Page 26 of An Archer's Reckoning

“What was that?” he asked, his voice as hoarse and broken as mine had been when I first witnessed the visions.

“That is what we must prevent,” Órla said. “Declan is our greatest hope. He will need both of us, our support, our love, our strength. He will need more than we have to give, but give it we must, or everything we love will die.”

Chapter 9

Isabel

“Tossing fire at the Royal Guard was a delicate touch. I don’t think you’ll have any more talk of treason from the Council,” Danai said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

I snorted. “Too many of those men served Alfred for decades. We will have to look for opportunities to replace them, to help them retire. I do not care which . . . just get rid of them.”

Danai sat on the edge of my bed, sipping his wine.

I detested the cramped chamber the inn offered but had resigned myself to uncomfortable conditions until the war was won.

He lowered his glass. “Let me think on that. The people aren’t with you at the moment. Rumors are spreading about the death of your husband and son. We need to turn the tide of their opinions before the war effort can move forward.”

“Do you think I care what commoners think?” I spat, shocked he would even raise the issue. “They can burn just as easily as Wilfred did.”

“Please, Your Majesty, we dare not go that route unless there’s no other choice. We need the people to feed and clothe your armies. We need the armies to be impassioned for your cause. Fear will compel men only so far, and it will lose as many as it gains.”

There was a moment of silence as I eyed the Chancellor.

I knew he was right, but a roiling anger within craved the fire, the pain. At that thought, Irina’s spirit churned deep within, prodding and testing, searching for ways to be free of her earthly shell.

I shivered. It felt like someone was trying to pull apart my very marrow.

When I was able to suppress the sensation, I asked, “I assume you have something in mind to win the people’s hearts?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” He gave me a smarmy grin. “We will have massive pyres built in the center of the encampment. We will place Alfred and Justin at their peaks, and you offer a wife’s—a grieving mother’s—tears publicly. You will tell the people the Triad killed them, kidnapped Jess, and tried to kill you. The people already believe Jess was kidnapped by their hand. Why not fuel their anger, give them more reason to crave revenge? You could even tell them the High Sheriff was involved. Some on the Council might speak against that tale, but who will the people believe? A bitter old man or a grieving Queen?”

I was rarely surprised, but my jaw dropped as I rose from my chair and paced, fingers strumming against my lips as I imagined the scene. I started to list the dozen reasons Danai’s plan was terrible but stopped.

Irina’s spirit feltpleasedwith his idea.

That meantIwas pleased with it, too.

I stopped pacing and locked eyes with the Chancellor. “Danai, youarea little weasel, but you’re abrilliantone.”

The next day, mournful bugles signaled assembly throughout the military encampment. Citizens of the town were allowed to enter to witness the passing of an era. Danai, working his unprecedented public relations magic, spread word of what would occur this day through every courier, spy, and innkeeper within a hundred leagues. Within the week, the entire Kingdom would know the words spoken by their Regent as she mourned the loss of her husband-King and son. He even had a stage built near the pyres. Stairs led up the side, lifting me more than six feet off the ground. No one in the crowd could miss me.

As I ascended the stairs, clad in black and flanked by a dozen Royal Guardsmen, thousands of soldiers and citizens stilled. The only sound to be heard were my shoes clapping against the wooden planks and the brisk winter wind whistling as it passed through the neatly stacked logs of the King’s massive pyre. I wore a mournful expression, complete with streaked makeup that Danai had hailed as his “crowning touch.”

“Citizens of the Spires.” My voice was magically amplified by an amulet Danai insisted I wear. Anyone within a mile would hear me clearly. I gave a slight tremble as I spoke. “We come today to say farewell to one of our greatest kings, Alfred of House Vester, First of his Name, Lord of the Spires and Protector of the Realm.”

I paused, peering down at the assembled crowd, making eye contact with one person before moving to the next. My Gift felt deep, genuine grief mingled with anger and something else . . .confusion?The people hadn’t made their minds up. My appearance sowed seeds of doubt regarding the rumors of the King’s murder at my hand.

I drew a deep breath.

“We lost our King, but we also lost our Prince, Justin, a boy not yet grown into manhood. What mother could bear to lose her son?” I paused. My voice caught as images of Justin consumed my mind’s eye.

“Yet I have, and I am . . . broken.”

A tear fell unbidden down my cheek.

A woman in the front row began to sob.

“I stand before you a humble widow, for I lost so much more than my King. I lost my husband, my heart, my best friend—and the father of my children. We came here as a family to find our daughter. We came here, desperate and afraid, yet hopeful.

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