“Inspecting the defenses yet again?”
Ursula’s question startled me, as I’d been so deep in thought I’d missed her approach. From my vantage on the walls of Castle Ordnung, I’d been contemplating the lush, green, and apparently peaceful countryside. The early onset of summer seemed to please the locals. For farmers and merchants, the fair weather brought welcome warmth for crops and dry roads for trade.
For a warrior like me, dry roads meant enemy forces could reach the seat of the Thirteen Kingdoms all that much more easily—and fair weather only made it easier to pillage freely and set fire to the rest.
I didn’t let Ursula see she’d surprised me—or the dark direction of my thoughts. As High Queen of the Thirteen Kingdoms, she had enough to think about. “It pays to be thorough,” I told her, making sure I looked relaxed.
“And here you’re always nattering at me to delegate. Don’t you have lieutenants to handle this?” she asked in an arch tone, her gaze as piercing as a hawk’s. Sometimes her eyes are steely, like the sword she’d slept with when I met her, and other times they soften to gray with hints of blue, like the fog that rises out of the valleys of the Wild Lands in the mountains beyond Ordnung.
I’ve never told her that, as she’d be embarrassed—and would likely try to hide that softness from me. My Essla—as her sisters called her, an intimate nickname I loved—learned long ago to compensate for her early wounds with tensile strength and hardening her heart.
Her tough resilience only added to Ursula’s unique beauty. The rising sun set her deep auburn hair on fire, gilding her high cheekbones and that strong nose I’d set with my own hands after her father broke it. Dressed for court—though she had yet to don her crown—she wore a streamlined and high-necked gown of black velvet. A bodice of worked silver hugged her waist and flared over her elegant breasts, finishing with stylized caps at the shoulders. One of her mother’s rubies glittered at the low dip in the center, where a pendant might rest on another woman.
Overall, the bodice gave the impression of armor, and Ursula’s sheathed sword hung from the belt incorporated into the metalwork, the ruby in its hilt a perfect match to the one at her breast. The split skirt of the gown parted to reveal narrow silver leggings and high black leather boots beneath, allowing Ursula the freedom of movement she craved, even though she’d be waging battles of wits in the day ahead, not of arms.
We’d only returned a few weeks back, to fortify Ordnung and for Ursula to direct war strategy from the seat of the High Throne. To Ursula’s vocal and caustic dismay, she had also returned to a veritably endless supply of gowns appropriate for court. The dressmaker, Denise, and her army of seamstresses had been hard at work during our journeys, creating formal garb so well designed for Ursula that she couldn’t find fault with them, beyond that they weren’t her preferred fighting leathers. With no excuses to do otherwise, Ursula had conceded that particular battle and looked more often the High Queen these days than road-worn warrior princess.
She always looked beautiful to me, so unlike the meek, submissive, and gentle-voiced women of my homeland. In fact, in all my travels, I’d never met another woman like my Essla, another lover of the sword, and as determined as I to wield it for justice.
Just as the first time I’d laid eyes on Ursula, my heart swelled in my chest, filled with the undying love I’d sworn to her service. I’d never regret that I’d given up loyalty and all connection to the blighted homeland of my birth when I’d sworn the Elskastholrr to Ursula. That vow—which must be freely given and never requested—had become my compass and foundation.
But I did sometimes wonder how much of the love I felt for her grew from the tattered shreds of guilt and remorse where the love for my sister Jenna had once lived in my heart—and had been ripped away when she disappeared.
In countless small ways, Ursula reminded me of Jenna, whom I’d never forgotten, though I had finally stopped searching for her. I’d kept her existence and fate my personal secret all these years, locked in a box in my heart, where no one could ever open it.
Where the wounds inflicted by the cruel world had nearly killed Jenna before our insane escape attempt, they’d honed Ursula into a weapon. Jenna had possessed no fighting skills, no knowledge of the world outside the Imperial seraglio. Both princesses and heirs to powerful parents, Jenna and Ursula could not be more different.
Perhaps Jenna had survived to go on and find something of Ursula’s ferocity. Probably that was a foolish and idealistic hope. Jenna was no doubt dead. Yet I couldn’t help wishing otherwise.
