The Twelve Kingdoms (2 page)

W
e rode into the outer courtyard of Ordnung, the eyes of the castle guard continuing heavy on my back. Since when had our usual guard been replaced with foreigners who knew so little of our realm that I would be regarded with such pointed suspicion? I would have to discuss this with Lord Percy. Unlike him to man the walls with no one to recognize when important personages approached the gates.

All we needed now was a diplomatic incident because a noble of the Twelve got skewered on our doorstep by an untrained guard.

Unless this wasn't a mistake and the High King had publicly disinherited me already, upon hearing the news of Astar's birth. Or declared me a traitor as I had neither rejoined our forces poised at stalemate with Erich's nor returned with the babe. His spies would have long noted that Ami did not ride with me and that we moved at a pace too rapid for an infant. He'd never directly ordered me to join his army encamped near the river east of Lianore, but normally I would have. The last I'd heard, Uorsin's army had not moved to intercept Erich's on the march to Windroven to “celebrate the birth of Avonlidgh's heir.”

Both preserving the fiction that civil war had not yet begun in earnest.

I straightened my spine, wishing the ache away. For all the good that did. Too much time in the saddle or sitting long hours in bad chairs while I contemplated the awful possibility that Amelia might die. The rest of the Hawks looked tense to my eye as well, though I doubted a more casual observer would notice. They called out greetings to the watchful guard and joked among themselves, creating the illusion of a pleasant homecoming. The appearance of victory could be as vital as the actual accomplishment.

We dismounted in the inner courtyard, the young grooms dashing up as usual to take the horses. That much hadn't changed. But I did not recognize the guard at the door, which I absolutely should have, and my ladies did not appear to persuade me to bathe and change into a gown before greeting King and court. I would have refused, but they always made the attempt.

I'd been gone quite a long time. Perhaps that explained it.

Dafne raised her eyebrow, ever so slightly. No expression of interest now. She'd marked the changes, too.
Nervous?
Her question echoed in my head, as if it had been a warning.

Danu take them all, this wasn't right.

“Your Highness?” Marskal saluted me and the rest of the Hawks echoed the movement. It marked the transition for me, from warrior to princess. I never much liked this moment, but it wouldn't do to enter my father's court flanked by my specially trained team of crack soldiers. Though I might need them. Especially with the cold whisper of a traitor's fate breathing down my neck.

“Well ridden, well fought,” I replied, placing my clenched fist over my heart, returning the salute. “You're dismissed.”

Marskal slid a glance at the castle proper and lowered his voice. “Captain, should we—”

“You've earned your ease,” I interrupted. “I shall see you all at supper.”

I hoped.

They didn't like it, but neither would they argue. In private, maybe. Not in public view. With a final salute they dispersed. I pretended to oversee their departure, steadying myself, gathering my courage.

A scuffle of feet inside the shadowed entrance. Derodotur, Uorsin's aide and closest adviser, emerged and bowed formally. “Your Highness Princess Ursula, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Derodotur. It's good to be home.”

“King Uorsin requests that you attend him immediately.”

Not a good sign at all. Sending Derodotur to give his messages? I peeled off my metal-embedded leather gloves. My hands felt cold and I rubbed them together.

“I should change first.”

Derodotur negated that with a bare shake of his head. “King Uorsin and the court await you, Princess.”

I managed a smile and nod of acknowledgment, though my bowels turned watery. By all rights Uorsin should have met with me privately, to allow me to give him all my news informally. Once he would have done exactly that and we would have discussed how best to present it to the courtiers. With this, he was forcing me to either prevaricate in public or share sensitive information with potential enemies. At any given time, the court included several ambassadors from the eleven kingdoms outside Mohraya, if not one or more monarchs themselves. At least several sympathized with Erich and should be present, unless tensions had escalated even more than I knew.

The only one I could count on not being there was Erich of Avonlidgh himself. Danu take it, we were practically at war—what
was
Uorsin thinking? And how to plan my strategy, not knowing?

I had no more answer to the questions than I'd had before, and delaying would only exacerbate the King's uncertain temper. Nothing to be done about it.

