I hadn’t exactly lied to Con—I was anxious to get back to the business of running my realm. I felt good physically, and there was so much to do to put Calanthe to rights again. More important, I had no desire to spend any more time on my own emotional flailing. Personal feelings weren’t relevant, as my father would say. The only feelings of mine that deserved attention were those regarding the throne.
My job now was to rebuild Calanthe and give Con the best chance at rescuing the captive royals. The more I buried myself in my duties and responsibilities, the easier it would be for me to continue that way once Con returned to Oriel. I refused to let this man who’d walked into my life only weeks before leave a hole when he left. Because leave he would, and I doubted he’d be back.
As we neared the palace, I made mental lists, arranging and rearranging the order of priority of the areas of Calanthe with the worst damage and greatest need of attention first. Taking refuge in logic and order soothed me, and I was ready to put ideas into action.
However, we returned to a festival in progress. Before we even reached the palace grounds, raucous sounds filtered through the usually quiet forest. When we emerged into the gardens, well … it seemed half of Calanthe had come to the palace, the party raging at full steam and apparently growing larger by the moment as people streamed into the gardens from all directions.
Con had his bagiroca in hand and Sondra brought her horse up to flank my other side, her sword drawn, before I fully processed the scene. “What is this?” Con growled.
“Not an attack,” Sondra answered doubtfully, “as it looks to be all Calantheans.”
I looked between the pair of them, incredulous. “It’s a party,” I explained, drawing the word out to imply they might not be familiar with it.
They pinned me with identical glowers. “Did you plan this?” Con demanded, still suspicious.
I managed to keep a straight face. “I believe it may be spontaneous.”
“Why aren’t your guards putting up barriers, controlling the crowd?” Con asked.
Restraining a sigh of exasperation, I waved a hand at the gardens, which gave way to the tiers of houses gracefully cascading to the harbor below. “This belongs to everyone on Calanthe. Except for a few places that require security, we don’t bar anyone. Really, it’s fine.” But I let go of the idea that I’d get any work done that evening. “Everyone deserves a bit of celebration, yes?”
“Seems like that’s about all the Calantheans do,” Con replied. They both relaxed somewhat, though neither looked particularly pleased. “News travels fast,” Sondra commented sourly.
“Yeah,” Con said. “I get how the temple people knew you’d fixed Calanthe, but how did these folks know?”
I shrugged cheerfully. “They felt it.”
Sondra muttered something about creepy landscapes, and Con flashed her a grin. By then, my people had spotted us and surged forward, shouting tributes and praise.
“Please don’t bash anyone over the head,” I said to Con.
“I thought you said this was a party,” he complained. “How is that any fun?”
Even Sondra laughed, though she still surveyed the surging mass of rowdy celebrants with glittering suspicion. To forestall further argument, I dismounted, springing lightly to the gravel path and ignoring Con’s curse at my making myself vulnerable. Bright Ejarat, but it felt wonderful to have my body healthy and strong again. I even moved speedily enough to dodge Sondra’s grab for me, holding out my arms to the crowd.
It wasn’t long before I sensed the pair of them at my back, my stalwart protectors. Nearly overwhelmed by my ebullient people, I paid Con and Sondra little attention, giving one person after another the opportunity to bow over the orchid ring, inhale its fragrance, all of us offering praise to Calanthe.
It did my heart good, truly, to walk among my people and share in their joy. Maybe Con was right that there were different kinds of love. Perhaps it had been selfish and greedy of me to long for more. I’d been born to duty—created deliberately for it—and my personal happiness didn’t matter. There was work ahead, not just for Calanthe, but to restore the world if Con and his people succeeded. I needed to focus on that.
This is what matters, I told myself. This love is all you need. I walked among them for quite some time, passing along orders to bring out food and wine, enjoying the spontaneous revelry.
