80

Rhiannon

Chill wind needles through my coat as my mount’s hooves crack the ice-covered cobbles. Terrible weather for a funeral. I can’t remember it ever being this cold here in Baiseen. It makes me think there could be truth to some of the stories of the second sun. Brogal explained that day by day, it barrels toward Amassia at the speed of lightning, melting ice caps, shifting currents, flipping the weather on its axis. Rubbish, most likely, but I’d be a fool to dismiss even a remote possibility. And I’m no fool.

The thought has me smiling.

I am the Magistrate of all Palrio, holder of the phantom throne of Baiseen. Woodcutters carve the likeness of my beautiful Chrysel into the left arm of the throne as we speak. She will stand out against all the previous phantoms carved there. Her image will be magnificent. This day is magnificent!

Not so much for Petén, though.

“No, love. Not so much for him.” I suspect I’ll miss the man, as much as I could miss any.

Don’t say that in the eulogy.

“Good advice.”

The speech I have prepared, been preparing since our first kiss, in fact, isn’t particularly honest, but I will lie to the people for their own good. However, I must be scathingly candid with myself. I won’t miss Petén past the potential he offered and maybe a few tricks he had in bed. But his purpose was served. He did his part. Peace be his path.

I could never have gained the throne through Marcus, not with his massive phantom, and Ash glued to his side. She’s a snake, that one. Analyzing everything. Watching everyone.

I like her.

“Nonsense. She’s nothing.”

At first, I entertained the idea of Jacas. It would have been possible, though his advisors may have questioned the alliance, especially once his health started to fail. Too risky…but Petén was perfect, and for what he has given me, I am grateful.

For the realm.

“Yes, love. For the realm!”

Jacas was a strong ruler but not immortal. He wouldn’t live forever, and his time was running short. Between Marcus with his unmanageable phantom and Petén the non-savant, Palrio would have crumbled under a continued Adicio rule. My father saw this, peace be his path, and I did, too. We would have succumbed, if not to Tann’s advancing armies, then to the next power-hungry warlord from Gollnar or Sierrak. I’ve done them all a favor. My rule will see the realm not just survive, but prosper.

We reach the cremation grounds, the pyre built high and ready to light. At least that will warm me up. I dismount and hand my horse off to the stablemaster. All of Baiseen is present, from the youngest child of the harbor district to the oldest black-robe. Master Brogal catches my eye and I nod for him to begin. The speeches will take time, and no doubt be tedious, but the occasion marks my first public address as Magistrate. I’m going to make it one they will never forget.

As I take up my torch and walk to the pyre, flanked by Brogal, U’karn, and a dozen black-robes, I smile at the synergy. Peace be your path, husband, and yours, too, Marcus. It is fitting you brothers should leave the world on the same day.

Are you certain they will?

“I am, little love. All is set in motion. The Bone Gatherer will reach Asyleen, but sadly, the Baiseen troops will be too late to back him up. With Atikis lying in wait, he and his party will not see another dawn.”

For the realm?

“For the realm!”