“Harlan?” Ursula asked, when I failed to reply to her question. She tipped her head, studying me with a too-knowing gaze, a wealth of other questions crowding her simple asking of my name.
I shook my head, willing the old memories, the miasma of nostalgia—and dread of the future—to go back to the shadows where they belonged. She’d asked me about delegating, a rich question coming from her, who thought she had to handle every cursed thing herself.
“You put me in charge of Ordnung’s defenses,” I reminded her. “And I’m very good at my job. Let me decide what can be delegated and what requires direct supervision.”
She smiled slightly, more of a thin-lipped grimace than anything, as she stepped up to stare out over the walls and the road to the township along with me. “It wasn’t a criticism,” she replied mildly. “I’ve received a message from Andi,” she said, seeming to change the subject, though I knew this must be why she’d sought the solace of the walls.
“Ah. And how is my heart-sister?” The message held bad news, no doubt, as we seemed to have only that variety of messages lately. And, as Queen of the Tala, Andi lived at the heart of the brewing storm.
Sure enough, Ursula huffed out a sharp, impatient breath, stepping away from me. “Carelessly overextending herself, as usual.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” I replied, smiling easily when she glared at me. “I have to point out that you’re supposed to be resting before court, not checking up on Ordnung’s defenses.”
She narrowed her gaze at me, eyes sharpening. “How do you know I didn’t come up here looking for you?”
I lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Did you?”
Giving me that thin-lipped smile, she turned to sweep her gaze over the pastoral scene below us, if one could consider a fully-armed castle with guards at high alert ‘pastoral.’ “I thought you’d be drilling with the guard,” she admitted. She was scrupulous about being honest with me, determined to never again cross lines she thought had nearly destroyed our relationship before. Though I’d explained countless times that nothing could damage my love for her, the rejected and abandoned child who still lived in Ursula’s heart would never believe it. All I could do was give her that love without reserve or qualification.
“And before you get annoyed with me,” she said, bristling at my expression, “I wasn’t checking up on the defenses so much as…” she trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Reassuring yourself that all is as it seems?” I suggested, and held out an arm for her, so she’d lean against me for a bit. She gave me a relieved smile, real affection in it, coming to me with at least that much trust.
“You always understand me—often before I understand myself.” She snuggled against me, letting out a long breath. “I hate that the practitioners of Deyrr can mess with our minds. I’m more comfortable with an enemy I can predict. And one I can skewer with my sword.”
I hugged her close, her slim form and long bones nearly delicate, though I knew better than most how fast she could strike when provoked, and how lethally. “I do understand—and agree,” I told her.
She tipped her head against my cheek, so I kissed her temple, giving her the comfort she’d never ask for, her fiery hair always surprising me with its silky texture. It had grown longer since I’d met her. Tamed for court by her ladies, it lay in sleek waves and ended in wisps down her neck.
“Andi reports that the Tala are gathered and the navy assembled,” she returned to her point. “Now that Karyn and Zyr have recovered somewhat from their ordeal, Kiraka has been interrogating them about what they found.”
I grunted in sympathy. Kiraka was an old dragon—literally—and as cantankerous as they came.
“It’s bad.” Ursula said it so softly I almost didn’t hear. “Andi expects an attack on Annfwn at any time.”
“But the magic barrier is still holding, yes? The Dasnarian navy is still on the other side.”
“At last report that seems to be the case, but the ships are massing there as if they expect that to change and soon.”
I held her, glad she’d come to me. “We have a lot of might on our side, too. We’ve done everything we can to prepare.”
“I know.”
She did. We’d both known most of this. The waiting was what wore on us. She shook herself and stood straight. “Andi warned me to expect attack here. The Deyrr sleepers might have infiltrated deep into all the Thirteen Kingdoms. They’re waiting to spring some sort of trap on us all, or they would’ve attacked already.”
“If they do we’ll fight back. We’re ready for them—and not so easy to surprise.”
With a brief smile, she turned back to gaze over her realm. “I wish I could be so sure. Of everything.”
Something about the way she said that—some intuition perhaps—sent a brush of alarm that made my short hairs prickle. Something else was on her mind, and it wasn’t good.