Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

From her rooms, as her maids dressed her, Rielle watched his progress through the city. Evyline, at the door, kept clucking her tongue. They would be late.

But Rielle did not relish the idea of standing there at the castle gates, twiddling her thumbs while Merovec took his time wandering through the city. She changed her gown four times before settling on one she deemed suitable—a velvet gown of deep plum and forest green, with a wide, swooping neckline that left her shoulders bare and gold trim at the sleeves and skirts. More of a winter gown than a spring one, but she couldn’t resist the drama of it—nor the unabashed House Courverie colors. The maids braided some of Rielle’s hair back from her face and left the rest falling free in wild, dark waves.

“Ready,” she said at last, primly, as she glided past Evyline out the door.

Evyline blew out a sharp breath and followed her, the rest of the Sun Guard falling into formation behind them.

“My lady,” Evyline began.

“Yes, my darling Evyline?” said Rielle.

“I don’t think it wise to keep Lord Sauvillier waiting. In fact, as a general rule, I think we should scramble to please him.”

“Evyline, who is the Sun Queen? Me, or Merovec?”

“My lady,” said Evyline, exasperated, “that is not my point. House Sauvillier—”

“Oh, I know all about House Sauvillier,” Rielle said, waving her hand. “Money and power and popularity and more land than they know what to do it. Awful, rocky land in the north, where it snows constantly and no one of sound mind likes to live, but it’s land nonetheless, I suppose.”

“It’s just that in the wake of everything that’s happened with, ah, His Highness and Lady Ludivine… That is, with the betrothal broken, and your, ah, relationship with His Highness so publicly known…”

Rielle stopped walking. “Evyline, do you think me ignorant of circumstances in my own life? And the political dynamics of my own country?”

Evyline flushed. “No, my lady.”

“Well, then. Let’s walk on in silence, shall we?”

And so they did, until emerging into the brightly lit stone yard outside the castle doors. A massive crowd had gathered at the lower gates, waving the colors of House Sauvillier—silver, russet, and slate blue. Raucous cheers met Rielle’s ears. They cheered for Merovec, for Ludivine. Merrily, they sang the old northern traveling song: “Beware, beware the Sauvillier smile…”

Just before Rielle joined Audric and Queen Genoveve, thin and pale in her mourning gown, Evyline touched her arm, holding her back.

Rielle nearly snapped at her—until she saw the expression on her face.

“I only ask that you be careful, my lady,” Evyline said softly. “I do not trust him. And I very much dislike the things I have heard about stirrings in the north.”

Rielle relented, squeezing Evyline’s gold-gloved hand. “We will discuss this later.”

Then, with a twinge of apprehension in her breast, she turned with a bright smile to greet the Shield of the North.

38

Eliana

“I’ve never had many friends. Most people think I’m foolish for believing in the old stories and for writing about them and for telling them over and over and changing things about them to make them better. The only person who’s never teased me even once is Eliana. She doesn’t believe the old stories are true, not anymore, but she listens every time I tell them. I help her sleep by reading them aloud to her. When I cry or get angry because I can’t decide on the right words, she holds my hand until I find them.”

—Journal of Remy Ferracora, July 27, Year 1015 of the Third Age

As the scouts informed the others of what they had seen—a force of Empire soldiers, thousands strong, moving inexorably toward a city that held hundreds of such soldiers already—Eliana carefully watched Simon’s face, but it gave nothing away.

All the feeling he had worn recently vanished, a shutter swiftly falling down over his eyes. When the scouts finished speaking, and Ester had led them away to be fed and have their wounds tended to, a silence fell over those left in the room. Simon glanced at Eliana only once, and then turned away to stand at the far window.

Patrik blew out a breath, his arm bound in a sling. Remy waited, fretting at the edge of his chair, Harkan sitting still and silent beside him. Dani leaned back in her own chair, a thoughtful frown on her face. Jessamyn stood in the corner, leaning on her crutch and glaring at the floor, her faded red hair falling in two neat plaits down her back.

