EXCEPT FOR KING Canute, we rushed to the cliff and began to climb, hoping for enough time to reach the pass.
After a minute or two, Lord Tove shouted, “Too late! Descend to level ground!”
I looked back. The dragon had grown to the size of my hand, its shape distinct: wide wings and narrow body. Flame and smoke obscured its head. We hastened back to the valley.
“Oho.” King Canute drew his bowstring and waited, statue-still.
The rest of us fitted arrows, too.
Sir Lerrin loosed the first arrow, which arced and fell, the monster still too far.
The creature ceased flaming. Narrow head, long snout.
Lord Tove shot, and his arrow lodged in the monster’s belly. Except for King Canute, the rest of us shot, too.
To no effect. The dragon flew on, its course unchanged, tiny arrows dangling from its neck and stomach. It began to descend. Its eyes were clear and faceted, like crystal. It seemed to smile.
“Oh-h-h ho-o-o.” King Canute released an arrow.
The dragon shrieked, an arrow in its right eye.
Triumphantly, “Oho!”
A moment later, the dragon landed, flaming. We all drew back. Sweat beaded my face. The armor on my feet and legs scorched me.
It swallowed its flame and, using a claw, pulled the arrow from its eye. Blood streamed and pooled around its scales.
To my astonishment, it said in a fire-roughened voice, “Welcome to Old Lakti.” It raised its wings and performed a bow that was a feat of balance. Then it stared through its one good eye, moving along the line of us. The eye stopped at Drualt. “Bold heart, little one. Merry heart, too. Rare.” It moved on to Annet. “Ah, faithful. Loyal by nature and training. Exemplary.” The eye continued to me. “Mmm. The instigator of everything. Much more than you seem.” The eye passed on to Willem. The head nodded. “You’ll do.”
King Canute stood apart, another arrow nocked.
Grinning and showing saw-edged teeth, the dragon waved its head sinuously from side to side. “Sire, your second arrow won’t hit its mark.”
King Canute followed the head, his entire body swaying. The dragon’s tail whipped out and circled his waist. He dropped his bow, which slid around the girth of the tail.
“I’d planned to dine on you all, but I see future benefit in letting you go, except for this one.” It shook King Canute. “The last human I entertained was a King Josef, a charming man. How delightful for me to have you now.” Its voice softened. “We’ll amuse each other. I hardly regret my eye for the exchange.”
King Canute moaned, “Oho, oh!”
The dragon flapped its wings once, pushed off with its back legs, and flew, tail out straight except for the curl at the tip that held the king.
We didn’t shoot again. If we brought the monster down, King Canute would certainly be killed. The two shrank and disappeared. My throat closed in pity.
After a minute, Sir Noll said, “He’ll shoot out the other eye or stab it out. He’s brave and strong enough.”
No one answered him. Even if he escaped, he’d be alone in a monster-ridden land.
Then I wondered what the loss of him would mean for my match with Lord Tove.
Lady Mother curtsied. “Lakti salutes King Tove.”
Oh! The worst news for Bamarre.
Sir Noll bowed.
Lady Mother—now Queen Mother—continued. “May his rule be long. May courage and wisdom guide him. Victory for King Tove!”
Should I curtsy?
I did so. No matter which way the match went, he’d still be king, even if he shared the throne with King Einar.
Annet followed my lead. Drualt hesitated, then bowed.
“Your Majesty?” I said. “Beg— Will you carry out the match? You lost one in your party, and . . .” And now you’re king.
“Do you wish to concede?” he said, smiling.
I shook my head.
“My wife and Sir Noll are more than the equal of Sir Lerrin, a deserter, and a Bamarre servant.” He heard himself. “Apologies, Noll. I hope your boy regains his hearing and his senses. And, Grandmother, I want my daughter more than ever. She’s moved closer to the throne.”
The more reason to kill me.
King Tove’s helpers and mine finished armoring us. Sir Lerrin drew the helmet over my head. Too big, it overlapped the gorget around my throat, more like wearing a pail. When he lowered the visor, I couldn’t see.
“No!” I cried. “Leave it up, if you please.”
Someone said something I couldn’t hear through the steel. “What, beg pardon?”
Sir Lerrin raised the visor. “What?”
King Tove looked amused.
“I can’t see with the visor down. Leave it up.” My face as well as my hands would be exposed.
“You’re sure?” Sir Lerrin said.
I nodded, and my armor clanked. None of it fit well.
King Tove and I paced away from each other, a distance of seven long steps. According to ceremony, I curtsied—and almost lost my balance. He bowed his head. A king needed do no more.
We each turned sideways to our opponent, bent our elbows, held our swords chest high, distorted reflections of each other—I, short and squat; he, tall and straight.
My power is in my back leg, I thought.
We edged toward each other. He thrust. I parried. I thrust. He parried, thrust.
A dot of blood on the back of my hand. Defeat for Bamarre.
Tears threatened. I’d known I’d likely lose. But I’d expected to do better, hold out longer. I didn’t want to die, didn’t want to lose Willem, lose my future here on this side of the Eskerns.
At least I won against the tears. Dry-eyed, I saw Annet was weeping. Drualt, the only one who’d entirely believed in me, stood at her side, crying, too. I’d never seen him cry before.
Willem’s eyes were wet, too. He came close and stanched the blood with his sleeve.