After a while—and after it seemed that every one of the thousands present had greeted me—Ibolya appeared at my elbow, offering me an iced wine. I took it uncertainly, though I’d grown exceedingly warm and was terribly thirsty. The sun, though lowering quickly to sunset, blazed in the cloudless sky, making it stiflingly warm in the gardens thronged with people, well away from the cooling coastal breezes.
“Just try a sip, Your Highness,” Ibolya urged, “to see if You can keep it down. If so, I’ll bring You actual food.”
I smiled with gratitude and chagrin. Silly of me to imagine Ibolya hadn’t known exactly how much I had—and hadn’t—been eating. “Thank you.”
For privacy, I moved to a bench under a flowering tree, the shade cool and lovely, the rosy panicles falling all around like a gentle rain. Sondra kept an eye on me while Kara spoke with Con, Vesno flopped at his feet, tongue lolling. Reporting on their ships, no doubt. I sat with a grateful sigh. At least the boots, though high-heeled enough to give me some height, didn’t hurt to stand in for long periods. I sipped the wine, light and icy, perfectly refreshing. Ibolya watched me carefully, and I waited for my stomach to react, but I seemed to be restored. “It’s excellent, and I think I’ll be fine.”
“Allow me to fetch Your Highness something to eat then.” Ibolya turned to go.
“Not just yet. Sit with Me.” She obediently joined me, though with an odd hesitation in her manner. I eyed her. “Are you angry with Me?”
Her dark eyes flew to mine in shock before she demurely lowered them again. “It’s not my place to have feelings about You one way or the other, Your Highness.”
They were so like my father’s words—and so clearly misguided—that I experienced a flash of unease before putting it firmly away.
“Oh, fuck that,” I replied tartly, shocking her again. “Let Me apologize to you, for putting you on the spot with your sister ladies-in-waiting. Being singled out for favor can be very difficult.”
“I don’t mind that, Your Highness,” she rushed to say, fingers fidgeting with her skirts. “Well, everyone was shocked that You were so severe, but I think that, once they order their thoughts, they’ll be here to appeal to You.”
“Then what is bothering you?” I asked gently. “Speak freely and be honest. If you would prefer not to continue to serve Me, then you may go with My blessing and goodwill. You’ve already done far more than most.”
“I don’t wish to leave Your service,” Ibolya said with perfect sincerity.
“Perhaps a holiday? I will be recruiting more ladies, regardless of what the others decide, so that none of you need shoulder the entire burden of tending Me.”
“It has been no burden, but an honor, Your Highness.” She smiled uncertainly. “These last days I’ve felt truly more useful than ever before. I mean,” she added hastily, “not that tending to You was ever trivial. It’s just that I—”
“I understand,” I interrupted gently. “Better to just say what’s on your mind.”
“I hesitate to pry, but—I believe Your Highness does not intend to travel to Yekpehr with Conrí on the rescue mission?”
The smell of smoldering vurgsten seemed to fill my nose, my throat choking on the foul smoke, the sick sensation of my lifeblood draining away. “I cannot,” I managed to say. I cleared my throat, feeling very like Con. He heard me, giving me a questioning look. I waved him off. “I cannot leave Calanthe again.”
“I did not intend to suggest that Your Highness should,” Ibolya hastened to say. “But—if Your other ladies return in time—I’d like to request to go on the rescue mission.”
My turn to be shocked. I gazed at her, quite unable to summon a response. “You wish to go with Conrí and the others?”
She lifted her pert chin and nodded. “Lady Agatha is determined to go, and there will be Lady Rhéiane to tend. And many others perhaps. I could be useful to them.”
“You are useful to Me,” I said softly, and she flushed.
“I appreciate that You find me so, and if You do not wish me to go, I won’t.”
I didn’t want her to go. Of all my ladies, Ibolya had earned my implicit trust. Even should the others return, I wouldn’t feel the same way about them. But her eyes shone with determination and a hint of that same ferocity that drove Con, Sondra, Kara, and even Ambrose and Merle. Ibolya wanted to do more than dress and bathe people, and who could blame her? I certainly wouldn’t be so small as to thwart her out of selfishness.
