The Twelve Kingdoms (3 page)

Despite it all.

“What say you, Captain?”

For a startled moment, I formed a reply, before I registered that Uorsin spoke not to me, but to the foreigner. Of course. The Hawks called me captain. My father would not.

The foreign warrior bowed to the King, remarkably fluid despite his bulk. Danu save me if it came to hand-to-hand with him. I would have no physical advantage of any kind.

“High King Uorsin.” His voice, baritone deep, pronounced our Common Tongue with a twist of accent, strangely lyrical from such a brute of a man. “Her Highness Princess Ursula has not yet shed her fighting gear, nor shaken the dust from her boots. Is it not traditional among your people, as with ours, to welcome the wanderer home? A feast to feed her, an opportunity for news to be exchanged.”

I could hardly be called a wanderer. And the way he phrased that—“feed her”—as if I were livestock to be fattened for slaughter. What game did this man play? My palm itched for my sword. Uorsin nodded, gave the man an actual smile. As if at any moment he might clap the fellow on the shoulder. “An excellent idea,” Uorsin proclaimed, waving a generous hand over the court. “A feast it shall be. Do you agree, Daughter?”

Regroup.
I inclined my head at my King, added a nod for this foreigner who claimed such power over my father's opinion. “I would like nothing more.”

He harrumphed, giving me a suspicious eye. “I think there's much you do not say, Ursula.”

My name, at last.
I
had been named for him, his firstborn and, ostensibly, still his heir. Ami might be flighty in some ways, but she wasn't insensitive. She never would name her children after Uorsin, since I already bore that mantle. The only one who didn't see that truth sat on the High Throne, giving more weight to the carelessly proffered opinions of a foreign warrior than to the daughter he'd groomed to replace him.

I knew why. Not my recent failures, though they didn't help. No. Because of what failed to dangle betwixt my thighs. Such a foolish thing by which to judge a person and yet the one thing I could not learn, train for, or otherwise acquire, even to please my father.

There was a time—perhaps even still, in the quiet corners of my heart—when I would have done anything to change what made me so deeply flawed. To achieve the impossible. Danu knew I'd attempted any number of challenges to win Uorsin's approval, short-lived though it always was.

I'd only ever refused one.

And for that, he would forever damn me.

“T
here's much to say, when you have the opportunity.” I couched my words to the King in a neutral tone, though the ambassadors ranged just behind me would be keen to pick out the least nuance. Hardly a state secret, however, that I'd have observations to communicate to Uorsin in private. And questions. Many, many questions.

His eyes gleamed. Tempted. He loved nothing more than privileged information and the game of debating and predicting repercussions. We often agreed, and when we didn't, enjoyed the argument. For long spaces of time during those conversations, he'd forget what I lacked and engage with me entirely as another duelist. In our shared love of strategy, I always felt closest to him, that I measured up.

I met his gaze steadily, asking him—as much as I could afford to—to give me that time with him. Things had changed when King Rayfe of the Tala had sent the message claiming Andi as his contractual bride. It bothered me that I still didn't quite know all the reasons for it, but I believed we'd return to normal, once we'd resolved this crisis and all of the subsequent repercussions. I had to believe it.

I doubted that Uorsin would truly set me aside for my nephew. He taunted me with the possibility just as he'd so often knocked me down with the flat of his sword: to teach me to get back up again. I simply needed to prove that I could.

“Perhaps tomorrow. Go so that you might better present yourself tonight. Try to look like a Princess of the Realm, Daughter, rather than a foot soldier.”

I bowed, taking the extra effort to ensure I kept the movement fluid, not stiff with the humiliation that threatened to burn its way through to my face. The foreigner's sharp gaze flicked over me, but I ignored him. Uorsin had not seen fit to introduce the man; thus he would remain beneath my notice. If he thought Uorsin's barbs made me weak, then he'd be committing a grave tactical error.

My father was a great King. A peacemaker and leader of men. He'd made me strong.

I strode back up the aisle, keeping my head high and strides confident, allowing myself to rest my hand on the sword hilt. Now a gesture of power. The faces of the courtiers remained studiously blank, but many tipped heads in acknowledgment. I held rank still and they knew it.

More, they needed me. Particularly if Uorsin's erratic behavior had only escalated, as it seemed it might have.

An odd figure caught my eye. Another foreigner, of the same breed but female. She wore a cloak the color of banked coals and sported the same sunny looks as her countrymen. Her eyes, however, burned dark—a startling contrast to her fair skin. She stared hard at me, which was how she'd caught my attention. My skin crawled and the hair rose on the back of my neck. Much as in the presence of the Tala and their dark magic.