“Well, we clearly need to leave,” she said, “and as quickly as possible. We’ll go west once the danger has passed, cut south toward Morsia, and avoid the army altogether. Aren’t there several Red Crown strongholds along the way? We’ll see what they need, help as we can. Perhaps by then we’ll have heard news of your Astavar friends and Hob, and can join them in the Vespers.”

When no one responded, she glanced irritably at Patrik. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“If what Eliana and Simon have told me is true,” he said slowly, “it won’t matter if we run. The Empire is hunting Eliana. They’ll find us wherever we go.”

“Then here’s where we part ways. We go our way. Eliana goes hers. They don’t care about us. They’ll be focused on finding her. It’s the perfect opportunity to do a lot of good while they’re distracted.” Jessamyn’s gaze cut to Eliana, her expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Eliana. But there are only so many of us left in Red Crown. We have to protect ourselves.”

Patrik shook his head. “I think our priorities must shift.”

Jessamyn stared at him. “You mean give up our mission. Abandon the cause and help Eliana instead.”

“You saw what she did in Karlaine. You’ve heard who Simon and Zahra claim her to be. She is the cause.” Patrik rubbed a tired hand down his face. “If we protect her, if we help ensure she succeeds, we could save many more lives than we could ever hope to on our own.”

“Or we could die. And with Astavar fallen, I’m not particularly keen to throw in my lot with some lost princess who may not, in fact, be a princess, and a marque who may or may not be able to travel through time.” She looked quickly at Eliana, then Simon. Her mouth thinned. “Sorry. Again.”

Eliana gave her a half smile. “I wouldn’t want to throw in my lot with me either.”

“But she is a princess,” Remy said, frowning. “More than that, she’s the Sun Queen. Haven’t you been listening? Don’t you know the prayers? And if the Emperor finds her before she’s ready to face him, you’ll be dead anyway. So why run?” her rooms, as her maids dressed her, Rielle watched his progress through the city. Evyline, at the door, kept clucking her tongue. They would be late.

But Rielle did not relish the idea of standing there at the castle gates, twiddling her thumbs while Merovec took his time wandering through the city. She changed her gown four times before settling on one she deemed suitable—a velvet gown of deep plum and forest green, with a wide, swooping neckline that left her shoulders bare and gold trim at the sleeves and skirts. More of a winter gown than a spring one, but she couldn’t resist the drama of it—nor the unabashed House Courverie colors. The maids braided some of Rielle’s hair back from her face and left the rest falling free in wild, dark waves.

“Ready,” she said at last, primly, as she glided past Evyline out the door.

Evyline blew out a sharp breath and followed her, the rest of the Sun Guard falling into formation behind them.

“My lady,” Evyline began.

“Yes, my darling Evyline?” said Rielle.

“I don’t think it wise to keep Lord Sauvillier waiting. In fact, as a general rule, I think we should scramble to please him.”

“Evyline, who is the Sun Queen? Me, or Merovec?”

“My lady,” said Evyline, exasperated, “that is not my point. House Sauvillier—”

“Oh, I know all about House Sauvillier,” Rielle said, waving her hand. “Money and power and popularity and more land than they know what to do it. Awful, rocky land in the north, where it snows constantly and no one of sound mind likes to live, but it’s land nonetheless, I suppose.”

“It’s just that in the wake of everything that’s happened with, ah, His Highness and Lady Ludivine… That is, with the betrothal broken, and your, ah, relationship with His Highness so publicly known…”

Rielle stopped walking. “Evyline, do you think me ignorant of circumstances in my own life? And the political dynamics of my own country?”

Evyline flushed. “No, my lady.”

“Well, then. Let’s walk on in silence, shall we?”

