Queen & Conqueror (The Queens Red Guard Book 1), page 35
Ah. There it was. She returned the cool smile.
“Be careful of cunning queens, my lord. For a man needs sleep after a good fuck and a woman is left to her own devices in the darkness of the bedchamber.”
Hira stepped between them, took her arm, and led her away. Almira’s hands shook in violent anger, and at that moment, she wished she’d told Alton to stay.
PART IV
Chapter Forty-Three
ALMIRA
A long month passed and finally, Almira turned to Nadim for information when Sanaa refused. She was mindful that Suidians were superstitious by nature. They believed those who conjured spirits were sinners against the Favia and the gods of the sea. But Almira was determined. She took the information from Nadim because the desert dwellers’ entire belief system was founded on reading runes, stars, and the entrails of desert snakes. They were the beliefs of old, stomped out by modernism.
The Red Guard was cloaked in gray as they made their way through the evening market. They followed Nadim’s instructions, which entailed having them journey deep into the heart of the old city. They passed vendors who sold enchantments, magic crystals for bravery, eyes of freckled eagles to help with infertility, salts for sinuses, and a wonder of other things she could not name. The scent of fresh fish, bloodied roasts, and summer flowers trailed behind them as they moved through each section of the area. A man who grilled spicy pig tails over hot coal waved a skewer in her face and insisted his were the best. A woman tore rose petals and pounded them in a mortar and pestle then offered it to Hira ‘for your ruined face.’
At last, they found the stall they sought. The place was marked with cloven hoofs that hung from the awning.
Sanaa paused and turned to Almira. “You’re mad! One does not seek such things! You play with what you cannot kill with a blade.”
But the queen pushed aside burgundy curtains and entered regardless. Her guard was close around her, packed together in the small space. Inside, the stall was illuminated by candlelight, Istokian rugs covered the floor, and many chimes created an eerie whistle.
It was empty but there was a heavy presence there, someone hidden. Sanaa’s hand was already at her blade, her eyes were wide and alert, but it was M who spoke.
“Show yourself, witch,” M said.
“You’re early,” a raspy voice said, and they all turned towards the entrance.
Her guards unsheathed their weapons and pointed at the small figure. She was hunched over and wore a decrepit, decorated robe. The old witch met Almira’s eyes when she pulled back her hood.
“Oh!” The witch laughed in delight.
The witch was incredibly pale, her hair hung like limp string with bald spots revealing her alabaster scalp. She had yellowed teeth and a blackened tongue, stained from chewing takata leaves. One eye was brown and the other solid white.
“You can put your swords away, Red Guard. Your blades cannot hurt me.” The witch hobbled to them.
“You knew I was coming,” Almira said.
The witch eyed the guard. “I knew a powerful one would come but I didn’t know it was you, Istokian Queen."
“I’m the Queen of New Verden, witch, and you’ll address me as such.”
The witch inched closer. “From water you were pulled and from water you’ll always be. Fire breather.”
Almira fisted her hands to remain calm. “Then you know why I come.”
The witch slowly smiled and spat out the chewed-up leaves on the ground. “You’re with child, if that’s what you want to confirm.”
Almira’s hand itched to touch her stomach but held back. She suspected as much, but the medics couldn’t substantiate. It was too early, but she knew. The child needed to be a secret for as long as possible because if Alton lost this war, both their lives would be in danger.
“That’s all I wanted.” Almira opened her bag to provide her with coin.
The witch lit a cigar, and the acrid smell filled the tent. “But that’s not all you want to know.”
Almira paused and stared at her. “Answers always cost more than we’re willing to pay.”
The witch looked eerie behind the smoke of her cigar and she regarded Almira with unmoving eyes. “I speak to them, you know.”
Sanaa moved closer to Almira. She wanted to leave but Almira was enticed. Of course she had questions, but she was afraid to ask. The ability to see the future and be prepared for coming events was enticing. Would it be cheating? Was it a treacherous path?
“Them? Who?” Almira asked.
“The Favia. They’re angry and thirsty. Here comes a water queen, a fire breather, wanting peace in the land. Who are you to take meals from their mouths?” The witch’s eyes hardened.
Almira shook her head. “Death will occur whether we are at peace or at war. It’s the one thing we can be sure of in this life.”
The witch seemed amused. “But a violent death always tastes sweeter than death by old age. The body is bitter by then and very little hope is left.”
Almira swallowed and held back her flinch.
The witch leaned closer. “I have the answer to your question, Istokian Queen.”
Almira drew in a sharp breath, the desire to lap for answers great. “I’ve not asked a question.”
The witch cackled as she walked around her tent, grabbed a black egg, and smashed it against a clay plate. Inside the half-born chick had a beak and underdeveloped feathers with a trail of blood. M groaned in disgust.
“You’ve asked a question,” the witch whispered, her face hovering over the plate.
“I’ve not.” Almira’s voice was ice.
The witch paused her movements, and she raised a brow. “You’ve asked a question in the dark, in your bed. You’ve asked it.”
Almira shivered; it was an awful mistake to come here. Trapped in the wolf’s cave.