Hers, however, made me think of death.

Refusing to hasten my stride, I nevertheless realized as I made my escape that I'd neglected to look for Dafne before exiting the room. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, but I'd meant to and the strange woman had rattled me enough that I hadn't.

I needed to settle myself before the feast or I might lose my hard-won composure.

A hot bath could do the trick. I rarely indulged, but the warmth might loosen my back and I needed to bathe regardless. Just outside the throne room doors, I nearly ran over Madeline Nique, chatelaine of Ordnung.

An imposing woman, she rarely presented as flustered, though she came close at the moment. “Your Highness.” She curtsied. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you. You heard?”

“I wished to confirm with you. A feast for the entire court, a few hours from now?”

“Indeed. Can you manage?”

“Barely. I'm not entirely unprepared, but . . .” She rolled her eyes and made the circle of Glorianna, asking the goddess mutely for assistance.

Uorsin never gave a thought to such things. He could provision multiple armies and plan food supplies to outlast an extended siege, but it never seemed to cross his mind that Ordnung's daily activities required similar management.

Nor had he needed to, as I'd stepped into my mother's shoes in making decisions for such things even before Salena died when I was ten. I'd trained Madeline myself when her predecessor retired, and I knew her to be an efficient, competent woman. No doubt the kitchens would already be in an uproar over such an undertaking on this short notice.

“He called for formal, so that gives you an extra few hours. Do we have any entertainment we can tap?”

“No minstrels, of course.”

Ah, right. Uorsin's ban on song. He'd thought slowing the speed of news would impede any colluding amongst the rebel kingdoms. An interesting strategy, though I'd argued against it. People liked their entertainment. Taking it away only made them feel slighted, quicker to anger, easier to coax to fighting. Besides, it seemed like insult piled on injury to me, the hardships they suffered and now no songs or storytelling to ease their minds at the end of what had to be grueling days.

“What about the castle ladies—surely they have some summer play or dance?”

“There's not so many without you or your sisters in attendance. The ladies who did not accompany the Princess Amelia to Windroven have largely returned to their families.”

It hadn't occurred to me how the social life of Ordnung would deteriorate under these conditions. If only I
had
been born male, I could have married and left this sort of thing to my wife. “Bad luck—entertainment would allow us to serve nibbles for an hour or two longer, along with copious wine. You'd have more time and a happier, more forgiving crowd to serve.”

“There are these . . . acrobats,” she tendered.

“Acrobats?” I turned the word over in my mouth.

“Some of the Dasnarian mercenaries. It's a sort of exercise they do. Twisting and tumbling. Quite amazing. The best among them don colorful costumes and compete.”

Mercenaries.
Danu save us all. I had hoped for another explanation for the presence of the foreigners. Though what it might have been, I didn't know. Another demonstration of the foolishness of relying on such a flimsy thing as hope. One day I would learn.

“Then Ordnung might as well get its money's worth. Can you arrange for it? What else can I do?”

“You've done it, Your Highness. Thank you.” She curtsied again and gave me a sincere smile. “It's good to have you back. Things will be done as they should be now. I'll arrange for the acrobats and will be in the kitchens, should you think of aught else.”

I took the shortcut to my rooms, through the arcade, mulling her words.
Things will be done as they should be now.
Mercenaries, in Ordnung, with their captain waiting attendance on Uorsin. Weariness crawled through me. Perhaps I'd forestall a bath and lie down, see if I could manage to sleep. Madeline would need nothing more, I felt sure. She'd been handling everything without my direction in my absence. Taking over those responsibilities for my mother, I'd quickly learned that finding the best people was key.

Mother had deteriorated in those last years after Andi was born and particularly during her pregnancy with Amelia. I understood more now than I had then. Andi had borne the mark that made her our mother's successor in Annfwn, as Queen of the Tala, and Salena had desperately wanted to take her there. But she'd done her duty and waited the five years to strengthen enough to bear her third daughter.

She would have left then, taking Andi and Ami with her, but she'd died before she could. It would have been better for my sisters, if she'd managed to. Not that it would have made much difference in my life. Even if she'd tried to take me, too, which I highly doubted, Uorsin would never have let me go.

It hadn't been easy, being both son and queen for my father, but I'd risen to the task. Until recently.
You will again,
I told myself.
You're just tired.

“Your Highness.” Derodotur's voice called out as he hastened up the arcade. Facing a private grassy courtyard, the white marble arches let sunshine into the hall, with urns of tumbling flowers at intervals. The quickest way to my rooms, it became impassable in winter. Derodotur was one of the few who'd know I'd go this way. He sketched a bow and scratched his nose. “Did you see that the armory has been updated as you directed?”

