A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(21)

“Yes.” His voice breaks a little. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He gives a hasty bow and shuffles backward.

I turn to look at Nolla Verin. “Don’t do that again.”

“Did you hear what she was saying? Someone had to do it.”

“I would have addressed it. You do not need to undermine me.”

“She was leaving. Were you going to send her a letter?”

The worst part of all of this is that my sister is right. I glance at the window again. On the training field, the soldiers have broken apart into sparring groups. I’ve lost sight of Grey and the others, which must mean they’ve joined the fighting.

I consider what Kallara just said before the guards took her ability to speak. Side with a man, then. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Mother never ruled with a man at her side, and I was raised with the belief that no queen needed a king in order to rule effectively. But Grey is the true heir to the throne of Emberfall, and ruling together could bring peace to both our kingdoms.

I never thought any of my subjects would see a man at my side as another brand of weakness.

I think of all the meetings where Grey hasn’t been invited. The dinners, the parties. The whispers about whether he will truly side with Syhl Shallow against his home country of Emberfall. The queries about whether I am strong enough to rule if I want a man on a throne next to me.

I don’t know if that means I should have Grey here for all of this—or if it’s better for him to be on the fields.

I know what Mother would think.

Some of the people waiting for an audience have filtered out.

It’s not because of me. It’s because of my sister.

I sigh and look at my remaining guards. “You will wait for my order before taking action. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Their words sound hollow. I don’t know how to fix that. Nolla Verin is murmuring with Ellia Maya now. I think they must be talking about me, but then the advisor nods and rises to leave the room. When my sister looks back at me, her expression isn’t repentant at all. She looks smug.

I have to fight to keep from scowling. Clanna Sun claps her hands. “Who is next? Bring forward the next issue.”

A girl in a long, dark cloak shuffles forward. She’s short, with broad shoulders, with a spill of lank auburn hair that hangs across half her face. She seems very young to be approaching the queen with an issue I am expected to solve, but maybe that’s the hesitancy of her steps. She seems to be trembling.

My heart softens. These are the subjects I want to help. The ones who would have been afraid to approach Mother.

“Come forward,” I say gently.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispers. She peeks up at me and eases all the way up to the dais. Her voice is so quiet, wavering a bit on the syllables. “I am truly grateful for an audience with you. I … I have brought you a gift.” Something made of glass glistens in the shadow of her cloak.

I hold out a hand. “Come,” I say again. “Have no fear.”

She takes hold of my hand and steps up onto the dais. Her fingers are tiny and trembling, her palm damp. Stone rings adorn her fingers. Her eyes flick to Nolla Verin and Clanna Sun, and she wets her lips.

“What can I do for you?” I say.

She withdraws her gift. It’s a crystal bottle, the neck wrapped in gold and red silk. She snaps her fingers, and the stones of her rings spark, catching the silk. A small flame erupts.

I suck in a breath and jerk back. A guard starts forward and I hold up a hand.

The girl smiles. The crystal sparkles under the flame, the silk disintegrating into sparks that fall at her feet. “Your gift, Your Majesty.”

I hesitate. It’s lovely, like a lamp with a wick on the outside.

“Magic,” she whispers, “will destroy you.”

Then she throws the bottle against the stones at my feet, and fire erupts around us.





CHAPTER TEN

GREY

The best thing about swordplay is that it needs no translation.

Most of the soldiers speak Emberish well, but many don’t—and many choose not to. I’ve discovered that many lapse into Syssalah when they don’t want me to know what they’re saying.

I’m not fluent yet, but I’ve learned enough of their language to know when they’re talking about me. I know they don’t trust me—or my magic. Many of them think I’m too young, too loyal to Emberfall, too much of an outsider. Too … male. Fell siralla was once a bit of an endearment between me and Lia Mara, but I’ve learned that here in Syhl Shallow, it’s a real insult. Stupid man. No one has the courage to say it to my face—yet—but I can see it in their eyes. I can hear it muttered under their breath when I give an order they’re not in favor of.

In Syhl Shallow, men are appreciated for strength and fighting, which seems fine on the surface, until I discovered that it means men are mostly valued for their ability to carry heavy loads and die in battle.

I’m definitely not valued for any skill with magic.

Despite the challenges I face, I’m happier on the training field with a sword in my hand. Language and politics don’t matter once a blade is flying. All that matters here is skill.

I face six opponents. Four are soldiers in Syhl Shallow’s army, two women and two men. One is my guard Talfor, and the other is Jake, my best friend and closest ally. Iisak soars high overhead, feeding his power into the air. It took me a long time to recognize the feel of his magic, because it’s not stars and sparks the way my own is. It’s a feather-light touch from the wind on a calm day, a bite of cold rain on my cheek when the sun hangs high overhead, a needle of ice to slip under my armor and make me shiver. He can slow the air, making my opponents’ movements a fraction more sluggish. It would slow me, too, but I can use my magic to accelerate my swordplay. I feel the magic of his resistance and slice through it, holding off all six blades with lightning speed.