Queen & Conqueror (The Queens Red Guard Book 1), page 5
“Meet him halfway. I’m not attempting to change your mind, but I agree with Thebo,” her father said. “King Alton murdered his brother for a crown. What makes you believe he won’t do the same to you?”
Thebo cleared his throat. “Even if he accepts this proposal of yours, you won’t be queen in your own right. He’ll offer a consort.”
Annoyance at their questions flared in her and she stood. Couldn’t they see she considered all of this? Had it not been their words and wisdom which shaped her?
“Those are not the terms I bring, and my crown is non-negotiable,” she said.
“And what happens when he refuses?” Thebo asked.
She looked out the window, at the coming summer, the promise of heat, the promise of rain. The crops would soon be bountiful, and there would be plenty of food. It would be a time of celebration, of good humor and good fortune. She wished she could abandon the world outside, allow the men to fight her battles, and drink the summer wine. But what was the point of summer wine when eventually King Alton would come knocking at their gates bathed in the blood of her people?
“He won’t,” she said.
“But if he does,” her father said.
She pushed her gown back and glared at them. That Balikian anger she kept at bay flared into the concaves of her heart.
“Then we go to war! Do I want war? No! If men are determined to destroy themselves in blood and glory, so be it. But I shall do what I can to prevent it and I need to know that Suid and Istok are with me. We need to try. What is the future without a compromise? Shall we battle one another until we rule a graveyard? What a lovely country this will make as we plant our crops on top of blood-soaked fields.”
Their faces filled with shame.
“Men would have all women with veiled heads in their thirst to meet the Favia!” she yelled.
They were silent, perhaps a little unsure of how to treat her now that a lioness had been born—one they birthed themselves. Her mind had run wild this past year of mourning. She rounded option after option in her long hours of solitude. All she saw was a great vastness, a cloudy plain littered with slain soldiers who battled at the whims of nobility. What a damned waste.
There must be an end to such a cycle. One night she woke with a warmth against her face and the smell of an unknown man on her sheets. That’s when she knew what she must do. Marry this king, use her strong will to forge an alliance. In time, perhaps they could respect one another. In time, perhaps, she could once more recreate the Council of Five and bring representation back to the kingdom. It was a slippery slope. She didn’t want to conquer, but if this king left her no choice, then she would.
“I will note your counsel and agree to meet King Alton on neutral ground. But I will try my best for peace. It’s more than anyone has attempted before. Including all in this room.”
Chapter Five
ALMIRA
Almira sat in the private antechamber of her quarters on her golden chair with red cushions. There was a chill in the air, most unnatural for this time of the year. She looked up when Sanaa dragged in the woman and placed her in front of Almira.
The woman was coarse and not what Almira envisioned when she thought of bringing her grandmother’s seamstress into her plan. The woman stood no more than five feet, hunched and tired with a firm face that indicated her old age and a set, withered mouth. She looked unimpressed and gazed at Almira with unflinching blue eyes.
“Are you Hester?” Almira asked her.
The woman looked at Sanaa who passively placed her hand on her sword.
“Your guard sure wasted a lot of time if I wasn’t,” she said.
Almira clutched at the eagle handles of her golden chair. Interesting, she thought.
“She is Lady Sanaa of House of Cinege, same as the dead High Lord Edgar. You’ll address her as a high-born,” Almira said calmly.
Hester looked to laugh but didn’t.
“And how shall I address you?” Hester’s tone was of dark amusement, a bitter sort of anger.
Perhaps this was a mistake. Almira needed only those she could trust around her. A small leak could, in time, empty the ocean.
“You know who I am, old woman,” Almira said slowly.
Hester smiled.
“Aye, I know who you are. I know your eyes, black as a starless night. Like your mother and her mother before. Of the old race you are,” Hester said.
“Then how should you address me?”
Hester’s jaw twitched. “How might Hester serve her ladyship?”