“What do you know of the whispers in the dark?” Almira asked.
The witch closed her eyes and placed her palm over the cracked egg. “They’re willing to meet your offer, but it’ll cost you.”
Almira thought of Alton, of his sleeping face, of the scent of his body on her sheets. His kisses and his love and how he looked at her over dinner. She could save him. She just needed to sacrifice something. But what would it be?
“Will it break me?” Almira whispered as she finally placed her hand against her stomach.
The witch opened her eyes and her smile vanished. “It'll take more than one man to break you.”
Almira met her stare and nodded. “Then I have my answer.”
She dropped the plate. It crashed on the floor and the guards all reached for their weapons, but the witch’s face transformed and both of her eyes turned white. As if an unseen manifestation possessed her, she grabbed Almira’s arm and the queen recoiled at her putrid smell. Sanaa’s sword was at the witch’s throat, but she was unmoved.
“Unhand her,” Sanaa warned.
“Four years you’ll suffer, and then you’ll wonder at the price. But the path is set, and cannot be undone,” the witch hissed.
Almira yanked her hand and stumbled back into Hira. Four years. Would the war last so long? Questions seized her throat, but she didn’t dare speak. Witches were tricksters. They caused chaos and danced in the ashes.
The witch looked at Hira and her face paled. “Another Balikian. A marked one. The prophecy is true then.”
“What prophecy?” Hira asked.
“Don’t listen to her!” M pointed her sword at the witch.
The woman laughed and threw her arms up, she twirled around and around, her bare feet crushing the pieces of the broken plate, the shards slicing the bottom of her feet.
“Let us go!” Keilly cried as she made for the entrance.
Then the witch stopped, and her face transformed. She looked at Sanaa. “You’re being hunted. Norrians! Protect the queen–now, or all hope of peace is lost!”
Hira clutched Almira’s arm. She was the fastest runner and could quickly escape ahead of the guard if necessary.
“Go, now! Through the fishery!” The witch screamed and yanked her hair as they rushed out. “And so, it begins, the last of this age! I’ve seen the arm! Sisters, I’ve seen the Arm of New Verden! The Great Balikian War begins!”
As the witch predicted, they were ambushed by dozens of Norrians when they ran through the streets. The Red Guard battled them, steel clashed with steel, and people screamed. Almira clutched Hira as her young cousin wielded her sword with expert moves and kept her out of harm. The blade pierced armor and blood sprayed Almira’s face more than once. She held back the sickness that hit her when the coppery scent assaulted her senses.
Sanaa shouted orders and through the market they zigged and zagged. More Norrians attacked, and a man broke through their ranks and grabbed Almira. She collapsed on the ground with a shriek. He yanked her hair and dragged her away as she kicked and screamed.
As more men approached her guard, the man pulled out his blade and pressed it against Almira's face. She shook and trembled until one of Keilly’s arrows swiftly landed in his ear, and Delara swung her powerful sword down and sliced the man clean in half. His intestines spilled at Almira’s feet as she wailed. Hira pulled her up and continued to run through the market. M shoved vendors out of the way as they rushed towards the castle.
“Don’t stop!” Sanaa yelled, gutting a man.
Hira’s hold on Almira was tight, her face set in a determined mask, and she was ferocious in her movements. Keilly was just behind them when she was stabbed by a thin Norrian who came at her from the right. She screamed as she turned to face him, and expertly sliced the man’s throat wide with a grunt.
Almira cried out as bodies dropped around her, but they managed to enter the fisheries. The scent attached itself to her nose and she retched on her robes as the Red Guard surrounded her in a protective circle. As she wiped her mouth with trembling fingers, Hira took her arm and sharply led her down an opening in the tents.
“Faster, cousin!” Hira shoved a man out of the way.
Almira leaned into her arm they rushed through the crowd of people who yelled as they tore through their stalls.
“It’s the queen!” People realized who they were and endeavored to help them. They hit the Norrians with whatever they could, hacked at them with fish cleavers and saws.
“Red Guard, this way!” a man cried.
They ran into his tent and hid as the women regrouped. They each panted, soaked in sweat and blood. Sanaa inspected Keilly’s arm.
“It’s fine!” Keilly pulled away.
Almira looked to the man aiding their escape as he spoke.
“Majesty, this way.” He showed them a back alley. “Follow this path for five clicks and you’ll come up to the back of the dungeons.”
M inspected the passageway; it was a risky move, but it was either that or back into the chaos. She wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded. Almira made to follow her, but she paused before the man.
“Why the loyalty to the crown?” Almira asked.
His eyes were Istokian blue. “I, too, was pulled from the waters of Istok, majesty. Me and my house serve our queen.”
“What is your name?”
Sanaa tugged at her. “We must make haste!”
“Westnel, the scalla smoker,” he said.
Almira grasped his hand. “You have my gratitude, Westnel, child of Istok.”
Sanaa pulled her down the alley. They were quiet as M counted the clicks. She stopped at break points before they rushed ahead. It was mostly homes, gathering in the darkening world for their evening meals. Laughter sounded and dogs barked as they sensed their presence. A spotted cat got in their way; it hissed and scampered off with its back arched. When they turned the final click, they saw the heavily guarded back gate of Mavros. They rushed to the small entrance, where a dozen castle guard instantly drew their weapons. The guards yelled for the women to stop, or they would die.