“You realize this will be very dangerous, this mission,” I cautioned, and she started nodding before I even finished. I held up a hand to stop her. “More so than rescuing Me. That effort succeeded out of sheer audacity and wild luck. Anure and his wizards will be prepared this time. The same strategy won’t work twice. I don’t know how this will be accomplished, but there will likely be casualties. It could be that none of you will return.” I swallowed against that fear, the hollowing sense of loss that Con might die—something I hadn’t allowed myself to think about too much. He was still watching me, a line between his dark brows. I smoothed my expression, missing my heavy makeup, if only for that. “You should also know: Your abilities won’t work there. I lost Mine.”
“I know, Your Highness,” she replied softly. “I felt that as soon as I left Calanthe’s waters, even though my magic has never been very strong. I can’t imagine how terrible it was for You, on top of everything else.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to reply. Her bravery shamed me.
“I want to learn to do without that magic,” Ibolya continued. “Lady Sondra is a force without it. If the mission is successful, then there will be a great deal to do in the larger world. They might need my help, and I’ll have to do that without magic. I can’t help make this a better world by staying here on Calanthe for the rest of my life.”
I decided not to mention that assisting me in ruling Calanthe did help make at least our small corner of the world better—and that I had plans to extend my reach, if possible. “Then of course you have My permission to go,” I said instead.
“Only if Your Highness has other ladies to attend You.”
I waved that off. “I’m not an infant who requires constant care,” I said with some irritation. “I won’t starve in My bed because no one came to wake Me.” A bit too apt, that metaphor, as I’d nearly done exactly that. I would be left alone, without Con, or even Sondra’s acerbic company. Never mind that—I would be far too busy setting Calanthe to rights again to have a moment alone, much less unwanted solitude. After all, I’d lived that way for years before Con set boots on my soil. I would be fine.
“Of course, Your Highness.” Ibolya bowed her head, chastened.
“I appreciate the thought, however,” I added and she smiled. Harmony between us restored, I told her to send some food via a servant and sent her off to enjoy the party, with strict instructions not to show her face to me before morning.
Sondra went off with Kara, and Con returned to me, sitting where Ibolya had, extending his long legs. Vesno flopped onto his belly and scooched under the bench, releasing a happy sigh. “What was that all about?” Con asked.
“I imagine Vesno is hot and tired, with all that running around and excitement.”
Con gave me a look. “With Ibolya.”
“Girl talk,” I replied coyly, laughing when he scowled at me.
“You were upset,” he said, taking my hand and lacing my fingers with his. “More about Tertulyn and Calla?”
I decided not to ask how he knew I’d been upset. My masks never had worked as well with him as I’d have liked. “Ibolya requested permission to go with you to Yekpehr.”
“Why?” He glanced over sharply. “You haven’t changed your mind about coming along, have you?”
“What would you say if I did want to come?” I asked, mostly out of morbid curiosity.
“I’d talk you out of it,” he replied promptly. “You’re safer here on Calanthe.”
Perversely that made me want to insist on going. “If I decided to go, you would not be able to talk Me out of it.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “So if I don’t want you to come along, I should try insisting that you’re going to, like it or not.”
“Oh, I am not that bad,” I huffed.
“Pretty damn close.” He grinned and lifted my hand, kissing the back of it.
A group of servants swept up, producing a small table and array of food, all arranged with elegant speed and efficiency. Con looked at the food and back to me, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “Good,” he said, leaving it at that.
“There’s plenty for both of us.” I put some fruit on a plate, and fresh bread with honey, nibbling slowly.
“You should eat more than that,” Con said, helping himself to a generous helping of lobster pie.
“I’m pacing Myself,” I replied tartly. “Don’t push.”
He ran a hand down my arm in apology. “I’m sure it’s not easy to get used to food again.” For his part, he wolfed down that portion and took another.
