Glissanda Page 17

  I see no point for niceties, and get right to it. “You are probably wondering why I’m here.”

  He looks at me with unmistakable contempt. “Not really. I know you think you’re the heir now, but you’re not. It’s that simple.” He shoves an entire biscuit in his mouth, chews it noisily.

  “Look, Dominic—”

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Please address me properly, Raven. I am the crown Prince, and I am to be called ‘Your Majesty’ by commoners such as yourself.”

  I take a deep breath, clenching my hands under the table. I have a sudden urge to throw the teapot right in his face.

  “Your Majesty,” I start again, “you’re right. You’ll be crowned next week and you will be the King of Nadir.”

  He grins, then shoves another biscuit in. “That’s right.” He sprays crumbs over the table as he says this.

  I hold back a sigh and continue. “Anyway. I still consider myself to be the true heir to the throne. Diuturnal law says so. King Araroa—our father—failed at having me killed at birth. I refused to plead for a decree of autonomy and he failed at having me killed then. I left, then I returned, and I refuse to leave again. I’m still the King and Queen’s firstborn daughter, and I should be the next Woman King of Nadir.

  He snorts. “Diuturnal law is ancient. Nobody follows that any longer. Nadir follows the modern law now. Father gave credence to the old law, but I don’t. Obviously. Besides, no one’s seen a book of Diuturnal law for centuries. It’s gone. You can make your claim”—he sneers the word—“all you like, but it’s pointless.”

  I will my face to stay hard, to not let him know how sharply his words have pierced my heart. How true they are. “Look, Dominic—”

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Your Majesty, you may believe that, but there are many who do not. Regardless, I’ve seen your supporters outside, and not only that, I’ve seen what they are willing to do for you. For me to take the throne now would result in civil war in our kingdom. I won’t be the cause of that.”

  “’Course you won’t. I’d have you thrown in the dungeon if you tried. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Gods, this kid is a jerk. I bite my bottom lip, taking a deep breath before I respond.

  “No. But you must know too that I’ve got thousands of supporters of my own. They’re ready to fight, I’ll be frank. They’re just waiting for me to say the word.”

  He stops chewing, swallows, then takes a large slug of tea. “So?”

  “So, I’m asking you to tell your supporters to stand down, to go home, and let the others be. And do what you can to revive our mother’s legacy.”

  He’s frozen for a moment. I can tell this finally registers with him.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What I mean by that, is to let the—our people trade in freedom, travel freely, let them make art and music. Ensure they are prosperous, and fed well.” I raise my brows at him. “If you follow in Queen Seraphine’s lead, not old King Araroa’s, you’ll go down as one of the most popular Kings in Nadir’s history.” Since the centuries of Woman Kings, I add silently to myself.

  He snorts. “And why would I do that? Father never allowed such things. He kept tight control over everyone, for the good of everyone. You can’t just let people run around doing whatever they wish. Chaos would erupt. I must keep order, as Father did.”

  Again, I must choke down the words I want to really say. “Because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what our mother would have done, it’s what I would do as King.”

  He shakes his head, a sneer forming on his face. “Mother was weak. That’s why she’s dead. You’re weak. That’s why I’m to be crowned six days from now.”

  I clench my teeth. My heart is thrumming with building fury.

  “Kindness is not weakness. It’s human.”

  The Prince laughs, an echo of his dead father’s. “Well, whatever. I’ll do what father taught me. And right now, that’s to excuse you from my chambers. Goodbye, Raven. I don’t wish to see you for a very long time.” He stands, pointing at the door. “Here, boy! Our guests are leaving now.”

  I stand, but before I go I have one more question I must ask. “What happened to my sword? I’d appreciate it if you’d return it to me. It belongs to me. Please.”

  Dominic looks taken aback, then snorts again. “I don’t think so. I’d like to keep it here, for safekeeping. It’s a historical artifact, after all. It’s very valuable.”

