The Queen's Gambit (51 page)

They froze there, glaring into each other's eyes. Lervan's gaze burned with hatred mingled with astonishment. Then the color drained from his face, and he sagged against her. She saw him try to lift his weapon, but it dropped from his fingers. He fell onto her, dragging her down. Pinned by his weight on the steps, she struggled to shove him off.

Lervan's body was yanked away, and Maltric stood over her with an upraised sword. Crying out, he swung at her, but Talmor came at him from behind and plunged his blade into Sir Maltric's back. The old protector fell, and Talmor stood there, grim and furious, his bloody weapon in his hand.

Then knights and officials surrounded her.

“Pheresa!” Calling her name, heedless of protocol, Talmor pulled her up against him. She was shaken, winded, with Lervan's blood smeared across her hauberk. Wild-eyed, Talmor stared at her as though he saw a ghost.

She smiled at him, a little tremulously, and handed him her dagger to clean.

Like a man dazed by something he cannot believe, he took the weapon and wiped it on his leg. “It came true, almost
exactly as I foresaw it,” he murmured. “But I was wrong about everything.” Sudden light filled his eyes, and he looked at her like a man reborn. “Wrong!”

She realized the premonition that had worried him so dreadfully had indeed come to pass, despite her refusal to believe in it. “You must learn to interpret your dreams better,” she murmured, and forced herself to look down at Lervan.

His body lay sprawled at her feet, blood staining his gaudy robes.

The smell of blood reached her nostrils, and she suddenly felt sick. With her head spinning a little, she wanted to sit down. Never had she killed a man before, and she was stunned by her own capacity for violence. She had laughed and danced with Lervan. She had lain in his arms. She had borne his child and mourned it alone. Yet the deed was done, and although she longed to throw herself into Talmor's embrace and weep, she knew that if she fainted or showed any weakness now, she would lose the respect of the warriors around her.

With all her will and determination, she held herself together and turned her gaze firmly away from Lervan's corpse.

Silence lay around her. Defiantly, she faced her subjects, and as Talmor handed her cleaned dagger back to her, she slid it into its sheath with a set expression.

Her father was the only man who dared approach her. Angrily, he said, “I think the queen has gone mad. What has prevailed against her mind during her long absence from us? How dare she strike down our king—”

“Lervan was not your king!” Pheresa said harshly. “His attack on the queen's person was treason. You know it, as do all these men!”

Lindier glared back at her. “You have forgotten how to be a woman. You are barbaric—”

“I am queen!” she shouted. “And I have given him mercy by sparing him a public execution.”

Her father lifted a fist and shook it at her. “You had no right—”

“Nay, I have every right to defend myself against those who turn against me.” She stared into her father's angry eyes
and knew that he would never change. And now, driven by anger or grief, he had gone too far.

“Including you,” she continued more quietly. “You chose the wrong side in this contest. I am sorry.”

He stared at her, a corrupt old man, and his defiance collapsed. He opened his mouth without a sound.

She glanced at the guardsmen standing alert nearby. “Arrest the marechal on charges of treason. He has plotted to rob me of my throne.”

“No!” Lindier shouted, but the guardsmen surrounded him and swiftly led him away.

She watched through narrowed eyes, letting none of her emotions show. The dignitaries behind her were murmuring and exchanging glances. Lord Fillem began to edge away. She glimpsed his flight from the corner of her eye and knew that more arrests would follow. Lervan's supporters, she vowed, would be cleaned out with a ruthless hand.

“The queen!” a voice shouted, and around her the cheers went up, louder than ever. “The queen! The queen!”

She faced her people with her head held high, her visage stern and regal, and knew at last what it meant to rule. This, she thought, was Verence's legacy. The people's trust resided in her hands once more, and she knew that she would not fail them again.

She started up the steps toward the cathedral, where her crown and scepter awaited her. As she passed Talmor, she saw his face shining with pride, and her own heart lifted in answer.

He followed in his old place at her heels, but she paused and reached out to him with a smile.

“Nay, my lord,” she said quietly. “Walk at my side from now on.”

Silently, a little wide-eyed, he stepped up beside her. Pheresa let her gaze linger on his a moment. Whatever the future might hold for them, she told herself, and whether their love remained private or became public, they would face it united, with mutual honor and respect.

Together they walked into the church to see her crowned at last.