Almira strode to the front of her guard and yanked off her hood. She was covered in blood and sweat.
“Open my fucking gate,” she yelled.
The men’s eyes widened.
“It’s the queen!” A soldier shouted to the top of the gate.
They were rushed through the dungeons and the stench was as awful as she remembered. She clutched her stomach as they passed row after row of cells where men rotted. Hira’s hand on her arm was what kept her going.
Prisoners moaned as they rushed through, but it was the low chuckle that made Almira stop. When she looked to her left, there stood Hestian. He clutched at the bars of his window as he stared at her with an amused smile.
“Bad day at the market, majesty?”
He looked well for one who’d been in the dungeons for weeks. They stared at one another, and he laughed then leaned back and away from sight.
Chapter Forty-Four
ALMIRA
The hallways were covered with wounded and dead soldiers, both Norrians and Easimians. Blood splattered on the walls; this was the second attack the castle had seen since her arrival. Almira was rushed to the throne room where the Master of Arms announced her arrival. Nanai and Ley Wallace both cried in relief at the sight of her. Nanai grabbed her hand and gasped when she saw her covered in blood and bile.
“Majesty!” Ley Wallace cried.
“I’m fine. I’m unharmed, but my guard–Keilly!” Almira said.
Keilly clutched her arm and her lips trembled.
M led her away. “I’ll take her to the infirmary.”
They were interrupted by a grunt, a shout, and the clatter of irons from behind them. Almira looked at the center of the throne room and they stared at the man being held down by four soldiers. Almira startled at the sight. Ley Wallace came to stand by her, his robes frayed. He was pale and worried.
“Careful your majesty. He killed three knights and we’ve barely contained him,” Ley Wallace said.
The man was a beast, larger than any Almira had ever seen. He was tall and muscular with a head of bright red hair and a well-trimmed beard. He was dressed in brown leather and his chest sported an ugly cut that bled down to the stone floor. He growled like a beast and pulled at the four soldiers that held his shackles. The soldier’s feet slipped on the floor as they attempted to keep him in place.
When he saw the queen, he stopped the struggle and his chest heaved.
“Lord Ivar, House Benici, my queen,” Ley Wallace whispered.
Almira eyed the Norrian who dragged Ouestern soldiers like toys even as he bled. Lord Ivar shook his head to toss the loose hairs from his face and eyed her with a lecherous smile, which made him look young and handsome.
“Before you say something stupid, my lord, may I remind you that your life is in my hands?” Almira said.
Sanaa and Delara place themselves on either side of her and watched him with near fascination.
“I was simply going to provide the queen my proper title. I am Prince Ivar, heir to King Dag of Norr,” Lord Ivar said.
His voice was surprisingly elegant and not at all wild as she assumed at the sight of him. He was born to a High House, with as much grace as the Norrian court provided.
Almira raised a brow. “I wasn’t aware Norr had a king. We are all one kingdom, under one crown. The Norrians are as much my people as the Istokians.”
His face tightened and he spat on her robe.
Delara calmly walked to him and punched him in the face. Given she was almost his size, his head cracked back and he slumped on the floor with dazed eyes.
Ivar shook his head and his chains rattled. He kneeled slowly as he looked incredulously at Delara. Delara, unperturbed by his look, tossed her thick braid over her shoulder and met his stare.
“Do all your women look like this creature?” His tone betrayed wonder.
“Her name is Lady Delara of House Vayo, you’ll refer to her as such,” Almira said.
He turned to Almira with disgust and his brown eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you get it over with and kill me?”
Almira considered him, and anger that she’d been attacked flared in her. Anger that men warred with Alton far to the northeast where she couldn’t reach him.
“Why was I attacked?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Its war, woman.”
Delara, once more, punched him. It was a resounding hit, harder than before. He landed on the floor with a thump. It took him a few seconds to get up and both his lip and nose bled. He shook his great head and tossed his hair back. His eyes darkened as he scowled.
“The queen asked you a question, horse-fucker.” Delara’s tone was tense and measured.
“Oh yes, we fuck our horses, roast our enemies, eat raw meat, and dance to the ice demons at midnight!” His voice thundered in the atrium. “You people know nothing of my people, yet you place crowns on your head and call yourselves our sovereigns!” He brushed his bloody lips against the fabric on his shoulder and looked at Almira. “Where was Norr at the bargaining table when you sold your pretty cunt?”
He leaned back when Delara moved toward him again.
“You must not be used to your pansy lords speaking like a man should speak, Lady Delara.”
Almira placed an arm on Delara. “A nobleman should speak with civility.”
Delara and the Norrian glared at one another. He still watched her hand, which was tightly held into a fist. Almira decided to intervene before her guard could kill the most valuable prisoner they had in their arsenal. If this was truly Dag’s heir, he would be a pretty trading piece. She snapped her fingers in Ivar’s face and he turned to her.
