Page 51 of A Crown of Lies

“Rixxis?”

“Hmm?” came her half-asleep reply.

“Are we still friends?”

Her lips tugged up in a sleepy smile. “Best friends.”

“Good,” he said and closed his eyes, settling in against her for the night.

Sixteen

PrinceMichaldrummedhisfingers on the tabletop, staring at the wall while the women argued.

“Ridiculous!” Queen Haarima-jaan of Trinta waved her hand, dismissing Queen Eris’s accusations. “I had nothing to do with the attempt on your life. Those were my brother’s machinations and I deny them categorically. Even if it were true, it is no excuse for you to send two of your agents into my city to carry out an attack against our mages and the Citadel!”

“I sent those agents to pursue peace!” Eris countered. “Was Knight Commander Auclair not acting on your orders to apprehend Katyr Runecleaver?”

Haarima-jaan waved a hand dismissively. “Auclair was an extremist acting on his own, with no support from the crown.”

They were lying, both of them. Perhaps Queen Eris had not sent her agents with the intent of stirring up trouble in Trinta, but she’d been well aware that it might.

The peace talks were a farce. Brucia and Trinta had been hurtling headlong toward war since King Janos died. Eris was a strong queen, but without her mercenaries, she would not have held Brucia. She was not as beloved by her people as her brother had been, either.

Michal’s eyes settled on Queen Eris, whose face was twisted in an irritated scowl. She ran her hand absently over her swollen belly and he had to work to keep a tick of irritation from surfacing.

This squabbling was all a pointless waste of time. It made the Free Cities weak to fight amongst each other, and if they were to stand against the storm coming from the east, they needed to be united. That wasn’t going to happen under either of these two queens. Haarima-jaan was too weak. The Brotherhood ruled her city more than she ever would. As for Queen Eris… She had the strength to lead in the dark days ahead, but she had chosen a poor match, and it had divided the people. The people of the Free Cities would never accept her, not when she made an elf her king.

But it wasn’t too late to stop that. Brucia could still be saved, and they could unite the land to face what was coming.

“How dare you!” Queen Haarima-jaan shot out of her seat, fists clenched, drawing the prince from his thoughts.

Michal’s left eye twitched with irritation. “Perhaps we should break early for lunch. Let us resume this afternoon with cooler heads.”

“I hope you find your head by then,” Haarima-jaan spat at Eris.

“And I pray you find your spine,” Eris shot back.

The Trintan queen fled the room in a huff, taking her retainers and guards with her. Eris remained, rubbing her temples, and so her retainers remained. Prince Michal stood, gathering all the papers spread out in front of him. His father had given him the task of overseeing the talks, mostly so he would have something to do other than plot. The king of Ostovan knew his days were numbered, and rightly so. He thought he could appease Michal with more duties.

They both knew the truth. If the queen bore a son, it would force Michal’s hand. He would have to act quickly, decisively, to secure his place on the throne.

Michal excused himself and slipped into the hall, where he handed the papers off to his assistant to store until they were needed later. Hands folded behind his back, he paced through the palace halls until his wanderings brought him to the queen’s chambers. The door stood wide open, and he could hear the healers shuffling about inside, but it was the octarian that stepped out to greet him.

The old priest ran a white towel over his wrinkled hands, drying them. “Prince Michal,” he said in greeting, bobbing his head. His bald head gleamed in the afternoon light.

“How is she?” Michal asked, and they started walking together.

“Her time is close,” replied the octarian. “With the new moon approaching, I suspect we shall see the child sooner rather than later.”

“And the child is… healthy?” Michal turned his head, looking down at the shorter man.

“As far as I can determine, yes, and full to term.”

This was not the first time his father, and the queen had conceived a child. However, queen Olga had been unable to carry the others to term, or they were born sickly and malformed. It wasn’t her fault. Honestly, it was a wonder his father had been able to conceive children at all, malformed as he was. Sometimes, Michal doubted the validity of his mother’s claims that he was the king’s son, but the claim had been verified by magic, both in Ostovan and in Savarra. There could be no doubt he shared blood with King Zygfried of Ostovan, even if he was a bastard.

“Have you been able to divine the sex of the child?” Michal asked.

The octarian halted and sighed, turning to face his prince. “It is guesswork at best until the birth. You know this, my prince.”

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