me in the eye, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“This was my fault. I could have done many things differently today. And because I didn’t, good men and women lost their lives.
” My voice sounded strong to my own ears, but my hands began to tremble.
“Perhaps. But more were saved by your actions than those we lost. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Your Majesty.”
If only that were true.
He rose to his feet and offered me his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
Gratefully, I took hold. The fall from the horse had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit. We crossed the room and he drew the door open, ushering me out first.
In the corridor, he stood next to the door, gazing placidly ahead. I couldn’t help it. I found myself staring, brows knitted together in scrutiny.
Corbyn Arlbright seemed, at first glance, like any other man.
His plate armor—carefully crafted to imitate reptilian scales—gleamed brightly in the torchlight.
A nondescript sword hung at his hip, secured in its leather sheath, and his cloak of shocking scarlet flowed from black-enamel epaulets.
He was not overly tall, but he still stood a head taller than me.
His hair was a deep red shade, and his eyes were so dark they could almost be black.
But Corbyn Arlbright was not like any other man. He wasn’t even a man in the strictest sense. The denizens of AEldin were not like us—not like anyone.
Whereas the magic of Volmere—the powerthreads belonging to the four Clans—came from the gods, no one knew where the AEldinians’ powers originated.
They were Shifters, able to change into various kinds of beasts at will.
The raven that came to the Burning Fields was one, a messenger and errand runner.
But the dragons were the strongest and most numerous amongst them; the most cunning and vilest creatures, if the stories were to be believed.
A thousand years ago, their kind found pleasure in slaughtering humans, nearly decimating our race.
Everything changed with the Drakon War, but even after all this time, it was hard not to see the Shifters as our enemies.
If not for my ancestor and the Shadow, the AEldinians might have annihilated us long ago.
This history of hatred and war crackled between us as I scrutinized the Talon before me. To his credit, he did not wither under my stare.
“Your Majesty,” he said with a voice like stone.
Though my mind screamed at me to remember the danger this man presented, my heart, the damnable thing, reminded me that he saved our lives. And yet…
“You left, Talon Arlbright.”
The thought had been plaguing me since we came in from the snow. Yes, Corbyn had driven off the myrkva , but if he’d been there to begin with, things might have turned out differently.
He stared placidly back at me, his square jaw tensed. “I did.”
The Shadow hissed as I asked, “Why?”
Lenn shifted behind me with a soft grumble. I knew he didn’t like keeping the Jarlum waiting, but I wouldn’t let this slide. Corbyn narrowed his obsidian gaze on me. But then, he bowed at the waist.
“Apologies, my lady,” he murmured. “I was angry.”
Angry… Did he even know the meaning of the word?
“About what?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He straightened back up to his full height, gazing down the long line of his nose with thinly veiled disdain. “Your callous comments regarding me and my kinsmen, if you must know.”
I bristled, remembering the feckless words I’d said to Lenn. Two replacements… I supposed he thought he was proving a point by leaving us behind. A point that ended up costing twelve people their lives. Still my fault, for losing control and for provoking the dragon in front of me.
The dragon who’d come back anyways.
Though maybe it had been a ploy meant to throw us off his scent. Without the authorization to question him about his role in my mother’s death, I could only speculate.
My voice lodged in my throat, stopped by the laws of the treaty between our two nations. What would I ask him about that night, if given the opportunity? Would he even care what I had to say? Or would he simply stand stoically by, like he’d done all the years I’d known him?
I was but a girl of eight when Corbyn arrived in Kjarra.
Every twenty years, a new Talon arrived from AEldin, bound by the treaty.
I was even younger when Grantis came to serve the queen.
By my reckoning, he’d had less than a year before he could go home, had his life not been cut short.
As for Corbyn, I had a little while yet to endure his presence.
Only five more years with this bastard.
The thought brought me little pleasure. I’d suffer a hundred more years of his silent indifference if it meant my mother could live.
Lenn’s comforting presence at my back helped me turn away, biting down on the things I’d like to say to the Talon. With the delegation arriving tomorrow, it wasn’t the best idea to break the law now. I’d waited a week; I could withstand one more night.