And so they did, until emerging into the brightly lit stone yard outside the castle doors. A massive crowd had gathered at the lower gates, waving the colors of House Sauvillier—silver, russet, and slate blue. Raucous cheers met Rielle’s ears. They cheered for Merovec, for Ludivine. Merrily, they sang the old northern traveling song: “Beware, beware the Sauvillier smile…”

Just before Rielle joined Audric and Queen Genoveve, thin and pale in her mourning gown, Evyline touched her arm, holding her back.

Rielle nearly snapped at her—until she saw the expression on her face.

“I only ask that you be careful, my lady,” Evyline said softly. “I do not trust him. And I very much dislike the things I have heard about stirrings in the north.”

Rielle relented, squeezing Evyline’s gold-gloved hand. “We will discuss this later.”

Then, with a twinge of apprehension in her breast, she turned with a bright smile to greet the Shield of the North.

38

Eliana

“I’ve never had many friends. Most people think I’m foolish for believing in the old stories and for writing about them and for telling them over and over and changing things about them to make them better. The only person who’s never teased me even once is Eliana. She doesn’t believe the old stories are true, not anymore, but she listens every time I tell them. I help her sleep by reading them aloud to her. When I cry or get angry because I can’t decide on the right words, she holds my hand until I find them.”

—Journal of Remy Ferracora, July 27, Year 1015 of the Third Age

As the scouts informed the others of what they had seen—a force of Empire soldiers, thousands strong, moving inexorably toward a city that held hundreds of such soldiers already—Eliana carefully watched Simon’s face, but it gave nothing away.

All the feeling he had worn recently vanished, a shutter swiftly falling down over his eyes. When the scouts finished speaking, and Ester had led them away to be fed and have their wounds tended to, a silence fell over those left in the room. Simon glanced at Eliana only once, and then turned away to stand at the far window.

Patrik blew out a breath, his arm bound in a sling. Remy waited, fretting at the edge of his chair, Harkan sitting still and silent beside him. Dani leaned back in her own chair, a thoughtful frown on her face. Jessamyn stood in the corner, leaning on her crutch and glaring at the floor, her faded red hair falling in two neat plaits down her back.

“Well, we clearly need to leave,” she said, “and as quickly as possible. We’ll go west once the danger has passed, cut south toward Morsia, and avoid the army altogether. Aren’t there several Red Crown strongholds along the way? We’ll see what they need, help as we can. Perhaps by then we’ll have heard news of your Astavar friends and Hob, and can join them in the Vespers.”

When no one responded, she glanced irritably at Patrik. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“If what Eliana and Simon have told me is true,” he said slowly, “it won’t matter if we run. The Empire is hunting Eliana. They’ll find us wherever we go.”

“Then here’s where we part ways. We go our way. Eliana goes hers. They don’t care about us. They’ll be focused on finding her. It’s the perfect opportunity to do a lot of good while they’re distracted.” Jessamyn’s gaze cut to Eliana, her expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Eliana. But there are only so many of us left in Red Crown. We have to protect ourselves.”

Patrik shook his head. “I think our priorities must shift.”

Jessamyn stared at him. “You mean give up our mission. Abandon the cause and help Eliana instead.”

“You saw what she did in Karlaine. You’ve heard who Simon and Zahra claim her to be. She is the cause.” Patrik rubbed a tired hand down his face. “If we protect her, if we help ensure she succeeds, we could save many more lives than we could ever hope to on our own.”

“Or we could die. And with Astavar fallen, I’m not particularly keen to throw in my lot with some lost princess who may not, in fact, be a princess, and a marque who may or may not be able to travel through time.” She looked quickly at Eliana, then Simon. Her mouth thinned. “Sorry. Again.”

Eliana gave her a half smile. “I wouldn’t want to throw in my lot with me either.”

“But she is a princess,” Remy said, frowning. “More than that, she’s the Sun Queen. Haven’t you been listening? Don’t you know the prayers? And if the Emperor finds her before she’s ready to face him, you’ll be dead anyway. So why run?”