  The hooded boy is holding the doors open. “M’lady,” he says quietly. “We should go.”

  I give the Prince one final glare. “Good luck with your coronation. You’re going to need it.”

  I am so furious that our return to the Treasoner camp is a blur.

  There’s little to be gained by hanging around inside the Bastion. The hooded boy had helped us out of the Palace, this time through the kitchens and not the dungeon, thank gods. In the kitchen, several large bags of food were waiting for us, one for each of us to carry. I’m pretty sure I thanked him profusely, although I can hardly remember through my haze of red.

  My mind is only capable of one thought: this little brat cannot take the throne.

  If that happens, Nadir is doomed to even more decades of malevolent rule, everyone there merely to serve Prince Dominic’s ego, just like old Araroa’s.

  Keeping our robes on, the hooded boy led us safely away from the Palace, and we were able to slip back into the cottage unnoticed. Back at the camp, we presented the food to the cooks to much gratitude; supplies have been dwindling quickly with so many mouths to feed.

  Everyone wants to talk with me, to hear what happened with the Prince, but I just want to be alone. I tell them I’ll make an announcement that evening but I need to rest for a bit.

  Tui sees right through me: he watches me walk away, and I can tell he’s thinking of following. But he also knows that would be a terrible idea, and lets me go.

  I stumble away from everyone, and when I can’t hear their voices any longer, I sink down onto an old log. I tuck my head into my arms and listen to the sound of my heart beating wildly. Just for a few moments, until I must face what a disaster this is turning into. Before I tell these good people that the Prince has given me no choice but to directly oppose him, at potential loss of life.

  A scent reaches my nose: leather, peppermint. Soft footsteps stop before me, and I hear him crouch down in front of me.

  Leif grabs onto my arms firmly. I look up and stare dumbly at him; his face is wearing a mask of concern.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going into the Bastion? I was worried sick about you!” He pulls me to standing, then wraps his long arms around me tightly.

  I don’t resist.

  When he eases his hold on me, I finally explain. “I knew you wouldn’t like what I had to say to the Prince, to ask if he’d honor our mother, follow her legacy of generosity, of kindness.”

  A corner of Leif’s mouth quirks up. “Let me guess: he didn’t think that was such a good idea.”

  I sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Leif—you were right. Dominic’s going to be just as terrible as his father, maybe even worse. I can’t let him take the throne. I need to get Fortissima back.”

  Leif’s expression softens. He reaches up to brush away a few strands of hair hanging down in my face, then pauses, presses his hand, warm on my cheek. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Raven, for questioning you. I was wrong. You have every right to be concerned about your family still. And I know you have our fellow Treasoners’ best interests at heart. That, I’ve never doubted. I should have said so earlier today. I’m sorry. I love you. No matter what happens now. Whether you’re on Nadir’s throne or not.”

  His eyes are burning into mine, emeralds glinting in the golden evening sun. Enchanted.

  Of course I don’t doubt his support of me … but I can’t help the hard feeling in the pit of my stomach that his love for me is ent
wined so tightly with my journey to the throne.

  I let my mouth curl into a small smile. “I must be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to give up the idea of me taking Nadir’s throne, not yet.”

  A smile creeps up on his face again, steadily reaching all the way up to his eyes. “I’m with you, Raven, whatever you decide to do. Please believe me.”

  “I do,” I say, then bury my face into his chest again. I close my eyes, his scent enveloping me. Such a contrast from a few hours ago, in the dungeon.

  I don’t know how long we hold each other like this, alone in the trees. Eventually the outside world seeps back into my consciousness. I can hear music coming from the camp, and the scent of wood smoke reaches my nose.

  “Are you ready to head back?” he whispers into my hair.

  I nod my head, although I’m not at all ready. The Treasoners are waiting for my good news: that Prince Dominic will work with us to once again bring peace to Nadir. I only wish this were the case.

