The cleric never fell to her vision. Her eyes were clear as a mirror as the guards shoved her into the table. “He will awaken in twelve heartbeats,” she said, her voice strained.
I didn’t trust her words. I couldn’t. She drank it too; why wasn’t she swept up in this vision? “What have you done to him? To all of them?”
“Do not fear, Princeling. All will be well.”
I wasn’t afraid, I was angry. Anger could sometimes make my heart pound, and my jaw quiver, and my throat tighten as if I was about to cry, but I was not scared. A future king was not allowed to be scared.
Mother woke with a great cry. Oh, thank the light. She reached forward and drew me into a hug. Her arms trembled, and she held me too tight, her tears wetting my collar.
I pulled back when Sir Tomlinson screamed himself awake, reaching for his sword and lifting it high above him, as if he were facing a monster. “You’re all right, Tomlinson,” I shouted. “It was just a vision. It wasn’t real.” His arm lowered slowly, and the sword clattered on the table. The sound awoke General Franciv. Her hands twitched to the dagger belted to her waist, before she fell to her knees and clutched her grip together as she prayed. Reginal’s eyes flashed open, and he held his fist over his mouth, fleeing from the table to be sick in a vase.
Father woke, his face filled with grim resolution.
I closed my mouth. I’d seen that look on my father’s face before. Once. When the sickness tore through my people. It was the look of a king at war.
“What can be done?” he asked.
The cleric extracted a large contract from the folds of her cape.
“You must sign your kingdom to the queen of the Savak, and you must come with me. We will protect your people, and keep the oaths our creator gave us.”
No one laughed now. Father only hesitated for a moment before laying his palm out in request for a quill.
I stood. “Stop! That’s my kingdom you’re giving away.”
“Not yet, my son.”
“Not ever if you do this. You can’t just hand over our kingdom to the Savak?”
“I feel the sting of this too, my son. But the cost of leaving is nothing if it stops what’s coming.”
Mother stepped toward me. “If we bow to the Savak queen now, she will save our kingdom for last, and we can give assistance to our allies while she thinks us cowed. It is the only way we all will survive. It is our only path to peace.”
“By giving her our armies?” They would not see sense. “We cannot leave.” My voice betrayed my emotion, so I cleared my throat and began again. “What will become of our people if you take our armies to other shores?”
What would become of me?
Father’s eyes softened. “You will keep them safe until I return.”
Me? “Against the Savak queen?” It was too much. “I can’t. I can’t do this. Not on my own.”
“That is not all, my son. The only way to win this war is if you gather the Armor of Irizald before the queen of the Savak tracks it down.”
I stilled at the mention.
The Armor of Irizald was a secret we never spoke of beyond our family walls. The witch-made armor created a power immeasurable when all the pieces were combined. We should have destroyed it—it was too dangerous to continue to exist—but we could not. Instead, long ago, my grandmother separated the armor and hid each piece in far-flung locations, which only my father and I knew. It set my spine to ice to think of our armor in the Savak queen’s hands.
My father gave me a nod. “Once you find the armor, the true heir will return to the Throne of Honor. Our kingdom will be restored.”
Mother wiped her cheeks and stood. “Your uncle will help you until then. Get him to drink the seer water. He will manage the kingdom as you quest for the armor.”
I crossed to my father’s side. “Father, no. Please. Whatever is coming, we can destroy it on our own. We can gather the armor together. You’d be invincible, no matter what weapon she aims our direction. We’ll face her as a united kingdom, not as servants to these heathens.”
I waited for someone to correct me, but the room was silent.
“It won’t be enough,” General Franciv said. “There is only one solution now. I’ve seen it. We must lead the charge from different shores.”
“What?” The world shifted. If the general agreed, there was no one on my side. “Are you certain?”
“It won’t be enough,” General Franciv repeated. “There is only one solution now. I’ve seen it. We must lead the charge from different shores.”
Why would she repeat herself? The council stood still, as if they were waiting on me to make a choice. But what choice? Why would they be silent now?
Was it possible the cleric was right? My people hated the Savak; they would not understand this. How was I supposed to change their opinion when it matched my own? How could I protect my people and gather the armor at the same time? Could this really be the only way?
I leaned over my father’s shoulder and read the contract.
WE, THE UNDERSIGNED, DO HUMBLY SWEAR OUR FIDELITY AND SUBMISSION TO THE HONORABLE MCKENNA SHARPWING CARRINGTON, QUEEN OF THE SAVAK. WE PLEDGE ALL BORDERS, RESOURCES, AND LEADERSHIP IN HER ESTIMABLE NAME, IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SAFE STEWARDSHIP OF OUR PEOPLE.
WE DO SO PLEDGE UNTIL THE DAY OF BATTLE ENDS, AND THE RIGHTFUL HEIR SITS UPON THE THRONE OF HONOR.
Treason.
Cowardice.
But in truth it was a distraction. The council would undermine the queen from within her circle, and buy me time to collect the armor.
“All right,” I whispered. “I’ll do it.”
A flare of light struck through the glass windows. I stood taller, like something had given me strength.
A servant gave Father a quill and he signed. Father passed the paper to Mother, and she to the rest. My hands trembled and I shook my head.
As they signed away my home, my title, and my future.
As they left me with nothing but a family legend to protect my people from a war that was coming.
And my uncle. He would love a chance to manage the kingdom while I searched for the armor.
The trick would be to remove him once Father returned.
“Can I trust Uncle to help me?”
My parents shared a glance, but the cleric stepped forward. She placed the near-empty pitcher on the table.
“Goddess bless us all if he does not drink.”
2
RYO
My tutors never taught me the proper etiquette of abandoning one’s kingdom. Turns out it involves a grand helping of silence, and servants mooring the ship to the royal docks, while the harbor men work and whisper and watch.
Mother pressed back a curl and kissed my hair. “Keep yourself safe.”
She cocked her head to look at me, as if memorizing my face. My mother had fought a thousand battles, but never with a sword. She came from a far-off kingdom and she had to fight tooth and bone to gain the respect she’d earned at court. She could protect my father from this. She could protect herself.
“I’ll try my best,” I whispered. This task had set my voice to hiding.
“Thank you for doing this,” my mother said.
The cleric unstrung the necklace from around her neck, lowering her hood over her shoulders to do so.