The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(13)
“We?” he asks, glancing behind me. Opal sits in the chair Brother Shaan vacated, picking dried carob seeds from a dish on the table.
“I had to leave my companions behind with Rohan. They’ll join us soon.”
“Are they all right?” he asks.
Prince Ashwin’s concern causes me pause. “I . . . I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
Remorse flickers across his face. I am entranced by his openness; I cannot recall seeing Tarek regretful about anything. Prince Ashwin turns away from me, and his voice softens. “I appreciate your coming, Kalinda. I was uncertain if you would.”
I frown at his back, desiring to see his haunting face and read his expression. “Of course, Your Majesty. I am here to help you with your transition onto the throne.”
The prince swivels back around. Even after listing their dissimilarities, I am still unprepared for how closely he resembles his father. Don’t be a fledgling. He isn’t Tarek.
“I cannot express how grateful I am that you’re here,” says Prince Ashwin. “I was worried you would decline to come for the tournament.”
I go still, my stomach lurching with unease. “What tournament?”
The prince flashes a startled look at Brother Shaan. “You said you would tell her.”
“Tell me what?” I demand, my voice rising.
Brother Shaan gestures at Opal, a half wave. “You may go now.” She hops to her feet and scoots for the door.
“Tell me what?” I call after her as she leaves. I fix Brother Shaan with an impatient glower. “What is this about? What tournament?”
Prince Ashwin toys nervously with a gold cuff around his wrist. “The sovereigns of the neighboring countries are alarmed by Hastin’s insurgence. They want to see him displaced and his rebel army stopped. They agree we require aid, but not on how much and who will supply it.”
“We need allies,” says Brother Shaan, “but the other rulers are reluctant to risk their manpower and resources without being invested in Ashwin’s new empire. Sultan Kuval offered to host a trial tournament to determine who would be responsible for aiding us. All four sovereigns will submit one female competitor to vie as a representative from their nation. Ashwin consented on the condition that he could select the competitor from Tarachand. Your reputation is hailed all over the continent, and as the current kindred, your continued reign would assure our people’s cooperation.”
“What’s the reward for winning?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“My kindred’s throne,” Prince Ashwin replies with a bright smile that does not warm me. “The champion will have the honor of marrying me.”
“I don’t want to marry you.” Prince Ashwin frowns in hurt. Has he already envisioned me as his wife? I will have to put a stop to that right away. “I don’t want the throne.”
Brother Shaan licks his lips with cautious hope. “You must see the diplomatic advantage the other sovereignties would gain should one of their competitors win. The Tarachand Empire is the largest territory on the continent and has the richest resources. Prince Ashwin has promised to open trade negotiations once he is seated on the throne and offered a treaty of arms in support of lessening tensions. The sultan has agreed to provide bhuta military aid, regardless of the tournament’s outcome. It’s in all our best interests to bind states in defense against the rebel insurgents.”
His diplomatic reasoning does not explain the need for a tournament. “Why doesn’t the prince wed a wife from each sovereign?”
“I recommended that,” Prince Ashwin insists. “I suggested the champion be my first wife, and the other contenders would be my second, third, and fourth wives, according to the succession of their performance in the tournament. But Sultan Kuval felt the strongest alliance should remain solely between us and the champion’s nation. Too many competing agendas would frustrate the purpose for uniting nations, which is to defend against our common threat—the warlord.”
Brother Shaan finishes the explanation. “All Sultan Kuval requests is that Princess Citra has a chance to contend for the throne. Female representatives from Lestari and Paljor will arrive soon to compete.”
“I swore I would never step foot in the arena again.” Of the three of us, only I have fought and killed in a tournament. My memories of the bloody duels dredge up horrors I have struggled to bury. I will not relive them.
“This will be unlike your rank tournament,” assures Brother Shaan. “Each contender will be tested in a series of challenges intended to find the most worthy queen. The final test will remain a traditional match between the last two competitors, a duel to first blood.”
Back home, “first blood” means competitors battle until someone’s throat is slit. But a series of trials would be less life threatening. “What will these trials be?”
“We don’t know particulars,” answers Brother Shaan. “Sultan Kuval will devise them.”
“Then you cannot guarantee this will be different than my rank tournament!” I hear how rancorous I sound, and with great effort, I level my voice. “What happens if I refuse?”
“We haven’t considered that outcome,” Prince Ashwin admits. “You’re the only rani who escaped Vanhi. We have no one else.”
“Then I suggest you get used to the idea of wedding a foreigner.” I storm for the door.