The thought that her mother had been wrong about Hester came to Almira’s mind. But no, the memory was vivid. Her mother always spoke with great fondness and reverence about Hester.
Almira folded her hands over her black feathered skirt.
“My mother once told me that you made the most exquisite gowns for my grandmother,” Almira said.
Hester’s gaze flickered; it was small and nearly imperceptible. “Didn’t take much, Lady Poelia was a beauty.”
“And I’m not.”
Almira smiled while Hester glowered. Know what you are, her father always said, and she knew she was not a beauty. She wore this like armor. She didn’t need beauty, it wasn’t beauty that secured her a throne.
“Your mother was even lovelier. She had the kindest face. I was there when your father first laid eyes on her while she walked in the white garden. Her dark skin contrasted the roses in full bloom. Her hair long and thick, brushed the ground she walked on. He stood on the balcony enraptured. When she turned to look at him, they say she stole the very soul from his heart.”
Almira did not know of this story and held her tongue to prevent asking for more. But Hester knew of her ignorance, the upturn of her withered mouth revealed it.
It was bait, and Almira was no fish to fall for a hooked line.
“I can assure you my father’s soul remains intact. Now, do you still make gowns and tunics?” Almira straightened her shoulders.
She admitted the woman unnerved her. She did not realize why until a small smile flickered across Hester’s face. She was unafraid of Almira. Something had stripped fear from her old bones.
“Aye,” Hester said.
“And are you willing to work for me? Exclusively? In Easima?”
Hester bristled. “Easima! What would the High Lady of Suid be doing in Easima?”
Sanaa placed an armored hand on Hester’s shoulder and she shoved it off.
“I ask for a seamstress, not a political advisor, Hester. What I do in Easima is not your concern,” Almira said.
Hester laughed.
“It seems to me you want a crafter, my lady. If you wanted a dressmaker there are thousands of them in Easima but that’s not what you seek. You don’t have your mother’s gentle beauty, too much of your father in you. You want an accomplice. You have aims and you intend to capture them via a little theater. You don’t want dresses, you want costumes,” Hester said.
The minutes ticked by as Almira regarded her. Hester read her, and her hit was fair and square. But Almira was a queen and Hester was not, and queens did not cower.
“What does a High Lady of Suid want in Easima, this old woman asks? Well, I’ll answer my question, m’lady. She aims to be a queen and a wise queen knows that the first heart she needs to win is that of the people,” Hester said and a knowing smile flittered over her face.
Sanaa grasped her sword and met Almira’s eyes, but Almira held her hand up.
“Aye, cut me down. It’s not the first time a high house has threatened my life,” Hester snarled.
Almira examined her. Here she was, her shoulders hunched, hair cropped short and unkempt, her hands gnarled with age. She was twisted in anger and favored her left leg. Crippled by something long ago. She bore the pain of the past close to her heart. She was a miserable and disagreeable person. Almira disputed her decision.
“Why would a high house threaten your life?” Almira asked her.
Hester slowly touched her face and she seemed far away from there. In a time long ago.
“I didn’t always look this way. I was young once, walked right, stood right, with a proud face. Perhaps I loved unnaturally, but I loved. I loved her and they took her from me,” Hester said.
Almira studied her carefully, and she almost saw the words and the secrets housed in them. “Loved who, old woman?”
Hester limped closer. “When your grandfather discovered us, they cast me out. Never got to dress her again. Poelia had been mine for years. While he waged war, we made love. The children were ours, and your mother, my little girl…”
Tears cracked at Hester’s throat, and she looked pleadingly at her. Almira felt a stone settle itself in her stomach.
“Lamya, my little lamb. We knew she would one day marry but we were heartbroken when she left to Istok. Two days later they crushed me, and I never saw Poelia or Lamya again.”
Almira’s throat closed and she fought to maintain neutrality. Her thoughts were a swirling hurricane and the questions she thirsted for lapped at her lips. Hester examined her face as if she sought for something or someone.