  I wait until after we eat to speak to the Treasoners. I regret not having better news for them, but since I don’t, I’d rather not ruin their meal. It’s quite a feast, with all the treats we were given from the Palace this afternoon. The air is clear and crisp; moonlight filters softly down through the treetops.

  Finally, I stand and greet everyone, my words returned with a round of cheers. I’m shocked to see how many people are now gathered at the camp; there’s got to be nearly two hundred, all told.

  I get right to it with the news, that Prince Dominic has no desire to work with us for a peaceful and prosperous Nadir. Just the opposite: he seems to be even more intent than his father in maintaining power and control. I tell the crowd that I will not give up.

  They cheer.

  But then something happens.

  While I was speaking, my hand had unconsciously drifted to the hilt of Imogen’s sword. The leather is soft and warm in my hand. The Treasoners standing before me, watching me, waiting for my next word seem to fade from my vision.

  Everything goes dark.

  But I’m still awake. It’s a lot like what happened on Nuimana—that vision of terror I had when I held Fortissima in my room in the moonlight.

  I just watch. Listen and wait.

  Voices slowly reach my ears. Chanting. Cheering. Jeering. A light in the distance, like I’m looking down a long tunnel. It grows brighter, slowly, and I strain my eyes to see what’s there. Then a feeling like I’m being thrown into a scene: it’s when my Queen mother, Seraphine, was executed by King Araroa. I shake my head. I don’t want to be here. I want to forget this day with all my being.

  I try to turn to run away, out of the square with the chanting men.

  hang her

  hang her

  hang her

  The women around me have tears in their eyes. They grab me before I can run, turn me toward the execution platform in the center of the crowd.

  Miss Lilith, Mum, and Papa are there. They are begging the Prince for mercy.

  He does not give it.

  I gasp and my eyes fly open. The Treasoners are still cheering, like no time has passed at all.

  I drop my hand from Imogen’s sword and look down at it hanging at my hip.

  For a time, I can’t make sense of what’s happened. Disbelief. Then I realize what I’ve seen: that the only way to get my family back, the only way to save all of Nadir, is to take the throne.

  Before I know what’s happening, I repeat out loud to the Treasoners the same words I told King Araroa that day in front of the Palace:

  “I am the firstborn daughter of the Queen, and I am the next heir to the throne. I am the next Woman King of Nadir. I’ve promised you I would fight for you. I’ve promised the people of Nadir that I would be their Woman King. Dominic will not take the throne.”

  The crowd erupts into the loudest cheer of all; the sound carries into the treetops, out into the black night.

  When it dies down at last, a single voice calls out, “What if he does?”

  I pause, just for a beat, before I say the words I know to be true.

  “Then I’ll unseat him.”

  Chapter 14

  The warming air of our tent tells me the sun is up and I’ve probably overslept. But I don’t want to wake, not yet. The dream I’m having is too good.

  Leif is kissing my neck. One of his hands is tangled in my loose hair; the other is snaking up my back, underneath my shirt. I shudder with the sensation.

  There’s a noise outside—some kids must have kicked a ball into the side of our tent—and my eyes fly open to find Leif’s smiling face right in front of mine. I smile back. It wasn’t a dream, at all.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he says, closing the distance between us. He plants a soft kiss on my mouth.

  “I think we overslept,” I say, suddenly wracked with guilt as I listen to the camp’s activity outside our tent.

  “Naw, don’t think so,” Leif mumbles into my neck, his overgrown whiskers tickling my skin.

  I give him a gentle push away and sit up. “I’ve got to get going. There’s so much to do today, so much to plan. I need to find Imogen. I need to—”

  “Shhhh …” Leif grasps hold of my hands. “It’s going to be all right. You’ve done all you need to do, for now, at least. Just setting this all into motion is enough. Look outside …”

  I crawl over to the flap of our small tent and pull it aside. Sure enough, there’s a sense of joviality in the work the Treasoners are doing: whistling and singing with a bounce in their steps. Weak autumn sunlight filters down through leaves turned red and orange upon the scene. It’s almost as if they were getting ready for a party of sorts.

