BRAITH
Queen Braith sat like a statue on her throne before the council table.
She had put it off long enough, and now it was time for the most dreaded of announcements. Nothing in her newborn reign had been so potentially explosive as this—not her father’s murder, not even the announcement of her ascension to the throne of Tir.
“If we are through with our court business for the day, I have something I wish to say.”
Sir Fellyck and the other councilmembers fell silent and stared at the queen. If only Yestin Bo-Arthio’s kind, fatherly gaze were among them.
“As you know, I have sent my councilman General Yestin Bo-Arthio on an ambassadorial mission. He and those accompanying him set sail from Tir over a week ago, and I would like to tell you what their business was about.”
Braith took a deep breath. Her voice was firm.
“I have emancipated the countries and territories my father conquered. Meridione, Haribi, Minasimet, and the Spice Islands are free. We are no longer the Tirian Empire. We are simply the Kingdom of Tir, as we once were.”
Half the council jumped to their feet. Raucous shouts arose from every corner of the room.
“Why, Majesty?” a councilman called. “Why would you do such a thing?”
Braith rose and held up her hands. “Your queen commands silence.”
The clamor died down.
She turned to the councilman. “It is because my father’s conquests were not right. He spilled Tirian blood and the blood of our neighbors to satisfy his lust for land. And what has it brought us? What has it brought you, my fellow Tirians? Wealth? Fortune? Health? Happiness? Our peasants are starving. Our own territories are unstable. My call as your queen is to address these problems for you—for us—not to fill my palace with slaves, my table with imported foods, and my treasury with foreign gold.”
She lowered her hands and scanned the room. “Do not let my father’s affinity for conquest become your own. Realize that he gained much while Tir’s people gained little and our neighbors suffered greatly. We get to decide what the Tir of the future will look like. Let this be the first step toward a better way of living—the first step toward a better Tir.”
Braith stood in silence now, as though awaiting a hail of arrows from an execution squad.
But the arrows did not come. The court did not form a mob. They did not rush her throne or arrest her.
One by one, the councilmen sat. The ladies at court resumed fanning themselves, and the lords stood silently and expectantly, as though simply waiting for the next agenda item.
Braith pondered them. Could it be they truly heard her? Could it be that, for once, they understood her heart and didn’t find it wanting?
Perhaps there could be a different Tir—something better than had ever existed before. Something that could reflect the values Braith had always longed to see her countrymen hold as dearly as she did.
Perhaps she would get to be the queen she had always dreamed of being.
She lowered herself back onto her throne and turned to one of her governors. “Orellwin.”
The Governor of the Western Wildlands bowed. “Yes, Majesty?”
“How are the silver mines of Clofay yielding these days?”
“Oh. Ah . . .” He shook his head, obviously surprised by her query. “Tolerably well, Your Majesty.”
“Good. I should like to commission a new circlet.” Braith removed the jewel-studded gold crown that had belonged to her mother. “This was Queen Frenhin’s, and it’s the crown of an empress—the empress of an ill-gained empire. I should like something simple and fine, something that befits the Queen of the Kingdom of Tir.”
Orellwin bowed low to the ground. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.”
Braith was surprised as others began to bow. Not all, and some perhaps because they felt pressure to do so. But many nobles and officials around the room lowered their heads to her. The peasants might riot when they heard of the emancipation, but it seemed perhaps she had won over the nobles. At least for now.
Braith smiled, relieved. “Thank you. Together, we shall dream about what the future of Tir might hold.”
And she prayed that it might be so.