I was careful to keep my back straight as we walked, Corbyn following behind Lenn on our trek down the corridor.
Every footstep echoed off the stone walls, a cacophony of sound that set my rattled nerves further on edge.
The Talon’s sword sheath bounced off the plate covering his thighs.
Lenn’s furs rustled against one another as he adjusted the leather vambraces he always wore.
My cape swished behind me where it dragged on the flagstone floor.
It was all like an iron strike dragging against stone.
Steady. It was the first word the Shadow had spoken in hours, seemingly as exhausted from our ordeal as I was. A fuzzy sort of warmth spread its way through my chest, thawing the chill in my bones.
Well, that was… different. I shifted my shoulders at the unfamiliar sensation.
Just trying to help, she grumbled back.
Some of that warmth ebbed away, and I cursed myself for even saying anything.
Sorry, I said sheepishly. She made no reply.
A twinge of guilt pinched in my chest. There was so little I knew about her, and she about me, but there hadn’t been much time for us to get acquainted. I kept having to remind myself: she’d lost my mother just the same as I had.
The door to the council chamber appeared around the next bend in the corridor.
Four guards stood in the hall, two on either side, each of them wearing the colors of their own Clan.
I heard the Jarlum beyond the solid oak of the iron-banded door.
They shuffled about, muttering amongst themselves and their Thanes.
Drawing in a deep breath, I forced my shoulders back and held my head high. Lenn had suggested I don the Erling crown for this occasion. The comforting weight of the polished black steel on my brow made me glad I’d listened.
As the door swung open, every eye within turned to stare, all previous conversations forgotten.
Slowly, I strode into the room with Lenn right behind me.
Corbyn remained in the corridor as the door boomed shut.
He knew he was not welcome at meetings about matters of state.
Though there was a tenuous peace between our people, it didn’t border anything close to friendship.
As I entered, the gathered Thanes, including Lenn, made their way to the circular table in the middle of the room. They pulled out the five tall-backed, wooden chairs. Four for the Jarl or Jarla of each clan, and one for the High Queen.
My chair sat on the side that had me facing the door, my back to the enormous wall of paned windows overlooking the riding paddock.
Lenn pulled out my chair—a little taller than the other four with a wooden carving of a hawk mid-flight at the top.
The bird was the symbol of our house, proud and exacting—much like the many women who’d held the power of the Shadow.
I slid into the seat as gracefully as I could, but the ache in my legs made it difficult to lower myself without floundering.
Once I was settled, the others took their seats.
Freya Anja, of Clan Kjaer, and Freya Vilke, of Clan ?asgrin, took their chairs first, as the honor was afforded them after me.
Freyr Ingvar of Clan Riis sat next, huffing out some muttered annoyance.
Lastly, Freyr Reynar of Clan Ylfring took his seat, the bear that was his sigil displayed proudly on the breast of his dark blue doublet.
I looked them all in the eye, one by one.
Anja, always gentle, offered me a warm smile that crinkled the edges of her moss-colored eyes.
Vilke had always been kind to me too, in her own tough sort of way.
Her iron gray hair was pulled back into a severe knot, but her dark eyes appraised me without a hint of reproach.
Ingvar seemed too concerned with the fraying edge of his white surcoat to pay me any mind. I cleared my throat pointedly, drawing his gaze, and gave him a slight nod. He understood, subtly drawing a hand across his chest to activate his powerthread and then extending his arm out in front of him.
As Freyr Ingvar moved his hand in a back-and-forth pattern, the air around us was covered by an invisible veil, shielding the room from any listening ears.
When that was done, I settled my gaze on Freyr Reynar. His balled fist was pressed against his mouth, obscuring most of his face. But eyes the color of ice cut through me from across the table, watching intently. I couldn’t be sure if it was contempt or curiosity I saw there.
From her corner in the recesses of my mind, the Shadow prodded. I placed my hands on the wooden surface of the table with as much surety as I could muster.
“Well then,” I said, willing iron into my voice, “shall we begin?”