Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(102)

INNISFUIL VALLEY




“Mirabella has returned,” says Katharine, once she and Pietyr are inside the relative safety of her tent. “And if she is here, it is a sure bet that Arsinoe is lurking somewhere as well.”

“It does not matter, Kat. They are defectors. Traitors. You are the Queen Crowned. The people will fight for you; they will never follow them—”

Katharine scoffs. “The same way they would never follow a naturalist with the legion curse? They will follow anyone if it means the end of me.”

In the camp, the queensguard searches for survivors of the mist. They are good soldiers and shed themselves quickly of their fear, righting tents and catching horses. Rho has not stopped barking orders since she returned the queen to her quarters.

Katharine peeks through the tent flap. “So many dead.” She hugs herself tightly. “I just wanted to be a good queen.”

“Oh, Kat.” Pietyr takes her in his arms. “You are a good queen. All you have done is your duty, and it is neither right nor fair that you should be hated for it.”

“Hated,” she whispers. “And feared.” Slowly, she strips her gloves from her hands and flexes her fingers. They are alive. Covered in scars but alive, and hers again. “The dead queens wielded the knife that cut the legion curse from Madrigal Milone. This was as much their fault as the mist’s.” She drops her hands. “And it was mine, for not listening to you sooner. For not trying harder to control them.”

The tent flap bursts open, around High Priestess Luca. Unharmed by the mist and unruffled as ever.

“A moment of the queen’s time?”

“Of course, High Priestess.” Pietyr walks to the table for a cup of poisoned wine. “How pleased we are to see you have survived the spread of the mist.”

The old woman’s mouth twists wryly. “No doubt just as pleased as you are about certain other survivals.”

“What do you want?” Katharine asks. “To turn in your council seat? Change sides again and run back to your precious Mirabella?”

Luca stares at the crown inked into Katharine’s forehead. How bitterly she must regret placing it there. But place it she did.

“A queen once crowned,” Luca says, “is crowned forever.”

“So you mean to stay? You will not join the temple to the rebellion?”

“The temple would never join with a rebellion,” Luca snaps. “Not with a rogue queen at its head and certainly not with one who is legion cursed. I will serve on the Black Council for as long as is Queen Katharine’s pleasure.” She folds her hands over her white robes. “But I have come to speak to you about Mirabella.”

“High Priestess, my soldiers are routed. Many wounded or still missing. We are fighting a war on two fronts already, with the naturalist and with the very mist itself. So as much as it might displease her, my sister may just have to wait.”

Luca sighs and glances at Pietyr. “Is there any wine in this tent that is not tainted?”

“Of course.” He reaches for a cup and pours from a green bottle. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” She sips and turns to Katharine. “Do not think of your sisters and the rebels as separate problems. They are one and the same. Traitors or not, with both of them standing beside Jules Milone, the Legion Queen’s rebellion is too strong. It will gain more support. Maybe even enough to take Indrid Down.”

“So what do we do? I will kill them both, as is my right. But when? Not now in the middle of—”

“I would suggest another course,” Luca says. “Consider why Mirabella would support Jules Milone? She is a queen in the blood. She, even more than most, understands that the crown cannot be worn by just anyone.”

“She supports the naturalist because Arsinoe supports the naturalist,” Pietyr says, and Luca nods, her eyes full of meaning. “But you think she is unconvinced.”

Luca takes a large swallow from her cup and walks around them to refill it. “I know my Mira. I raised her. What Natalia Arron was to you, Katharine, I was to her. And she would not in good conscience support the wresting of a crown from a rightful queen.”

“And in her eyes, I am a rightful queen?”

“She and Arsinoe fled,” Luca says. “Abdicated. If not you, then who else?”

“Even if she does feel that way,” Pietyr interjects. “What of it? She stands with the rebels.” He narrows his eyes. “You think she can be brought over.”

“No.” Katharine glares at her. “Never.”

“Do not be so quick to dismiss the idea,” says Luca. “I have done what I can with the temple, to restore the faith of the people in the Goddess and her rightful queen, but it is not enough. If Jules Milone is seen to have the backing of both of the other queens, you will not win this war.”

Katharine clenches her jaw. She grasps her wrists and rubs at them through her gloves. “I felt the blast of that legion-cursed gift. I may not win either way.”

“What are you truly suggesting, High Priestess?” Pietyr asks with disgust. “That Katharine extend an invitation to Mirabella? To rule together, side by side?”

“Of course not. I am asking that the queen allow her sister to return and fight for her, as a loyal subject and ally.”