I suppressed a sigh. Of course he'd have information to impart, that I'd want to hear before facing Uorsin and the court again. It shouldn't take long, and then I could bathe and take a few minutes. Shaking off the weariness, I nodded. “I had not had the opportunity. Let's take a look. Court has adjourned, then?”

“Yes. Everyone is looking forward to your welcoming feast.”

Oh, yes. The one that a foreign mercenary suggested—making it suspicious right there.

We moved briskly through the formal areas of Ordnung, quieter now that the courtiers had made themselves scarce in hopes of better fortune in the relaxed atmosphere of the promised feast. No doubt also planning to seek me with petitions they'd saved for my return. Troops drilled in the barracks courtyard. No sign of these acrobats, however. It would be interesting to assess their abilities. I highly doubted that mountain of a captain would be twisting or tumbling.

Derodotur made a show of pointing out the additions to the armory—slight—and made sure I got a good look at the additional ranks of mercenaries in the barracks—substantial—before closing the door behind us in the blade-sharpening room and turning to face me.

Buried in the ground and lined with stone, the chamber made an ideal location for Derodotur's confidential conversations with me. I'd been nine when he first brought me here, giving me insight on dealing with my often irascible father. He'd been Uorsin's page in the Great War, long before he met and married Salena. Having survived this long as the King's closest adviser, he also knew well the importance of never showing fear.

Seeing that emotion in Derodotur's face cemented the dread. Things were bad.

“When did they arrive?” I asked him, point-blank.

We both knew exactly who I meant. Derodotur shook his head. “I argued against it. You know that. At first—” He laughed at himself, a bitter edge. “At first I thought he was joking. But no. Uorsin sent for the Dasnarians shortly after you departed for Branli. He's determined that only they can be trusted not to defect to the loyalties of their home kingdoms. They've been at Ordnung just under four months.”

“I'd heard nothing.”

“You wouldn't have. No one has been allowed to leave the castle proper or the township. The minstrels departed long before that.”

“The township? How does he prevent—Ah.” That explained the foreign soldiers' idleness in the village. They were guards. And, with no open decree to prevent people from traveling
to
the township, as people were wont to do in warm weather, the population would keep increasing. We could sustain the situation into early autumn, but once the snows moved down from the mountains, we'd be hard-pressed to feed and clothe everyone. Disease would follow. It made me feel ill to contemplate it. Ugly ways to die. Give me the sword instead. “He must have a plan.”

Danu tell me he has a plan. That he's not . . .
I stopped myself from even thinking the words.

Derodotur's eyes shifted to the side. “He has not confided such to me.” The closest I'd ever heard him come to expressing doubt in his King. Very bad indeed.

“How is he paying them?”

“He has promised a share of any spoils, should it come to war.”

The smooth surface of the rounded topaz under my thumb grounded me enough that I resisted rolling my head to loosen my tightening neck. Even alone with Derodotur, it would not do for me to show weakness. “And if there is no war? The aim has been to settle this without conflict.”

“He is certain there will be.”

Uorsin could make war happen, regardless. Still. “But what provision if there are no spoils to be had?”

“He has promised to levy taxes and up conscriptions to a similar level.”

“Conscriptions? How will . . .” I trailed off, understanding the fear. “Slave trade?”

“I don't
think
so.” Derodotur shook his head, unhappy, uncertain. We'd be thrice damned if we allowed the people of the Twelve to be sold into slavery. Uorsin must have a plan. He'd nearly died uniting the Twelve. My mother had sacrificed her own throne, certainly her happiness, to assist him. He couldn't betray the people and that peace.

“I shall find out the details,” I assured Derodotur, squeezing his shoulder. He'd grown frail in the last year, now shorter than I. “You know how Father loves to strategize. He'll have a plan.”

Derodotur nodded again but did not seem convinced. “I'd never say this to anyone but you, Princess, but I worry that—”

“No, don't say what can't be unsaid. The unrest will be settled and the Dasnarians sent home with pay. You'll see.”

“There's one more thing.” Derodotur swallowed hard. “A woman among the Dasnarians.”

“I think I saw her in court.”

“Yes. That's her. There are whispers . . .”

“There is always gossip in court.”

“Not like this.” Derodotur's eyes flicked from side to side, as if expecting attack from the shadows. “The King has entertained her privately.”

Uorsin entertained many women privately. Always had, even before Salena died. Nobody blinked over it, usually. I raised my eyebrows and waited, ignoring the curl of foreboding.

“She is . . . not wholesome,” Derodotur finally whispered.