“I'll go straightaway. Shall we, Lady Mailloux?”

“I'm at your disposal, Your Highness.”

The librarian could be all that form required, when she set her mind to it. She put me in mind of those lizards from the desert reaches of Aerron that changed skin color to match whatever you set them on. She trailed behind, as demure and discreet as any of the ladies assigned to me.

Court is simply another sort of battlefield or dueling ground. Anyone who implied otherwise was either not paying attention—Andi—or focused entirely on the social whirl—Amelia. Though I had to give my sisters credit for coming a long way in their political understanding of late. Granted, they'd been forced to in the heat of their own particular battles. I, however, had been learning the rules of this sort of conflict since I was five years old.

When Queen Salena, my mother, failed again to produce a son and Uorsin's eye fell on me.

Girding myself appropriately, I cleared my mind of all else but the duel ahead, as Danu taught. No emotion. Nothing but the moment. Defend, parry, attack, retreat, regroup.

Tension rode thick in the air, the courtiers unusually silent, so that my bootheels audibly echoed on the golden marble as I entered the throne room, the metallic braces of my leather armor clinking. High above and behind me, the rose window of Glorianna cast a pink haze. All faces turned toward me, cautiously bland—neither welcoming nor condemning. Being careful. They didn't know which way Danu's breath blew either.

Uorsin sat on the High Throne at the end of the long center aisle, flanked by the empty thrones that had always belonged to me and my sisters, along with the one to his immediate left, which had remained vacant all these years since Salena died. I'd heard the jibes enough times—both intended for me to overhear and not—that Uorsin had never felt the need to remarry, since I suited him better than any queen might. That was truer than people knew.

After all, he'd trained me to be exactly what he expected from early on. Danu knew I'd tried my best. Seemed to be unable to stop trying.

The smooth topaz in the pommel of my sword warmed the palm of my hand. Just a brief touch to my mother's jewel before I made myself move my hand away. One simply does not approach the High King with hand on sword, even if he is your father.

Particularly my father.

I studied him during that long walk, taking his measure. Enraged, yes, but not yet boiling over with it. He'd noted the lack of a babe in my arms, though that information would indeed have flown ahead from the moment I dismissed the Hawks and only confirmed what his spy network would have relayed.
Oh, Amelia, I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you.

A man stood near the empty throne at Uorsin's right hand—my seat—and though he didn't have the audacity to sit in it, he had a proprietary air. As if he belonged there. Another of these foreign men, he stood a good half head taller than I and his reach would likely outstrip mine by a forearm's length, if not more. A muscle-bound giant with a warrior's keen-edged poise. I could only hope that his bulk would slow him if it came to a fight. He caught my assessment and smiled, a bare tightening of the lips, a grim promise that his mind, at least, was not slow.

More bad luck. Danu stacked the challenge deep for me today.

I bowed, showing the respect I felt for my father, my King, and the throne on which he sat, that kept the peace of the Twelve Kingdoms.

“So.” Uorsin's voice came out in a low rasp. “My eldest daughter, at least, returns to me. But strangely empty-handed.”

Defend.
“High King, I—”

“No!” He slammed a fist on the arm of his throne, making me jump inside, though I'd long since trained myself not to show it. Uorsin respected strength, and like the bear whose standard he carried, he turned more aggressive at any sign of fear. Something my sisters had never quite internalized. But then, I'd always shielded them from the worst of it. If nothing else, I'd succeeded in that. “Spare me your excuses. I don't wish to hear the long, sad, sorry tale of your recurring difficulties in following simple instructions. I want to know one thing and one thing only, understand? The next words out of your mouth, Daughter. Where is my grandson?”

Dangerous in this mood. He would not like the exact answer, but he'd grow angrier if I gave him anything but that. “With the Princess Amelia,” I answered, crisply. A good soldier.

“Aha. An honest and exact answer. And where is the Princess Amelia?”

I sent a swift prayer to Danu and met my father's eye. “I don't know, my King.”

He stared me down, deceptively calm. “I believe you don't know. Do you know why?”