Sir Lerrin removed my armor. “You were valiant. We Kyngoll will do what we can.”
It wouldn’t be enough. They’d be defeated, too.
I faced King Tove, who had removed his armor. How I had loved him.
“Where is my daughter?”
I opened my mouth to tell him the truth and then had a different idea. Lord Tove had once had love in him. Perhaps I could make it grow.
“Queen Klausine, I remember your lessons in declaiming.”
She nodded.
“You taught this grandmother?”
“I taught Perry, Tove.”
Sounding charmingly confused, he said, “I hope someone will explain to this muddled monarch.”
I tried to begin, but I had no breath. I bent over. Annet patted my back. Drualt’s hand clasped my right hand; Willem’s found my left.
“Is she trying to speak?” Lord Tove said.
I straightened and stepped away from the comfort. If not the battle spell, something like it gave me calm and certainty. “Your Majesty”—I would not curtsy or beg his pardon—“you said you were grateful for my effort to save you from two ogres. If you truly are, please grant me a few minutes to tell you my heart, as a Bamarre would, and my thoughts, as a Lakti might.”
“You’d like me to, wouldn’t you, my love?”
Queen Mother said she would.
“Then speak as long as you like.” His polite mask composed itself.
The words came in measured phrases, as if I were reading them from a book. “You’re king. There’s no need for secrecy now. In any case, Queen Klausine, Willem, and Sir Lerrin already know; Sir Noll has proven his loyalty to you and the rest of us are already ghosts.” Ghosts because, unless my speech worked a miracle, he would soon kill Annet, Drualt, and me.
“Before you do away with Perry, you should know that during her childhood, when you were off with King Uriel or fighting the Kyngoll, she lived in a chilly place of walls, rules, and tests. She liked rules and tests, liked clarity, loved excelling. And she loved Lady Mother and sought to earn her approval.
“But she always looked for your return as for the return of spring or the sun after a long storm, for your warmth, your gaiety, humor, and, most of all, your unguarded love.”
The mask seemed to dissolve. His face softened.
I continued. “Perry lost that, because of what she is, not what she ever did.” I turned to Sir Noll. “Perry was born a Bamarre, is a Bamarre.”
King Tove’s mask hardened again.
“Majesty, you lost her, because of ideas you’ve hugged close and the cruelty they’ve birthed, not because of what you are.” You are good! Can be good!
“You told me you aren’t perfect—”
“I never told you that!”
“Told Perry, then, and the admission was part of your charm. Can you be imperfect again and change your heart? Can you truly reunite with your Bamarre daughter as fath—”
“May I speak? Then you may continue as long as you like, unless, of course, the monsters return.”
We all looked about uneasily, but the sky and the land were clear. Remember that, I thought. An encounter may be followed by an interlude of safety.
As if I’d have the chance to use the knowledge. I said, “I’m eager to hear you.”
“You’ll be less eager once you do. The admission was to my Lakti child. To the Bamarre pretender, my disgust is as it should be. Perfect. Continue speaking, if you like.”
I’d failed again to save us, but I drew a deep breath and went on. “Do you know the price of tyranny, Your Majesty?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“It is the loss of ‘no.’ Subjects say ‘yes’ to a tyrant, whether he’s right or wrong. He may need a new way to see a problem, but no one brings it to him. There may be a route to greatness for his kingdom, which he can’t spot and others can, but he’ll never know. His rule will travel a rut, which will deepen and deepen, until his chariot of state can no longer move.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
I was running out of ideas, but I had one more. “We Bamarre don’t speak of our power to curse”—because we didn’t have one—“because we’re kind and rarely exercise it, but I curse you with lovelessness. When—”
He chuckled. “A Bamarre sort of curse, not very troubling to a Lakti.”
False. My former father loved to be loved. I shrugged. “I suppose. When you kill Perry or have her killed, however you arrange it, your queen will hate you and you will lose the power to command love in anyone else. Your charm will harden. A wall will grow around you, which you will have to climb to speak to anyone, and just from above. Life will lose its sweetness.” I grinned, enjoying this final moment. “Even marchpane will turn bitter on your tongue. That is my curse. Long live the Lakti king.” I saw his fury under the mask.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Then where is my daughter?”
“Here. I’m Perry.”
He reddened. “If you had drawn first blood, I would have lived up to my agreement.”
“I’m living up to mine.”
A feather-light touch stroked my hair, my chest and back, my legs, down to my feet. Halina?
I began to burn inside. Oh, I’d forgotten the pain!
This time I kept my eyes open and managed to hold out my hands so I could see. The skin reddened. Tiny boils popped up.
I wrested my gaze from myself. King Tove drew back, drew Queen Mother back, too, and shielded her.
My bones were melting and my insides were boiling, or so it felt.
King Tove’s expression changed from fright to eagerness. Ah, Perry was emerging.
He’d taken off his sword earlier, but he drew his dagger.
To kill me? Unarmed! In anguish!
I remembered Halina’s warning to Drualt when I was becoming Nadira. King Tove would die if he came close.
Queen Mother, trying to save me, reached for his arm to hold him, but he shook her off. Willem sprang forward to stop him, but Drualt catapulted himself and made my love stumble. Annet held Willem to keep him from trying again.
In my agony I don’t know if I could have moved away. I didn’t try. If we both died, I would have killed a despot.
He approached, lunged, thrust.