I managed not to scowl at her and lobbed the argument back in her lap. “Let me ask you this—who killed King Erich?”
She frowned, suspicious of my direction. “He fell in the conflict, but—”
“Will you be seeking his murderer to bring to justice?”
Sighing out an impatient breath, she tapped her fingers on the table, her nails ragged, with soil beneath. “I see where you’re going with this, but killing a man in battle is not the same thing as assassinating the High King in cold blood.”
“Why not?”
“Librarian, we don’t need to engage in a philosophical discussion.”
“Indulge me. Explain to me how these are not the same sort of battle, simply on a different scale.”
She scowled, gray eyes dark with troubling thoughts, and it seemed everyone in the room held their breath, waiting for her answer. Staying clear of the dragon’s breath. At last she unbent and inclined her chin. “All right. I cannot. Then why shouldn’t I be High Queen, according to your logic?”
“I never said that. You should be and will be. We need you on the High Throne—following an ostentatious coronation ceremony, sanctioned by the Temple, attended by as many witnesses as possible, as soon as we can arrange it.”
She brushed that aside. “That. I don’t have time to—”
“Let me lay it out for you.” I interrupted again before she could dig in on this with me also. In more detail than I had before, I explained the legalities and historical precedents. Ami and Ash arrived as I spoke. She seated herself quietly and Ash took position at her shoulder, leaving the four of us at the table. I understood their being careful of their relative rank and position in the conversation—though Rayfe arguably belonged at the table and simply preferred to prowl—but I didn’t exactly belong there either. Still, I needed the surface to make notes as I spoke. I broke off only when servants returned with food and wine, which no one appeared ready to touch, taking up my case again when they left. No sense spreading word of our tenuous position faster than it would speed anyway.
“So,” I wound up. “This is what I suggest be our order of priorities. One, get the pennants flying again, which means we need one for you as I’m assuming you don’t want to use your father’s.”
“But can I, if I’m not High Queen?” Ursula said it with some acerbity, not pleased, but at least convinced of my points and focusing on the issues. Better.
“Yes. We have precedent there. Uorsin did it before his coronation.”
“You remember that?” Andi asked with interest.
“I do, and I think we should replicate what he did as closely as possible.” I held up a hand to forestall the biting remark Ursula had nocked to fire at me. “Only as regards ceremony and precedent. I’ll get to that. Second, we need to polish up Ordnung. Fix the rose window, plant flowers, get every room cleaned. Create the illusion of prosperity.”
“People are starving out there, librarian,” Ursula broke in. “Some places in chaos. Magic setting off strange changes, on top of our already long-term crises of drought and starvation. Now we have this gryphon and rumors of river monsters and volcanoes rumbling. Not to mention Stefan calling for my head.”
“Which is why you need to present yourself and your rule as competent and flourishing. You are the savior of Ordnung and the Twelve. You’re our hero. You need to step up and be that, even if you don’t feel it.”
“I don’t feel it,” she snapped. Harlan touched her shoulder and she surprised me by leaning into his hand, closing her eyes briefly. Then opened them and fixed me with her hawkish stare. “But I see your point. Continue.”
She reminded me of Uorsin and Salena both as I navigated my way through explaining the rest of my plan. Sometimes by a flicker of her expression, she hinted that she recognized I used her own tactics against her, handling her as I’d so often observed her deft management of the former High King.
I finished summarizing—bring in people from the township if necessary, but get Ordnung in shape for the ceremonies. Stella needed to be acknowledged and named and it wouldn’t hurt to formally repeat it for Astar, as well. Coronation, with renewed treaties and vows of loyalty. Naming of one heir.
“You’ve been thinking about this a great deal,” Ursula finally said, with a slight smile. She had relaxed. Everyone had.
“I had a lot of time to read,” I answered.
“The window should not be Glorianna’s alone,” Ami spoke up for the first time since she’d come in. “Nor should the blessing at the Coronation. If you’re starting a new era, everything you do should reflect all three goddesses equally.”
“Why not?” Ursula returned with a wry grimace. “They got us into this mess, according to you. Fine. We’ll commission a new window today, as that will take some time for the glaziers to make, much as it grates on me to spend resources on something only for show. This window,” she pointed a long finger at Rayfe, who grinned lazily back, “you will not break. Ami, would you design it?”
“I’d be happy to.” She looked delighted, in fact. Perhaps the magic that made her inhumanly beautiful infused her talents also, because Ami had a decided gift for creating beauty. “And for your personal banner, a hawk. With a rabbit in its talons,” she added, mischief glinting in her twilight eyes.
Ursula snorted and shook her head, but Harlan—whose name meant “rabbit” in Dasnarian—smiled in placid appreciation for the joke.
