Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(54)

“Yes, Queen Katharine.”

They go without complaint, relieved to have a task.

“And what of us?” Genevieve looks between herself and Luca.

Katharine strips off the pretty lace gloves that the Westwoods gave her. She tears the black pearls off over her head and squeezes them between her fingers.

“Genevieve, I need you to send for an oracle.”

“An oracle?”

“Write to Sunpool. Tell them to send their best. Their most gifted. Tell them if they can offer an insight into the mist, they will have a seat on the Black Council as their reward.”

“A council seat?” Genevieve blinks. “Are you sure?”

“Just do it!”

“Right away, Queen Katharine.” She leaves and closes the door softly behind her. Katharine looks at Luca and pours a glass of tainted brandy.

“You must be thrilled. My reign is going so poorly.”

“I would be,” says Luca as Katharine drinks, “if it were going poorly only for you.”

Katharine snorts.

“Well, then. What can the temple do to help?”

“The temple is full of old scholars. We can comb the libraries and the histories, see what we can find.” She steps up beside the queen and knocks their cups together. “And we can pray.”





THE ROAD FROM BASTIAN CITY




By the time Jules, Emilia, and Mathilde leave the village, heading north along the foothills of the Seawatch Mountains, the mood at the inn has changed. After that first night, when they saw Jules guide the knives and saw Camden leap across tables so fiercely, they began to look at her with awe. So much awe that, when they bid farewell to the innkeeper, Jules is almost sure the girl will bow. Though in the end, all she does is a hasty curtsy.

“We’ll spread the word,” the girl says. “And we’ll be ready when you call.” She holds out a parcel, and Camden sniffs the air. “May I?” she asks, and Jules nods. The girl unwraps the fish and lets Camden take it gently between her teeth. “Farewell,” she says.

“Farewell.”

“For now,” says Emilia, and they walk on.

Jules watches Camden up the road, where she has lain down to tear at the fish and purr. “Reminds me of how it was in Wolf Spring. When Arsinoe had her bear. We couldn’t walk into a pub without someone shoving a trout into our arms.”

“Get used to it,” says Emilia. “It is better, is it not? Having them feed your cat instead of spit in your hair for the curse?”

“It is.” The looks on their faces when they saw her use her gifts, her gifts, both of them. Not disgust or even fear. Only hope. All thanks to a silly prophecy and a couple of bards who could carry a fine tune. Still, it felt good. More than that, it had started to feel right.

They pass through three more towns on the road north, and in every village, Emilia and Mathilde find ears willing to listen. They meet in secret, in taverns and country houses. In dark, dusty barns and beside the soft banks of rivers. The people come carrying pitchforks and shovels as though they would be weapons. They see the warrior who has a cougar familiar, and they start to believe.

“What did I tell you?” Emilia says, turning the roasting rabbit on the spit above their campfire as Camden’s mouth waters. “They believe. They want change as badly as we do.”

“But can we win?” Jules turns her own rabbit, a much larger and meatier one than Emilia’s. “With an army of farmers and fishers and all of different gifts? They aren’t soldiers, and they’re as like to fight one another as they are to fight the queensguard.”

“We can win,” says Mathilde. “With enough of the island at our back, we can win.”

In the back of her mind, Jules hears the whisper that the queens are sacred. But she stamps out the thought. Queens are sacred. But these poisoner queens have failed them. They have corrupted the line. Especially Katharine.

“You should go easier on the exaggerations next time, Mathilde,” Emilia says, but across the flames, the seer only grins.

“Why? The crowds love to hear the grand tales. The grander, the better. So what if Jules did not really kill fifty soldiers during the escape from the Volroy cells? So what if her war gift cannot halt one hundred arrows?”

“Nothing as long as they never want a demonstration,” Jules says, and Emilia laughs. “You and the other bards are going to make people think I’m twelve feet tall.”

Mathilde chuckles, and tears a small loaf of bread into four chunks. She tosses them one each, and Jules takes up Camden’s share to press against the side of the rabbit to soak up the juices.

“That is the last of the bread,” Mathilde says. “We will have to go without for a few days. There is nothing between us and the foot of the mountains now.” Nothing, unless they turn south and make for the glen and the Black Cottage. Jules strips off a piece of meat and chews it as she snaps off a quarter haunch for Camden. It is not enough for the cougar. They will have to hunt again before dusk, but with her gift, game is easy to find. This sweet rabbit practically hopped into her arms.

“Up.” Emilia stands and nudges Jules with her foot. “Time to train. You are right about one thing: if we are to carry this off you must truly look like a better warrior than I am.”