“Is that how I’m to be remembered, then?” she asked herself aloud, standing before an open window in her chambers. “As the queen who ruled when nothing happened?” She gave a rueful smile. A fine legacy for the Lioness of the Hills.
She had never thought in such terms before Dalvia’s illness. But watching from afar as her dearest friend wasted away, like a wild beast caged against its will, Olesya had been forced to accept that even queens didn’t live forever. She was young yet—merely in her forty-ninth year—but her own mother had died at fifty-one, her father at fifty-three. She felt fine, but so had Dalvia only a turn or two before the illness struck her.
She shuddered, turning away from the window but leaving it open. Diani’s message had made her think this way. She had tried to put Dalvia out of her mind since the funeral. Naturally she had no intention of ending Yserne’s ties to House Curlinte. The alliance between the two families was nearly as old as the Yserne Dynasty, and the army of House Curlinte had fought to protect the matriarchy on many occasions. Olesya was fond of Sertio and loved Diani almost as she did her own children. She merely wished for some time to mourn her friend, to heal the wound Dalvia’s death had left on her heart.
It seemed, however, that Diani needed her, and who was Olesya to deny the girl the comfort or guidance she sought.
The message from Curlinte had been quite vague and brief, nearly to the point of impropriety. It merely stated that she had already left Curlinte and expected to reach the royal city by the twelfth day of the waxing—today. There was no mention of what she wished to discuss, no request for an audience with the queen, a familiarity even Dalvia would not have allowed herself. Perhaps Olesya should have expected this. Diani was still quite young, and she had always been an impetuous child, though no more so than Olesya’s own daughters. Boys, the queen had decided long ago, were easier to raise than girls. She laughed at the thought, wondering if that were as true in patriarchies.
Notwithstanding her desire to have no dealings with House Curlinte for a time, and the inappropriate tone of Diani’s message, Olesya had spared no effort in preparing the castle for the girl’s arrival. It was to be Diani’s first visit to the royal city as duchess in her own right, and custom dictated that she be received as befitted her new title. She would be met at the city gates by a hundred of Yserne’s soldiers, including men bearing the colors of both houses. Heralds would greet her with the Sanbiri anthem and, of course, the queen herself would welcome her to the city, declaring her guestfriend of all the people of Yserne. There would be a feast this night and a sword tournament among the soldiers of the royal army and whatever men Diani brought with her from Curlinte. Musicians would perform at the feast and in the streets of the city, as would tumblers and Qirsi fire conjurers. To the people of the city, it would almost seem that the Festival had arrived early. Diani, the queen was quite certain, would remember this visit for the rest of her days.
No sooner had she formed the thought than Olesya heard bells ringing from the east gate of the city. Diani’s company was approaching the city walls.
The queen wrapped herself in the royal mantle—blue and red, the colors of Yserne—and placed on her brow the silver circlet worn by Yserne’s queens for more than five centuries. Glancing briefly at her image in the large mirror on her sleeping chamber’s far wall, she stepped to the door and pulled it open, only to find Abeni ja Krenta, her archminister, standing in the corridor, her hand poised to knock.
The Qirsi woman raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Some would say
you have gleaning power, Your Highness. You anticipate my knock before you hear it.”
Olesya gave an indulgent smile. “I merely heard the same bells you did, Abeni.”
The archminister’s eyebrows went up in feigned innocence. “Were there bells? I didn’t hear them.”
“Come along,” the queen said, still smiling as she started down the corridor. Abeni quickly fell in step beside her, smoothing her ministerial robes with a white hand. “I take it all is ready for Diani’s arrival.”
“Yes, Your Highness. The kitchenmaster is complaining that the cellarmaster has chosen the wrong wine for the feast tonight, but I’ve spoken with them both and made it clear that they’re to have the matter settled before the duchess sets foot in the castle.”
“I imagine they have their swords drawn as we speak.”
Abeni gave a small laugh. “No doubt, Your Highness.”
They emerged from the castle at the base of the queen’s tower and crossed through the vast network of gates and wards that guarded the fortress from would-be invaders. At the outermost gate, they were joined by eight soldiers who arrayed themselves around the queen, the silver hilts of their blades gleaming in the sunlight. From the castle gate, the queen and her escort followed a winding lane down toward the city. It was lined with people who had set aside their chores and business to greet Curlinte’s duchess, and seeing the queen, they cheered loudly.