“I look at you, cold and reserved… how unlike them you are, lady,” Hester whispered. “So, you find this broken woman and ask her to make you a queen. Aye, I’ll do it but not for you or your father’s spirit, making you dance to his tune. I’ll do it for them. Maybe one day you’ll behave in a manner that will remind me of my girls. I’ll live for that.”
Almira sat up and stared her down until Hester flinched, as she knew she would. “My eyes bother you, don’t they?”
She looked away and Almira nodded.
“They certainly do. I’m not a servant or a merchant. I’m the lady of this land. I’m not my mother or my grandmother. And I’m certainly not my grandfather. I’ve done nothing to cause you ill. Weaklings don’t last long on thrones, Hester, daughter of Norrians. I’m carved from pure will and yes, I will be a queen and a conqueror. My warmth is not for you, my warmth is my own and I bestow it to whom I please. The only question, which would pertain to you, is will you make my costumes?”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Hester asked.
Almira looked down at her.
Hester sneered. “My lady.”
Let her resent me, Almira thought.
“Lady Sanaa?” Almira asked.
“Yes, my lady.” Sanaa sounded relieved; she was not much for political maneuvering.
“Provide Hester with a room, apprentices, and any materials she needs.”
“Yes, my lady,” Sanaa said.
Almira brusquely stood and, to her credit, her frame was steady. The implications of the revelation still shook her, but she would not allow Hester to know. Hester backed away from her, noticing the movement of her feathered black skirts. Hester eyed the feathers with displeasure.
“Anything else?” Almira asked.
“The pleats of your gown were sewn wrong. That stitching splays the feathers.” Hester’s near casual tone was not lost on Almira.
“Then fix it,” Almira said.
After Hester left, the shards of her story bit into Almira like ghostly needles. She wished she remembered more but she was so young when her mother died. Her memories were fractures of a long lost past.
She recalled their trip to Midland Manor. They visited the small valley on the east coast when she was a child. She couldn’t have been more than five summers old at the time. The valley was a rainbow of wildflowers and her mother said they should pick some for the dinner table.
“Pick only the purple ones, my darling.” Her melodic voice was like wind chimes on a sea breeze. “They are the rarest.”
“My lady, the blacksmith is here.” Her servant pulled her from her memories.
“Send him forth. Lady Sanaa should be back soon,” Almira said.
As she walked to her table garnished with red and white flowers, the blacksmith entered. Two young pages carried a large golden box and she gestured for them to set it down.
The blacksmith moved to open the box. “My lady, we’ve completed it on time.”
“I hope you did the Royal Jewels of Suid justice. The old necklace was said to belong to the first Lady of House Sikora,” Almira said.
“Legend says so, yet... I believe it was older than that. Ancient, I would say. It was a pity to pull it apart, but now... they shine even brighter. I’ve never seen rubies like this.” He opened the box and pulled back the red velvet cloth.
There were six beautiful golden daggers each with a bright red ruby on the hilt. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and Almira gasped when she beheld them.
“Forged in the old art, as you instructed. Silver from Norr, fire from the mountains of Ouest, heated at an Istokian midnight facing the sea, and using the Suidian rubies.” He picked up one of the daggers. “I’ve never seen any like them.”
Almira took the offered blade. It was practically weightless and painfully beautiful.
“And you chanted the old Suidian phrase?”
The man hesitated. “I did, though I didn’t like it.”
Almira put the blade back into the box’s casing. She pulled a large bag of gold from one of her drawers and offered it to the man.
“I’m certain this will ease your discomfort. I’ve doubled your price. The gold also buys your silence,” Almira said.
She met his eyes and he quickly moved to take the gold, but she pulled back.
“Swear it. On the Favia, blacksmith,” she said.
He licked his lips as he considered his options. To swear on the Favia meant you were bound to your promise. But his eyes were trained on the bag of gold.
“I swear it on the Favia,” he said.