“Indeed, but I could hardly plan to feed from you forever.”
“You could, you know.” He gave me a somber look, his face expressive of that artless love he offered so effortlessly. I envied his courage in that, as in so many things. “I would, if you needed it.”
“I know.” And I couldn’t help the heavy sigh that followed.
“That shouldn’t make you sad, Lia,” he said gently. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. That’s a good thing.”
But he wouldn’t be there for me. He’d be gone to Yekpehr, and then to Oriel. And even if I used his feelings—for me or, worse, for our child—to bring him back to me on Calanthe, I’d feel like the stone around his neck. Ambrose had put it well, that Con was the hero who captained the ship we rode on. A great destiny lay before him, and I’d been a stepping-stone on that journey. It was lowering to realize that I was only the witch on the island the great hero visits, just one episode of many in his epic story. The best and bravest thing I could do would be to let him go.
“It is a good thing,” I told him with the warmest smile I could generate. “But I’m glad that I’ll be able to eat while you’re off on the grand rescue mission.”
“Yeah.” He frowned thoughtfully. “So, you were saying that Ibolya wants to go?”
Having eaten as much as I could, I set my plate aside. “She does. I think she has some idea of being a hero. She admires Sondra. And apparently Agatha is determined to go, which contributed to Ibolya’s decision.”
Con raised a brow at that. “Agatha, huh? I hadn’t heard that yet. I’m surprised. Yekpehr was hard on her.”
“The place has that effect.” At my dry tone, Con took my hand, stroking the back of it with the fingers of his other hand, very lightly, as if testing the texture of my skin.
“It does, which is the main reason I agree you shouldn’t go. I don’t want you to have to see that place ever again,” he said, voice rough with emotion.
I hated the creeping sensation that if I weren’t so weak, such a fragile flower, so easily crushed, that if I had more real spine and courage, I would go. “I gave Ibolya My permission,” I said, “though, naturally, the final decision is yours.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Of course I’ll take her help. I want a small strike team, but she could be useful, depending on our final plan.”
“What did Kara have to say?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d seen Percy in the crowd, drinking iced bubbling wine and regaling a group with some tale that had them roaring with laughter, but he hadn’t approached me. Clearly still sulking.
“The Last Resort is ready to go. We also have a few smaller fishing boats that are more or less seaworthy—or will be in another day.”
“How much less than more?”
“Probably a critical amount,” he admitted.
“But you don’t want to delay for further repairs,” I said, not a question at all.
“I don’t think we can afford to.” He stroked the back of my hand thoughtfully, tracing the bones with one rough fingertip. “I also chatted with Ambrose some.”
“Did you? I missed that.”
“You were busy receiving the adulation of your besotted subjects.”
“Be nice.” I narrowed my eyes threateningly.
“My middle name,” he assured me somberly, but his dimple winked into existence.
“Ha to that. Anyway, Ambrose said…?”
“He seems to think that the work you did with Calanthe will alert the wizards that you’re still alive,” Con was saying, not noticing my distraction. “Something about it resonating through the alternate realms of magical reality blah blah blah.”
“Ah, yes, I see.” I nodded very seriously.
“All joking aside,” Con continued, “Ambrose and Merle—which still makes my head hurt to picture him as more than a bird—want to make a plan with you to defend against potential attack by the wizards while we’re gone. Just in case. I don’t think you need to be too worried, but it’s another reason for you to stay on Calanthe, as your magic is strongest here.”
I nodded in agreement. Not just strongest, but existing at all. “All right,” I said mildly. “We can discuss further as we sort out the particulars of the plan.”
“That was too easy.”
“I happen to have come independently to the same conclusion,” I informed him. The work I’d done with Tertulyn, too, had to have alerted them—and already those questing needles of wizard magic had resumed, testing the wards embedded in Calanthe’s boundaries by generations of my ancestors. For now they held, but I would have to strengthen them, and soon.