  “See what I mean?” Leif says. “They’ve been looking forward to this for months. For years. They—we are ready to take our homes back. We’re ready to go home.”

  I know exactly how they feel, having been on the move myself for months. For a moment, I don’t care where I end up, as long as Leif and I can stay in one place, together. Whether it’s in Baldachin, Nuimana, or the Bastion Palace … I’m just ready for all this to be resolved.

  And from what I see outside, it looks like the Palace may very well be mine.

  Leif and I pull on our boots and jackets, then head outside to find some coffee and breakfast.

  Satiated with more offerings from the Palace kitchen, I stroll around with my coffee mug in hand. I find Imogen and Nile speaking to some of the men and listen in to their plans for a few minutes.

  Imogen finally notices me standing off to the side. I see she’s wearing another sword, and an additional large knife is tucked into the opposite side of her belt. “Hello, m’lady! Beautiful morning, isn’t it!”

  “It is actually.” I nod at each of the men in turn as greeting.

  “You look well rested. It’s wonderful to see you—”

  “No need to butter me up, Imogen. What’s going on?”

  A slight blush creeps up over her cheeks. My guess seems to be correct.

  “We meant to ask you first, but it appears that time is of the essence … what with only five days to go until the planned coronation.”

  I smile at her. “No, you’re right to take control of the planning. We don’t have a second to spare.”

  “Good. May I introduce my captains? We’re developing a plan to overtake the Palace tonight.”

  I choke on the sip of coffee I’ve just taken.

  “Tonight? This night? So soon? I know there is need to move quickly … but today? This just seems far too early. How will we get organized so quickly? We cannot fail at this, Imogen. Those Loyalists will destroy us if we’re not properly prepared.”

  “But, m’lady …” Imogen pauses. She takes a deep breath. “You must understand. Time is of the essence. If the Prince is—gods forbid—crowned early due to some esoteric exception, well, it will be far more difficult to unseat him.”

  “And how likely is that to happen?”

  Imogen shrugs. “Not ver
y, but still—”

  “I insist we take at least a day to prepare. It would be far worse to go inside before we’re ready and potentially fail. Don’t you agree?”

  Imogen huffs a breath out. “I have little to argue against that, m’lady. Any of you?” She motions at the captains, and each of them shake their heads.

  “It’s settled then,” I say. “We’ll go in at midnight tomorrow. Everyone will be asleep and we’ll surprise them.” I can’t help but grin wildly. “We’ll take the little Prince right from his slumber.”

  Imogen smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “Excellent, m’lady. We’ll be ready.”

  I take my leave to return my empty mug to the kitchen area. On my way, I notice Tui sitting by himself, whittling a long staff. I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday and am glad it looks like I’ve finally got him alone.

  “You going in with the other men?” I sit down next to him on the mossy log, dumping the dregs of coffee out on the ground behind me.

  “Sure thing, wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He tests the sharp tip of the staff with a finger. I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that. He then thrusts the end into the ground with what seems to be unnecessary force.

  “Everything okay?”

  He turns to look at me and sighs. “Cat seems to think she’s going in too.”

  “And why shouldn’t she? I’m sure the men could use her skills.”

  “She’s not a fighter, she’s a tracker. Not the same thing.”

  “That may be, but she’s excellent at making her way around unseen. We could use her for scoping out ahead, for instance.”

  “We? What do you mean ‘we’?” Tui pulls the staff from the ground, balancing it easily in one hand.

  “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean we’?” I tease. And stall. I know exactly where he’s going with this; I just want to hear it directly from his mouth.

  Which he doesn’t seem to be able to get out. “What I mean is … you’re going too? Shouldn’t you stay here with the other women … where it’s safe? Where—to be perfectly frank—I’d rather Cat stayed too.”