She handed him the gold.
“Be careful what you swear on the Favia. The day you break your vow is the day you die,” she whispered.
The man nodded hastily and left the room with his pages.
Almira waited until the door closed and walked to the blades. She took one of them and sliced the flowers on the table. The blooms fell instantly as if the blade was heated. A clean cut. She couldn’t hesitate, she needed to trust the ancient scrolls she read as a child.
She opened her other palm.
“You’re a queen. Fear does not become you,” she whispered to herself.
Without further thought, she stabbed the blade in her open palm. She closed her eyes in apprehension of the agony. But the pain never came. She opened her eyes and stared down at her hand. Nothing. She pierced it again. Nothing. Her breaths came up quick and she attempted to insert the blade in her throat. Nothing. She smiled.
It worked.
Blades that protect a queen cannot injure her.
Chapter Six
SANAA
Sanaa escorted the women into Almira’s chambers and the lady walked to them. Her black feathered skirts made her look like an enchantress. She claimed to Hester that she was not a beauty, but it was a thing hard to believe. Since the moment Sanaa laid eyes on her, she thought she was stunning because of her bearing.
The women lined up and Hira met Sanaa’s eyes in desperation. The girl was petrified with much cause. This would be a glorious fight and Almira was an opponent none of these women could best. Sanaa dreaded the moment she would have to defend a decision she wasn’t sure was the correct one.
“The High Lady Almira,” Sanaa said to the women. “My lady, five women. With me, six.”
Almira took her time; it was a strategy of hers, which Sanaa knew well. People were always in a hurry and to deliberate an inspection made them falter and question their worth. Her cuzo was a skilled interrogator.
Sanaa counted in her head as she watched Almira’s eyes, those phantom black pits that unnerved most people. She knew the moment her cuzo spotted Hira. It was in the tense of her thin shoulders; they stiffened and rose under her gown.
Here we go, Sanaa thought.
Almira’s face was vivid with fury. This was something she had never directed at her loyal guard. It was frightening to be on the receiving end of her anger. Sanaa almost flinched when Almira sharply turned to her.
“How dare you,” Almira said then marched to Hira.
The girl instantly dropped to one knee and she visibly trembled.
For a moment Sanaa almost intervened. She wasn’t sure exactly what her role would be. But the girl wanted this; therefore, the girl would have to defend herself.
“My lady,” Hira said.
“Get up! What are you doing?” Almira asked, her fury roaring out of her.
Hira looked up to her older cousin with her Balikian blue eyes. Her newly cut hair fell over her fair face, the red bright against her cheeks.
“Cousin, I beg that you allow me to serve you,” Hira said.
Almira pulled her up. “You’re going home, Hira.”
It was going as well as Sanaa expected. The tug and pull between the cousins before their small audience was shameful. There would be hell to pay when Sanaa was alone once more with Almira.
“Please!” Hira cried.
Almira grasped her chin, studied her, and her lips twisted. Sanaa could see her ladyship calculating how to fix this.
“Does my father know you’re here?” Almira asked.
Hira’s eyes flickered to Sanaa and Almira followed her gaze. Gods of the fucking sea. Sanaa cleared her throat and stood as tall as she could muster. Slowly, she met Almira’s eyes.
“I hid her from him,” Sanaa said. There was no use in lying.
Almira’s eyes turned an unearthly black, which always unnerved her. The tiny woman could never harm Sanaa; however, there was no denying that she was frightening. Gods, help this fucking king if he truly upset her. Sanaa wouldn’t be surprised if she had to hide a body one day.
“I will deal with you later,” Almira said then turned back to Hira. “You’re to marry in a fortnight. You cannot join my guard.”
The young girl slipped through her hands.
“I can fight and I’m loyal! Especially to you, cousin! I want to serve House Balik, and I…” Hira looked around as her words caught at her throat. “They’ll make me marry that man, please. He’s an old man!”