“I guess that’s a good dodge around agreeing with me,” he teased, smiling. “Still, I don’t think anyone will be concentrating on unpleasant business tonight, but maybe tomorrow you could convene one of your famous early-morning breakfast strategy meetings?”
“Famous?” I arched a brow. “I thought you hated that I set those meetings so early.”
“I did, but I—” He stopped, gave me a sharp look. “You did that on purpose to piss me off?”
“No!” I protested, but I blew it by laughing. “Just to yank your chain a bit,” I confessed.
“I can’t believe you.” Putting a hand behind my neck, he pulled me close for a sudden, intense, and very deep kiss that heated quickly to flash point. Applause and cheers rose around us, and he let me go, both of us acknowledging the crowd somewhat sheepishly.
“Just for that,” he informed me, “I expect those almond pastry things.”
“Obviously. One can’t plan to overthrow an empire without almond pastry things.”
He grinned at me. “Obviously.” Standing, he pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go check out the dancing.”
“Dancing?”
“A hot new fashion. I hear it’s fun, and the queen enjoys it.”
“Well, if the queen approves, then how could we fail to emulate Her?”
“Indeed,” he replied in a fake posh tone, pulling me along.
“I’m not really dressed for it,” I pointed out. I still wore my wrap gown, leggings, and boots, having never extracted myself from the celebrating crowd so I could go change.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” I decided, “it doesn’t.” All that mattered was enjoying the little time I had left with the love of my life before I nobly gave him up to his great destiny.
Con was gone from our bed when I woke at dawn, though I hadn’t heard Ibolya fetch him. He was no doubt off making plans, fired up to begin his mission, to pursue his delayed vengeance. I’d slept soundly and peacefully, blessedly free of nightmares, so I shouldn’t feel this listlessness. I definitely didn’t want to start missing him now, because soon I wouldn’t have him at all.
To dispel the clinging depression, I reached for the dreamthink—and Calanthe answered immediately, with rich sensory detail. The animals sang to me of their nighttime adventures and the freshness of morning. Flowers bloomed, fruit ripened, and people slept still or went about their activities. Though the damaged places around the island still felt like bleeding wounds, they also itched with healing energy—and called to me for attention.
Spurred into a sense of purpose—and feeling better for it—I threw back the covers, drew on my silk robe, and went to the outer chambers. Ibolya came from the bathing rooms, smiled and curtsied. “Good morning, Your Highness. The realm welcomes the sun of Your presence.”
“An appropriate adaptation to changed circumstances,” I replied, eyeing her attire. She’d left her hair loose and natural, though more studded with flowers than before. She’d also gone with an unstructured and more revealing gown. Emulating my fashion and setting one for the court, as a good lady-in-waiting should do.
“Thank You, Your Highness. Your bath is prepared, and I’ve set out several possible gowns for today. I wasn’t sure how You would want to dress Your hair.” She canted her head to look, and I obligingly turned in a circle. “It doesn’t appear to need washing or combing.”
“Like magic,” I agreed. “One less chore for you.”
“Tending You has never been a chore, Your Highness,” she protested.
“I misspoke. I apologize.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation, and I found myself smiling back at her. Somewhere along the way, it seemed we’d become actual friends—and I’d learned to value that. An irony there, that I’d finally made some real connections with people, and they would all be leaving me.
Lest I fall into self-pity again, I hastened to bathe and dress. I wanted to visit the map tower before the breakfast strategy meeting, and I needed to do what I could to reinforce the ancient wards. Once I was ready for the day, which looked to be a long one, I tasked Ibolya to put things in place and send messages to everyone to meet in an hour.
Despite her protests, I went to the map tower alone. I needed the quiet to work, and to make myself accustomed to aloneness again. I’d visited the map of Calanthe with Dearsley the morning before, but even so it distressed me to see the changes to my beautiful island.
