The Invasion of the Tearling

The Red Queen was leaning against the wall of the tent now, her breathing labored. But she looked up at Kelsea with furious eyes. “Get out. You have no right.”


Kelsea withdrew, disengaging from the woman’s mind. The Red Queen sagged to the ground, huddling there, her arms wrapped around her knees. Kelsea wanted to apologize, for she saw, now, the great ugliness of what she had done. But the Red Queen had closed her eyes, dismissing Kelsea somehow; the clear certainty that she would die had permeated the woman’s thoughts, calming the tides that lapped there. The Red Queen had lived a long and terrible life, defined by her own casual brutality, and it would be easy, so easy, to dismiss the child who wandered inside her. The dark side of Kelsea wanted to ignore that child; murder hovered in her mind, ravenous, like a dog straining to be let from the leash. But Kelsea paused, suddenly confronted by a nuance she had never considered. The woman in front of her deserved heavy punishment for the acts she had committed, the terror she had inflicted on the world. But the child Evelyn was not responsible for what had been done to her, and the experiences of the child had forever shaped the woman. Kelsea’s mind clamored, hectoring, demanding that she do something, that she act. But still she hesitated, staring at the crouching woman before her.

The problems of the past. Her own voice echoed in her mind, and Kelsea wished Mace were there, for she felt that she could finally explain this particular conundrum, present him with a concrete example of how the problems of the past, uncorrected, inevitably became the problems of the future.

I can’t kill her, Kelsea realized. An army surrounded them, an army that would enter New London and lay it waste. This was Kelsea’s only option, her only chance … but she could not bring herself to do the act. Compassion had ruined everything.

“Open your eyes,” Kelsea commanded, and as she spoke the words, she felt the dark shadow inside her crumple and limp away, its wings tattered. It might circle her mind forever, seeking advantage, but at that moment, Kelsea knew that it would never control her again.

The Red Queen opened her eyes, and the rage Kelsea saw there made her flinch. She had intruded where she had no right to be, and this woman would always hate her for what she had discovered there. Again Kelsea considered apologizing, but the memory of William Tear intruded.

The main prize!

“I propose a trade. I will give you my sapphires.”

“In exchange for what?” After a moment of initial surprise, the Red Queen’s face smoothed over, and Kelsea felt unwilling admiration. So she, too, had the power to wipe away the past when it served no purpose, when it would only be a distraction. Kelsea would earn no points for sparing the Red Queen’s life, that expression said; this woman would drive a hard bargain.

“Autonomy for the Tear.”

The Queen chuckled, but sobered quickly when she saw Kelsea’s expression. “You are serious?”

“Yes. I will give you the necklaces, take them off willingly, and you will withdraw your army and not return for five years. During this time, you will not place one toe in my kingdom. You will demand nothing. You will leave my people alone.”

“Five years’ worth of lost profits from the shipment? You must be out of your mind.”

But beneath the smooth face of the hard bargainer, Kelsea read a different story. Here, at least, Thorne and Finn had been right: the Red Queen wanted the jewels very badly.

“I promise you, if you refuse to trade with me, you will never have my sapphires. I may rot and wither to nothing, and you will still never be able to take them off me without facing the consequences. They belong to me.”

“Five years is too long.”

“Majesty!” Ducarte blurted out. Kelsea had forgotten he was there, crouched in the far corner of the tent. “You cannot!”

“Shut up, Benin.”

“Majesty, I will not.” Ducarte stood up, and Kelsea saw that he too was furious … but not with her. “The army has been incredibly patient with the lack of plunder, but it cannot last forever. New London is their reward, poorly defended, full of women and children. They have earned that.”

“You’ll get your ten percent, Benin. I’ll pay you out of my own pocket.”

Ducarte shook his head. “You will, Majesty, but that will not solve the issue. The army is already angry. To be withdrawn at the moment of victory—”

Kelsea was on the point of silencing him; she did not need his interference, not when she sensed her opponent weakening. But there was no need. The Red Queen turned to him and Ducarte blanched, falling silent.

“You think my army would defy me, Benin?”

“No, Majesty, no,” Ducarte backpedaled. “But they are already discontented. Poor morale makes poor soldiers, this is established.”

“They will tamp down their discontent, if they know what’s good for them.” The Red Queen turned back to Kelsea, her eyes gleaming, dark pupils flicking between Kelsea’s face and the sapphires. “Two years.”