Queen of Fire

“You know there is always a place for you in the Reaches,” Vaelin said. “Should you ever tire of the Order.”

“That day will never come, brother. I think you know that.” Frentis paused a short distance from the gangplank, glancing up at the collection of expectant faces arrayed along the ship’s rail. Sister Illian, regarding Vaelin with a somewhat stern visage. The hairy captain exchanging a ribald joke with the former slave. And mad Master Rensial, balancing on crutches and frowning at Vaelin as if seeking to recall his name. He has his own Order now, Vaelin decided, a pang of envy mingling with satisfaction in his breast.

“Kiral said you tried to save her,” Vaelin said. “The Empress.”

“We once murdered our way across an empire and killed a king,” Frentis replied. “And yet I was saved. Why not her?”

“She was monstrous. Brother Hollun estimates near half a million people died at her command.”

“She was what she was made.” His hand went to his shirt, feeling for scars that no longer existed. “As was I. In my heart I know she could have been made . . . better.”

He gave a tight smile and they embraced. “My regards to your sister,” Frentis said, drawing away and stepping onto the gangplank, pausing once more. “The dreams still come, brother. Not every night, but most. She comes to me and I find she is easier to bear now.”

He smiled again and ascended to the ship, the last of the faith-hounds jumping in excitement to lick his face as he stepped onto the deck and disappeared from sight.

• • •

The queen held court in what had been the house of Council-man Arklev, a sizeable mansion with extensive grounds that benefited from a tall surrounding wall and a large audience chamber. A small army of clerks laboured in the mansion’s many rooms to deal with the copious correspondence generated by an empire that now found itself part of a Realm. The issues were many and varied, from famine in the south to declarations of secession in the east where some Volarian military strength had contrived to linger, apparently due to the pragmatic attitude of the provincial governor who had taken his forces on protracted manoeuvres, thereby avoiding Imperial messengers bearing his death-warrant.

Over the weeks since the city’s fall the queen had faced a continual stream of petitioners, dozens at first, then hundreds. Various rebel groups sought recognition, representatives from the more quiescent towns and cities demanded protection from less placid neighbours and, most of all, merchants came with generous offers for exclusive trading concessions.

Vaelin was met at the chamber door by Lady Lieza, saved from the arena and now elevated to the queen’s side by virtue of her skill with correspondence, not to mention an intimate knowledge of the varied laws and customs of this newly conquered land.

“The queen bids you enter immediately, my lord,” the lady said in her rapidly improving Realm Tongue.

“How many today?” he asked as she bade the guards to open the door.

Lieza gave a tense smile. “Just one.”

The queen was speaking as he entered, her tone surprising in the anger it held. “And your Empress expects me to simply agree to this without negotiation?”

Lord Verniers seemed to have aged since Vaelin last saw him, though he also appeared to stand a little straighter now and displayed scant reaction to the queen’s ire. “She does you the courtesy of informing you of her actions, Highness,” he said. “And sees no scope for conflict in this matter.”

He fell silent at Vaelin’s entry, pausing to offer a shallow bow of welcome.

“Lord Vaelin,” the queen greeted him. “Lord Verniers, it seems, has gained stature since leaving us. May I present the Alpiran Ambassador to the Unified Realm.”

“Congratulations, my lord,” Vaelin told Verniers, returning the bow.

“He comes to tell me one of my own cities is now in the hands of his Empress,” the queen continued.

“Verehl was an Alpiran city long before the Volarian Empire even existed, Highness,” Verniers responded. “And I should point out its capture occurred whilst your war was still ongoing. The actions of an ally, in truth.”

“An ally would have sailed her fleet into the Cut and helped take this city, not steal another.” Lyrna rose from her throne, approaching Verniers, face tense with anger. “Does your Empress have any notion of the army I now command? Of the nature of the sword I wield? I took an empire in the space of a few months. Had I a mind to, I could take a world.”

“Highness . . .” Vaelin began but she waved him to silence, moving away and sighing in frustration. “I find, Lord Verniers, it would be best if you came back tomorrow, when my temper will be better suited to diplomacy. Lord Vaelin, you will stay. We have military matters to discuss.”

Vaelin touched a hand to Verniers’ sleeve as he bowed and made for the door. “The Volarian woman?”

Verniers took a deliberate step back from him, face unchanged as he said, “She died.”

“I’m sorry. We had intelligence there was an agent of the Ally in Alpira . . .”