The map, tiled in loving detail over the wide floor of the circular tower, lay mostly in shadow with the sun barely tipping over the horizon, but here and there the gleaming tiles glittered. Magically maintained by a dedicated team of artisans, the map reflected the current state of Calanthe with unflinching candor.
I paced the circumference once, reaching for the dreamthink and putting my attention to a place somewhere between the magic that continuously updated the representation of the land and my sense of the island itself as it spoke to me.
On that first circuit, I concentrated on the enchantments protecting Calanthe. They responded to my will with ease, as if I’d been manipulating them all my life, accepting the intentions I layered in. I added elements of granite from my bedrock, the yielding yet eroding power of water, the tensile strength of plants, the ferocity of an animal defending its den. I’d told Con and his people that the layers of defenses couldn’t keep out a vurgsten attack, but they could prevent magical ones. The wizards would not be using magic against me. Not easily.
On the second circuit, I created a barrier of another kind, this one temporary and all my own. No birds would fly off Calanthe until I allowed free passage again. I had no doubt that plenty of Anure’s spies still infested my court. Tertulyn might be gone, but countless others—mostly cheerfully cavalier opportunists—remained. I couldn’t excise them all, but I could keep them from reporting on our plans to Anure.
On the third circuit, I extended myself into the physical landscape of the island, seeking out the damages. I flinched from those aching wounds, and had to exercise my will to stay focused on them, like holding my hand to hot flame while it burned me. It was one thing to hear the stories, to read the list of damages, to observe the changes on the map, and another to feel them for myself.
Once lovely Cradysica still smoked in places where the forest had burned. The hillside temple, the docks, and so many other once gracious buildings were in rubble. But they were no longer the worst off. I studied the low marshlands on the western side of Calanthe, where flooding continued unabated, several villages perhaps permanently consigned to the sea. At least eight of the smaller islands off the northern shore had vanished under the waves. And I made myself look long and hard at the eastern cliffs—fortunately sparsely populated—which had sheared off entirely, leaving a raw wound of a new and jagged coastline.
This is what you wrought, I reminded myself—both me the queen and my larger self of the island. This is the price we paid for our role in the revolution. It would be up to me to do everything I could to ensure that the price bought us a world worth having.
Kicking off my heels, I knelt down to splay my hands over the eastern cliffs. They were unstable still, with huge boulders shuddering down, and slowly drying mudslides settling into villages in the valleys inland.
The orchid ring fluttered, acting like a smaller extension of my mind, allowing me to reach into that part of the land. I found the weakness in the rocks, where they slid in different directions, perilously close to shearing off in greater chunks, and with careful attention, I knit them together again.
It felt like healing my own body, mending the break, sending the healing energy to stabilize and strengthen. Satisfied, I knelt up, pleased to have done at least one small thing to fix my realm.
“Your Highness?”
I turned to find Ibolya waiting, noted the sun had risen quite a bit. “Am I late?”
“Not quite yet, but the others are already congregating in the Sand Salon.”
“Understood.” Standing, I slipped on my heels again, Ibolya kneeling to lace them for me.
She glanced up at me, tentative. “Your other ladies have returned and seek an audience.”
I hadn’t expected them so soon. “All of them?”
“Yes, Your Highness. They await Your pleasure. Would You like to interview them?”
“No need. They may escort Me to the Sand Salon.” I would make use of them, and I would be wiser in the doing of it. I only wished it didn’t hurt my heart so much to contemplate how short-lived their affection for me had been. The lesson I was to learn, apparently, the depths and shallows of love and loyalty. Besides which, their presence would liberate Ibolya, who deserved that opportunity. “I’ll meet with them later to discuss their expanded duties.”
“Them, but not me, Your Highness?” Ibolya asked.
“You are released from My service,” I told her with an affectionate smile. “I expect heroic tales.”
“Oh, I doubt it will be anything like that, Your Highness.” But her eyes sparkled with excitement, and I envied her a little.