A Red-Rose Chain

I grimaced. “Not in so many words, but sort of, I guess. I’m here to prevent a war, through whatever means necessary.”


“Trust October to feel that dethroning a monarch to prevent a small border skirmish falls under ‘whatever means necessary,’” said Tybalt, sounding amused. He was still seated, as was Ceres. I shot him a look. He smiled at me, and took one of the saffron cookies.

“Cats,” I muttered, looking back to Marlis. “You don’t have to help us. I’d ask only that you not work against us too enthusiastically. The woman who has the King’s ear was never rightful Queen in the Mists. She has no claim to the throne.”

“But she gave our throne to Rhys,” said Marlis hotly. “If she had no claim to her own, how could she have given ours to him?” The way she said “our” made it clear that she meant her family’s throne, and not just her Kingdom’s.

“At the time, she was Queen, and no one was questioning her, maybe because we’d just had half our Kingdom fall down and catch fire in a giant earthquake. That sort of thing makes people pretty tired,” I said. “After that, she had just been in charge for so long that nobody questioned her about whether or not she had a right to be there.”

I certainly hadn’t. Not until she’d forced my hand. Even then, all the questioning in the world wouldn’t have done me any good if not for the Luidaeg, who had stepped up to make sure I knew Arden wasn’t dead. A lot of factors had combined to see the nameless Queen relieved of her throne. As I watched Walther and his sister starting to reconnect, I wondered how many of those factors were combining right in front of me. Silences was a corrupt house. It needed cleaning.

“If you keep doing this, monarchs will cease allowing you to enter their demesne,” murmured Tybalt, voice low enough that I knew his words were intended for me alone.

I snorted. “This is the first time I’ve ever left the Mists. I don’t think it’s something we need to worry about becoming a habit.”

“Everything about which you have ever said, ‘oh, this will not become a habit, no, not for me’ has become a habit—even me,” said Tybalt. “My little king-breaker.”

I twisted to wrinkle my nose at him. Before I could say anything, Marlis said, “She’s already got that reputation.”

“What?” I looked back to her, blinking. “What do you mean?”

Marlis shrugged. “Rhys speaks freely in front of me. He knows I’m too deeply enspelled to turn against him, and I think it amuses him to stand before the last waking member of the royal family—however removed from the throne—and speak of things I’ll never have, or even remember wanting. When the Queen in the Mists sent notice that she was dispatching a diplomatic team, and that you’d be leading the group, he went white as whey and started whining about what you’d done in the Mists. He’s afraid of you. It’s why he orchestrated that spill at breakfast. He wants to get you out of here as fast as possible.”

So Rhys had been lying about being surprised by my arrival. Somehow, that wasn’t all that shocking. “All he has to do to get me out is agree not to go to war against the Mists,” I said. “It’s that simple.”

She shook her head. “Even if it were that simple,” and her voice told me it wasn’t, not really, “he wouldn’t do it. He seeks the favor of your deposed Queen. He took this throne for her. And for power, of course—some men will do anything for power—but the power he wanted was the power of sitting at her right hand, in his homeland, not being exiled to kingship in our damp and forested lands.”