She knows this immediately but cannot act. If no one summons her, it won’t be long before the Malstop fails.
Then this will be the world:
1.
HANNE
Before this, Hanne had lots of practical ideas about marriage.
From childhood, she’d prepared herself to be matched off to the wealthiest, most powerful person with political leverage. She’d been satisfied imagining a loveless marriage; only in stories did princesses get to fall in love with handsome knights or clever farm girls. And there was no forgetting that talk with her mother—the one when she was thirteen—that encouraged her to make heirs, then make arrangements. That was, arrangements to engage with parties other than her spouse, if she liked.
It was how most political matches worked.
But even by Hanne’s rather businesslike ideas of marriage, her situation was unusual.
CROWN PRINCESS JOHANNE FORTUIN OF EMBRIA TO WED CROWN PRINCE RUNE HIGHCROWN OF CABERWILL.
That was the headline of every paper from Solcast, Embria, to Brink, Caberwill—and likely every paper in Ivasland, too. A royal wedding. Two enemy kingdoms, united by mutual contempt for the third.
Not included in the papers or gossip? Her plans for after the wedding. First, Hanne would conquer Ivasland with the might of her two armies. Then she’d eliminate her husband and his entire family. Finally, she’d rule everything.
Unconventional as it might be, this was a war-ending plan, which all of Salvation desperately needed.
True, the three kingdoms were not currently engaged in active, formal war, but this nervous pause they found themselves in would last only so long. Eventually, the ceasefires would end, the trading would stop, and the slaughter would resume. It always did.
So Hanne’s chief ambition was peace. If such a thing were possible, she would achieve it. That her plan would lead to Embria’s victory—and Hanne’s elevation to Queen of Everything—was a happy by-product.
“At least he’s nice to look at.” Nadine—Hanne’s favorite cousin and lady-in-waiting, and the only person in the whole world Hanne actually wanted to spend time with—peered from the window of their stuffy carriage. They were alone in here, but surrounded outside by a whole company of nobles, diplomats, and soldiers, all traveling to Brink for the wedding.
Hanne had liked the idea of a journey, at least until she’d realized she’d be stuck in the carriage for the duration. She wanted the breeze, the exercise, but her parents wouldn’t permit it. They insisted that she sit in her airless cage while other people enjoyed themselves.
“We still think he’s handsome, right?” Nadine glanced at Hanne from the corner of her eye, then looked back out the window where they had a fine view of Rune Highcrown. “He does have that going for him, if nothing else.”
Nadine, sweet Nadine, always tried so hard to see the bright side of any situation.
But for Hanne, the only bright side was the end result, and she would endure whatever misery was required in order to reach her goals.
“He has a stupid name,” she said shortly.
Even so, that didn’t stop her from admiring his tall form, his riding posture impeccable on the back of his raven-coated stallion. He rode slightly ahead of them, so she couldn’t see his strong jaw, or the stubble he’d been growing since they’d left Solcast, but she’d had time to fix it in her mind. Every evening, when their caravan stopped for the night, she and he were given “alone time,” during which they’d take a turn about the clearing (or a turn about the lakeshore, or a turn about the edges of an ever-burning forest) to get to know each other better, while Nadine and a few other ladies-in-waiting followed at a respectable distance.
“He can’t help his name,” Nadine pointed out. Between the two of them, she was definitely the nicer person, which meant that Hanne had to look out for Nadine, because if experience was anything to go by, regular people took advantage of nice people. Hanne hated regular people.
“Nor his looks,” Hanne said. “Don’t credit him for one attribute he has no control over and make excuses for another.”
Nadine rolled her eyes, something she’d never have done if Hanne’s other ladies-in-waiting had been here; but when it was just the two of them, they were at ease. Nadine tried to show Hanne every silver lining in existence, while Hanne did her best to teach Nadine how to guard herself from the aforementioned regular people. “He could refuse to comb his hair or take care of his skin. He could slouch or chew with his mouth open. Fortunately for you, he has enough vanity and manners to make looking at him pleasant.”
“At least until I have to kill him.” Hanne touched the dagger she kept in a boot sheath.
“At least until you have to kill him,” Nadine agreed. “But try not to hold his silly name against him. His ancestors are to blame.”
That was true. Once, the people of all three kingdoms shared a common naming system: first name—last name, all taken from the invaders and refugees who’d landed on the shores of Salvation ages ago. Things blended, as they do, but when the three kingdoms decided they hated one another and split apart, the people of Ivasland began going by the towns where they lived, and the people of Caberwill decided to name themselves after virtues, compositions, and other absurd things.
Highcrown. Ridiculous.
Of course, Hanne’s last name was Fortuin, which was only better because she had decided it was.
Still, there was something about Rune Highcrown that she liked, despite herself. Perhaps it was his determination to protect his kingdom, or the fact that he’d been willing to come to Embria—enemy territory—to negotiate the marriage contract himself. No proxies for this prince. She wouldn’t soon forget how he’d looked striding into the throne room that first day, clad in the subtle blacks and grays popular in Caberwill, his dark hair arranged into immaculate disarray. When he’d presented himself to the entire Embrian court, he’d spoken with an air of confidence that demanded respect.
Her people could have killed him then and there—and he must have known that—but the situation with Ivasland was too dire. If Ivasland had indeed broken the Winterfast Accords, as was now whispered everywhere, that demanded a swift and unflinching response: marriage.
It was amazing Embria’s spies had discovered the plot, actually. Thanks to rigorous security measures—frequent random inspections, the constant presence of soldiers, and an impressive indoctrination campaign that encouraged unquestioning loyalty in Ivasland youth—it was notoriously difficult to place spies in Ivasland’s courts, university, or Grand Temple. But it was possible. And occasionally, Embria could find someone to turn—someone tired of being poor or ignored. It was from one such Ivaslander, an old man seeking wealth and power for his grandchildren, that this ultimate betrayal had been discovered.