Certainly not because he trusted and believed in me. “No, my King.”

“Because”—he said the word softly, hissing the final syllable—
“nobody knows where she is!”
He finished on a shout that pierced my temples. I had to relax and widen my eyes to keep from wincing. The foreign warrior watched me while appearing not to, still assessing. I held my ground, keeping my sword hand relaxed at my side, and did not reply to Uorsin, as he had not asked me to.

“Perhaps”—Uorsin dropped into the rasp again—“you could find it in your heart to offer me a crumb of information.
Perhaps
you could tell me where they are
not
?”

Danu get me through this.
“The Princess Amelia is neither at Windroven nor with King Erich. Nor has she, to my knowledge, taken refuge at any of the temples of Glorianna.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my King. As last I knew.”

“And what precisely do you know?”

Parry.
“I attended Princess Amelia's lying in. The labor was a difficult one, but I'm happy to report that both she and your grandson came through in the blush of good health.” All true. Fancy foot- and bladework to cover the lies of omission. That Amelia nearly died. That a half-breed Tala escaped convict and rogue priest of Glorianna—also apparently her lover, Danu take us all—saved her life with forbidden magic. That she'd actually borne twins, the other a daughter no one but a handful knew about. That she and her lover, Ash, even now pursued the Tala renegades to recover Stella. That I hadn't done what my heart and sanity urged and gone with them. Instead I'd come here, so I'd better make sure I played it correctly.

“She named him Astar,” I added, with a bow to my father, “and sends you her love and regards.”

An outright lie, that last, but one Uorsin would want to believe.

Uorsin tapped blunt fingers on the arm of the throne, frowning. He wore the crown of the Twelve Kingdoms, the sharp metal edge digging into his brow. Though he'd long complained of its discomfort, he would not allow it to be softened.

“Prince Astar. He should be named for me.”

I allowed a slight shrug for my sister's whims.
Attack.
“Princess Amelia has always had a fanciful bent. She does not take my counsel.”

He did not smile in fondness for his favorite, as I'd hoped, my attempt to open his guard neatly deflected. It could be that Ami had at last put her dainty slipper a bit too far over the line.

“She need not take your
counsel
.” Uorsin sneered the last word, dripping with contempt for my opinions. Very bad indeed. I wanted to stretch, to relieve the strain up my spine, but I held myself still. The foreign soldier's gaze flicked over me, as if he'd noted my discomfort. I returned the look with studied boredom.

“I do not want Amelia's regards, as she well knows. I want my thrice-cursed heir and I want him here!” Uorsin's voice thundered impressively, and all in the court quailed, a shuffling of feet and a nervous cough betraying them. All but the foreigner. Nerves of steel there.

“They must be sought and returned to me,” Uorsin demanded.

Retreat.
“As you command, my King.” I bowed, giddy with relief. All my instincts had shouted at me to escape Ordnung while I could, to seek out and assist Ami. Now I had not only permission, but a public command to do so. The convict Ash fought impressively, but I'd feel much better guarding her and Astar my own self, with my Hawks at hand. Danu smiled on me. Far more than I'd hoped for. “I shall set out immediately.”

“Not you.”

Uorsin's negation rattled me, slicing out that momentary relief and replacing it with wariness. Bad, bad, bad.

“My King?” I let my voice carry all my unspoken questions.

“How can I be sure of you?”

The reaction, nearly inaudible, ran through the assembled court and nested in my pained gut. Here it was. The accusation I could not defend myself against. I could only reposition, entrench.

I took a step forward, to demonstrate I felt no cringing guilt. Another lie of omission. The guilt might break me. “I am, and ever shall be, your loyal subject. If you can be sure of nothing else, you can be sure of that. I would never take action against the crown. Or my father.” My throat closed on that last. I wanted it to be true. I'd long since come to terms with the reality that I could never measure up to Uorsin's ideal of the son he never had, but I still cherished, somewhere in the depths of my foolish heart, the feeble hope that he might someday love me. He'd never wanted my love, but at least I could give him the unwavering loyalty he deserved from his heir.