A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

“Do you think if people knew that Her Highness summoned the fates, they would follow her?” Baedriya asks.

“People believe what they want to believe, even when the truth is laid bare, unfiltered and undeniable, before them.” Lorel is not an evil caster, nor is she blind, but she chooses the path that ensures her position as Prime. She likely figures any hidden truths won’t change the outcome. Maybe she’s right. I could stand on the top of this wagon and shout them for all to hear, and all it would earn me is an arrow through my gullet.

The Shadows approach, riding two by two in a straight line, their identities concealed behind their fearsome-looking black armor. But I know Solange leads the escort with the queen and the elementals. She may not approve of our part in this war with Islor, but she also knows she has no choice but to follow orders. We are all pawns in Queen Neilina’s game, and she will replace us as necessary.

The royal carriage slows, its frame winking with countless gems that mirror the castle towers. Neilina never leaves Argon without both the army led by Commander Tiberius and the Shadows. She rarely leaves Argon period, preferring the comforts of her pampered life rather than seeing how her people suffer.

“You should run along and find Master Barra. I’m sure he has a task for you.” I add as an afterthought. “May the fates be with you until dawn.”

“And you as well.” Baedriya bows and darts off.

The carriage door opens and Queen Neilina herself steps out, Aoife’s token necklace a statement with its splendor. She has replaced her gold gown with one made of both gold and silver, perhaps a nod to Vin’nyla as she prepares to watch the battle unfold. I can guess without being told that she has no plans of joining, only claiming victory.

Behind her, Cressida steps out, her doe eyes wide and fearful.

My anger boils. That blasted royal demon. Can she be any more blatant with her scheming, keeping the innocent, collarless caster glued to her hip in case she must summon a fate?

The queen’s gaze veers in my direction, and I duck behind our wagon, out of sight. Surely, she would question my presence if she saw me, and questioning done by her never ends well for anyone. I must do a better job of hiding until I can get across.

“Master Scribe!”

I jump at the husky voice and spin around to meet Solange’s penetrating glare.

The Second towers over me. “I thought I saw you among the fray but couldn’t make sense of it. What possible reason does an old scribe have for joining a war?”

I hesitate. Solange isn’t known for her patience. If I tell the truth, this will go one of two ways, and if I lie, only one way.

With a huff, she grabs hold of my arm and drags me into a nearby tent, shooing away its occupants—messenger casters, all of them, their homing pigeons waiting patiently in wire crates. “Do not think because you are elderly and that the Prime is not here that I will not punish you myself.” Sliding off her helm and mask, she sets them on a crate and wipes away the beads of sweat from her brow. “Did Allegra send you?”

My lips purse. I know Solange has little love for Ybaris, but beyond that, I don’t know where she would stand on any of this.

“Do you think I have not noticed how much time you two spend together? All the corners the Second and the Master Scribe whisper in?” She shakes her head, her chestnut-brown braids slipping over her shoulder. “I suggest you start telling me what you know before the queen summons me and I am forced to reveal a conspiracy within Mordain’s ranks without understanding it first.”

Solange may hate the queen, but she follows rank and file, and she would go to Neilina out of spite to stifle the other Second’s schemes. I have no choice. “The queen summoned Aoife twenty-five years ago, with the help of Caster Ianca, to create a weapon against Islor in the form of Princess Romeria.”

Solange’s nostrils flare as she struggles to control her temper. She already accused the queen of as much. “How about something that we don’t all already know and are ignoring?”

“The scribes have never ignored it,” I snap, my patience worn.

Solange folds her arms across her chest, a smug smile curling her lips as if she thinks she has walked me into a corner. “So, it is the scribes who conspire?”

“We do not conspire. We guide and we educate, and we prepare, as Ybaris’s queen leads us to ruin and our own leaders bow to her perpetual deceit in favor of retaining their positions of power. We devote a life of servitude to knowledge while you all sneer and mock our purpose, and yet it is our work that uncovered the true danger behind the queen’s treachery, that allows us to see that which you do not yet.” I quote the line burned into my skull. “‘When she rose again as a Daughter of Many and a Queen for All, only then could there be hope for peace among the peoples.’”

Solange’s arrogance fades but in its place is not her typical biting anger. Instead, I see a hint of worry. “What do you mean by that?”

I sigh. Perhaps the one about to escort so many to their deaths should know what lies ahead. “I can explain everything, but it will require that you indulge prophecy.”





CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN




ZANDER


I have seen more than a thousand of Hudem’s moons in my life, and yet each time, my heart skips a beat as if spotting its sudden outline in the crisp morning sky is a surprise.

“Your Highness.” Abarrane dips her head. “The saplings are safely in Soldor.”

“Thank you for ensuring that.” Not that I am overly worried about betrayal within the camp after last night’s wyvern defeat. “Any sign of the taillok?” I have searched the sky, but there is still no hint of its iridescent feathers.

Abarrane shakes her head.

“Romeria may not have anything to report,” Elisaf says.

“Nothing to report still deserves a report,” Abarrane counters.

She’s right. Worry gnaws at my conscience. I should have received a letter by now. Romeria would not wait.

Something has gone terribly wrong.

Elisaf pats my shoulder. “I will stand watch and let you know the moment it arrives. Get a few hours of rest while you can.”

“I will not be able to rest. Besides, it seems I have company.” I nod toward Gaellar, who marches toward my tent. Her tent, until I arrived.

“Your Highness.” She bows, offering a sideways glance at Abarrane.

“Did you gain the insight you wanted from Radomir?” He sat with us for hours, answering questions and suggesting tips for the various beasts they’ve crossed paths with, until they had to return to the shadows. Even I learned a thing or two, and it was impossible to miss the sapling leader’s light mood. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he enjoyed the comradery, the respect.

“Very much, though I do not know how much use it will be for us. We have yet to see a nethertaur or a hag around these parts.”

Abarrane clears her throat, a subtle way of expressing her displeasure with me for not revealing the truth.