Before they reached the entrance to the city, Olesya heard the first strains of Sanbiri’s anthem echo off the castle walls. Diani’s company had reached the city gate, and the queen would do the same just as the anthem ended.
Olesya glanced at Abeni and favored her with a smile. “You planned this well, Archminister. You’re to be commended.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. It was nothing.”
As the last strains of the anthem died away, Olesya stepped through the city gate with Abeni just behind her. The soldiers of Yserne stood to the side of the road, their blades raised in salute, their blue-and-red uniforms as bright as new blooms. But Olesya could not take her eyes off the duchess. Diani sat on her great bay, her face white and covered with sweat, though the day was cool. Sertio, her father, was beside her atop a grey stallion, his hand holding her reins. Behind them, all mounted, a company of soldiers waited in silence, twenty strong, a surprisingly
large contingent of guards for such a journey. The queen felt her stomach tighten.
“We’ll dispense with the formalities, Archminister,” Olesya said in a low voice.
Abeni nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.”
The queen stepped forward, opening her arms in greeting. “Diani, duchess of Curlinte, we welcome you to Yserne. I name you guest-friend of this house so that all will know that you are under my protection. So long as you remain in this city, the soldiers of Yserne will guard your life as they would my own.”
Diani swung herself off her mount stiffly, and knelt before her. A moment later, Sertio and the Curlinte guards did the same.
“My thanks, Your Highness,” the duchess said, her voice strained. “You do us great honor by welcoming us so.”
“Rise, child. Let me look at you.”
Diani and the men in her company stood and the duchess kept herself utterly still, suffering the queen’s gaze as if she were ashamed of her appearance.
“What’s happened?” Olesya asked. She cast a look at Sertio, whose concern was as obvious as Diani’s weariness. “Is she ill?”
“I’ll tell you everything when we’re safely in the castle,” the duchess said. And as she spoke, her eyes wandered not to the soldiers or the mob of people visible through the gate but rather to Abeni.
Only then did the queen realize that Diani had come to Yserne without her first minister.
“Of course.” Olesya faced the Qirsi woman. “Perhaps you should return to the castle ahead of us, Archminister. Make certain that our guests’ quarters are ready.”
Abeni was eying the duchess, her expression grim, her cheeks even more pallid than usual. “Yes, Your Highness.” She bowed to Diani. “Welcome to Yserne, my lady.”
Diani said nothing, though she did nod once.
Clearly the duchess was in a good deal of pain, but she walked with the queen back up to the castle, even managing a smile and an occasional wave to the men and women cheering her arrival. She was her mother’s daughter.
Once inside the castle, Diani and Sertio followed the queen back to her chambers, none of them speaking. Only when the door was closed and they were alone did Olesya turn and look at the duchess again.
“Now tell me,” she said. “What’s happened?”
Diani dropped herself into a chair, her eyes closed. She should have waited for leave from the queen to sit, but Olesya was not about to remark on it now.
“There was an attempt on my life.”
“There were two,” her father corrected.
“During your journey here?”
The young woman shook her head. “Near the end of the waning. This is why we came to see you.”
“You were wounded?”
“Yes, but the wounds have healed.”
“They’re not bleeding anymore,” Sertio broke in. “That doesn’t mean that you’re whole again. Three arrows,” he said to the queen. “One in the leg, one in the chest, one in the back. The healer told her to rest.” This last came out as a plea, as if he wanted Olesya to tell Diani to get herself to bed.
“I did rest, Father.”
“Not nearly enough. We shouldn’t have ridden so soon.”
“Her Highness had to know, and we agreed that sending a messenger presented too many risks.”
“Who did this?” the queen asked.
Diani opened her eyes, her gaze clear. “It was made to seem that Edamo ordered the assassination. The archers had their heads shaved, and their arrows were marked blue and yellow.”
“But you don’t believe this.”
“Edamo isn’t that bold.”
“Have you captured the assassins? Have you questioned them?”
