The Invasion of the Tearling

“When you go to the market, do you … do you ever hear of black-market items being available down there?”


Andalie’s gaze sharpened. “What is it you’re seeking, Lady?”

“I want …” Kelsea peeked toward the door, making sure that Pen hadn’t somehow slunk back into the room. “I want contraception. I’ve heard it’s out there.”

If Andalie was surprised, she didn’t show it. “It is out there, Lady. The question is how to distinguish the true from the false. And the true is always very expensive.”

“I’ve got the money. Can you do it? I don’t want anyone to know.”

“I can do it, Lady. But I wonder if you’ve considered the consequences.”

Kelsea frowned. “You have moral objections?”

“God, no!” Andalie chuckled. “I would’ve taken the stuff myself, but we never had the money. It was all I could do to feed all of my children two meals a day. I do not condemn you, Majesty. I simply mean that even I have heard the tone of the city. The people want an heir. I don’t know what happens if you take a contraceptive and it is discovered.”

“Public opinion is the least of my concerns right now. I’m nineteen. This kingdom doesn’t own every part of me.”

“They will disagree with you on that. But regardless, I can get the syrup, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Kelsea replied firmly. “When do you go to market?”

“Thursday.”

“I’ll give you the gold. I appreciate this.”

“Be careful, Lady,” Andalie cautioned. “I know all about the wildness of youth, believe me. But regret has a terrible ability to follow you, long after youth has vanished.”

“Yes.” Kelsea had been looking down at her feet, but now she abruptly looked up at Andalie, nearly begging. “I only want to be able to have a life, that’s all. A life, just like any other girl my age would have. Is that so terrible?”

“Not terrible at all, Majesty,” Andalie replied. “But though you may wish for an ordinary life, you will not have it. You are the Queen of the Tearling. There are some things you cannot choose.”

A FEW DAYS later, Kelsea finally got up the courage to run an errand she’d been putting off for nearly a month. Gathering up Mace, Pen, and Coryn, she left the Queen’s Wing, traveled up three flights of stairs, turned left, then right, then left again, and entered a large, windowless room on the twelfth floor of the Keep.

Elston stood up from an armchair just inside the doorway. For once, Kibb was not with him. Although Kibb appeared to have completely recovered in a physical sense, Mace was still wary, still testing Kibb to see if anything had changed.

“Enjoying yourself, Elston?”

“More than you can imagine, Lady.”

The room was lit by many torches, and at its center was a steel cage that stood almost to the ceiling. The bars were thin, but they looked to be extremely strong. In the center of the cage, Arlen Thorne sat in a simple wooden chair, his head tipped back, his gaze focused on the ceiling. The chair was the only furniture in the cage.

“He doesn’t even have a cot?” Kelsea asked Mace in an undertone.

“He can sleep just fine on the floor.”

“What about a blanket?”

Mace’s brow furrowed. “What is this sudden sympathy for Thorne, Lady?”

“Not sympathy, concern. Even worse criminals would deserve a blanket.”

“Have you come to gloat, Majesty?” Thorne called from the center of the room. “Or will you merely mumble to each other all day over there?”

“Ah, Arlen. How the mighty have fallen.” Kelsea moved to stand ten feet from the bars, and Pen followed, placing himself between Kelsea and the cage. For a moment, she was distracted by Pen’s lithe swordfighter’s form, which she now saw in an entirely new light; the sex was getting better, and it was difficult, these days, to keep from picturing him naked. But they had agreed to keep this thing in the dark, and in the dark it would stay. “Coryn, can you find me something to sit on, please?”

“Lady.”

“How goes the invasion, Majesty?” Thorne asked.

“Poorly,” Kelsea admitted. “The Mort are pushing inward from the border. My army won’t hold for long.”

Thorne shrugged. “The inevitable result.”

“I’ll give you this, Arlen: at least you don’t feign remorse.”

“What is there to be remorseful about? I played the hand I was dealt as well as I could. Bad luck is bad luck.” Thorne leaned forward, his bright blue eyes piercing in the dim room. “How did you find out about my special shipment, Lady? I have always wondered. Did someone talk?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know?”

“Magic.”

“Ah, well.” Thorne sat back. “I have seen magic worked, once or twice.”

“Don’t you care about anything, Arlen?”

“Care is a liability, Majesty.”

Coryn reappeared with a chair, and Kelsea sat down in front of the cage. “What of Brenna? Surely you care for her. Or have I been misinformed?”