While the more lighthearted mood persisted, I went in for the part she really wouldn’t like. We’d been down this road before and it had turned out badly. “Also, if you’re to be High Queen, you need to dress the part.”
As I’d predicted to myself, she darkened. We both remembered too well how Uorsin had reacted when she wore her mother’s jewels. But that had been the fault of his unstable character, not the plan itself. Never mind that it had been my plan and turned out disastrously. I still believed in it. And in her.
“No more fighting leathers in formal court,” I persisted before she could cut off the conversation. “In fact, until you’re crowned, you should only hold informal court. You don’t need to wear gowns, but you should look like the High Queen, if only then. For the actual coronation though, you should have a gown, an elaborate one that represents who you are as a ruler. One that we can have you painted in, for your formal portrait.”
She visibly cringed—not out of irritation, either—and Harlan stroked a hand over the back of her neck, giving me a warning look. Something about the coronation gown struck a nerve. I didn’t know what, but Harlan did. “She doesn’t have to, not if—”
“I can handle a silly thing like a dress,” Ursula interrupted, brushing the tension from the air like encroaching cobwebs. “I’ll give it thought and decide on something. What else?”
“You need ladies to see to you—your hair, nails, jewels. We need to fix your sword. For the coronation, you’ll need a crown. One that you’ll actually wear. And after,” I took a steadying breath, keeping firm, as compassion wasn’t what she needed from me right then, “you’ll have to sit on the High Throne.”
So much there that she hated. Better to lay out all the pain at once. At least I’d accurately predicted what would disturb her most in that list, making up for my miss on the coronation gown. Her hand had fallen to her sword hilt, where the missing jewel had been. That hurt the worst.
“We could find another topaz,” I told her quietly. “Something that might look the same.”
Her expression shuttered. “No need. I have it. That’s enough.”
“One of the rubies then. We could prize them from the crown jewels.”
Ami and Andi followed the exchange with great interest. Had they known that Ursula had stashed away Salena’s rubies in her wardrobe all those years? Ursula wondered, too, her gaze going to them, each in turn, measuring. “Yes,” she decided. “Prize the jewels from their settings. One for my sword, the others equally divided between Ami and Andi. If that’s allowable within your rules, librarian.”
Not my rules, those of the law, as the queen’s jewels technically belonged to the station, not a person, but I let it go. “The crown?” I prodded.
“I won’t wear his.” She glared at me in defiance, reminding me of the adolescent girl she’d been in those first years after Salena died, full of anger and anguish.
“Fine. You should have your own. Whatever seems right to you. The same with the throne.”
“Truly?” She mulled that over, seeming, for the first time since I’d arrived, hopeful.
“I’d recommend it, in fact. It’s past time to do away with the empty thrones. There should be just one. As rulers of their own kingdoms, Queen Andromeda, King Rayfe, and Queen Amelia hold equal rank to any of the kings and queens of the kingdoms under your rule— they have their own realms, their own concerns—they should not be sitting next to the High Throne unless you plan to give all the kingdoms a chair beside you.” Once Salena died, Uorsin had kept hers ostentatiously present and empty. As they departed, Andi and Ami had left theirs similarly abandoned. A sight that reminded all who viewed them of attrition and loss. Not what we wanted at all.
“I dreamed...” Ursula sounded uncharacteristically uncertain.
“What?” Everyone else stayed quiet, listening.
She shook herself. Looking around at the people gathered. The ones she loved and trusted the most.
“It’s not just about you,” Andi said, in a gentle tone. “The visions our mother gave you, she gave to all of us.”
“You think so?” Ursula sounded more like herself, the pragmatic skeptic.
“Yes,” Ami chimed in, emphatic. “Did you dream of a throne? Tell us about it.”
“When she told me what to do, how to end it all, yes, Salena sat on a throne.” Ursula didn’t much like talking about things not grounded in the real world of flesh and blood, but her voice gained strength as we listened. “It was carved of wood, with intricate vines and flowers. It stood alone.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at Harlan, who simply smiled.
“You know I prefer to stand rather than sit,” was all he said.
“I have some artisans who could carve such a thing in short time,” Rayfe offered. Everyone turned to him in surprise and he affected shock. “What? I support my heart-sister.” His grin turned wolfish. “In exchange for heavy concessions for Annfwn.”
“I’ve found precedent for that,” I offered, less certain here. “We can sit down with the various original treaties among the Twelve—they varied depending on the process of”—I had to clear my throat of old grief and tension—“ah, acquisition.”
“Annfwn will not be acquired.” Rayfe had gone deadly serious, with a lethal edge. Though he remained in human form, the predator looked out of his eyes, making my coward’s heart skip a beat.