“They were murdered themselves,” Sertio said, “by another man who made the second attempt on Diani’s life the following day. He’s dead as well.”
They didn’t believe the Brugaosans were responsible, which left only one other choice. A lioness wasn’t supposed to show fear, but Olesya had to struggle to keep her voice steady as she said, “Your first minister isn’t with you. Is he responsible?”
Diani nodded. “We believe it’s possible.”
“We know nothing for certain.” There could be no mistaking the anger in Sertio’s voice. There was far more to this than they had told her.
“But you suspect the conspiracy.”
“Yes,” Sertio said, though even this he offered with some reluctance.
“It had to have been the conspiracy,” Diani said, more to her father than to the queen.
“Do you have any evidence of Qirsi involvement?” Olesya asked.
Diani twisted her mouth, looking like a child caught in a lie. “No, Your Highness. Not yet.”
The queen nodded. “I agree that it makes little sense for the Brugaosans to have done this. They’d have little to gain, and for all his bluster, Edamo is not ready to test his army against mine.” She nearly said something about Cyro’s murder, but quickly thought better of it. Neither the duchess nor her father had raised the matter, and there seemed little point in doing so herself. “Still,” she said instead, “I can’t do much without proof that the conspiracy has come to Sanbira.” She pressed her fingertips together, fearing their answer to her next question. “Where is your first minister now?”
Olesya sensed that Sertio wanted to respond, but was holding his tongue. It seemed this was Diani’s tale to tell.
“He’s in the prison tower of Castle Curlinte, Your Highness. Even without the evidence of which you speak, I have little doubt of his complicity in this matter. I felt it most prudent to confine him to the tower. He won’t be able to strike at me again from there.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nobles of the other realms imprisoned men without cause as a matter of course. Perhaps the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde did as well. But the duchesses of Sanbira did not do such things. It was not their way. “And what if he’s innocent?” she demanded. “Kreazur served your mother loyally for years. If he had betrayed House Curlinte, she would have known.”
“She was ill for a long time, Your Highness. She wasn’t the same woman at the end. She might not have known.”
“Nevertheless, child. To treat a trusted advisor in such a way . . .” She shook her head. “What if one of your other Qirsi is the traitor? Don’t you think that Kreazur could help you discover the truth?”
Diani shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes darting toward Sertio.
“Go on,” he said. “Tell her the rest.”
The duchess took a breath, as if gathering herself for a fight. “I’ve imprisoned all the Qirsi who serve our house.”
“What?”
Olesya felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. “Diani, how could you do this?”
“Until I know which of them have betrayed me, I feel safest with them in the tower.”
“You allowed her to do this?” she asked of Sertio.
“It wasn’t my father’s place to give or deny me permission, Your Highness. You know that as well as anyone.”
The queen shook her head again. “This is wrong.” She stepped to her window.
I’ve imprisoned all the Qirsi
. . . . “How long have they been held?”
“A bit more than half a turn.” Sertio. Clearly he didn’t approve of this either. Diani had done it all on her own.
“You must release them at once,” Olesya said, turning to face them both. “This can’t be allowed to continue.”
“But, Your Highness—”
“Release them, Diani. Send a message to Curlinte instructing whoever you left in charge to free them all.”
The young woman stood. “You would dictate to one of your nobles how she must govern her duchy?”
“If she acts the fool, yes.”
Diani’s cheeks burned crimson and Olesya had to remind herself that despite the ducal robes, this was still but a girl standing before her, new to her power, still grieving for Dalvia, and still recovering from an assassination attempt. It was so easy to forget with Diani, for she had always been wise beyond her years and so like her mother in many ways. Dalvia and Olesya had often spoken of how the girl seemed to have been born to rule, but really this wasn’t true of anyone, not even a queen. Statecraft couldn’t be bred into a child. It had to be taught, and Diani had lost her tutor at far too tender an age. Too late, the queen realized that she had approached this matter in the wrong way.
“Surely you see the danger in what you’ve done,” she began again, her tone far more gentle than it had been a moment before. “To imprison people solely because they’re Qirsi is to make yourself no different from those in the conspiracy who kill nobles simply because they’re Eandi. It’s not our way, Diani.”