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

Far ahead in the evening dusk, four silhouettes canter forward on horseback. They’re nothing but tiny specks that even my eyes can’t decipher, the navy blue and white Lyndel banner waving high above them. But Telor will be among them. He’s never been one to send a messenger to negotiate a surrender or launch a battle. He has too much pride for that. “My horse.”

I expect Abarrane to answer the call, but it’s Romeria who rides out, leading my black stallion by its reins next to her chocolate-brown one. Whatever doubts the Ybarisans have of this alliance with Islor, they seem to stand taller at the sight of her. The truth about King Barris’s assassination has penetrated the ranks and, as Kienen expected, their anger is potent. No one has opposed following Ybaris’s heir to the throne.

Yet, that little voice screams.

But each day forward will only bring more danger, more dark truths. Too many bad actors with access, too many easy mistakes to be had.

If I were to lose her, I think I might burn this entire realm.

I climb into my saddle. “It’s amazing how proficient a rider you’ve become.” I still remember that first day, riding through the streets of Cirilea with her ramrod back and her obscenely poofy dress.

“Jarek’s a good teacher.” Her beautiful, clear blue eyes squint as she tries to make out the figures ahead. “Do you think Telor’s already sent a message to Atticus about us being here?”

“Yes, but it won’t get there before the taillok does.” Gesine confirmed the bird would arrive in Cirilea by sunrise, its wings capable of speed like nothing we’ve ever seen before. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I nod toward the enemy line.

“What do you mean? I love meeting people who want me dead,” she mutters wryly. But the humor slips as she adds, “At least now they have a good reason. I can’t blame Princess Romeria for what I’ve done.”

I want to collect her face in my palms, kiss her worries away. But now is not the time for that. Maybe my words will offer her some comfort. “You have been a tool all along, for the fates, for prophecy, for politics. The blame does not sit on your shoulders, and I will quiet anyone who suggests otherwise.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, but thank you for saying it.”

Others ride up to our flanks then, our commanders taking their rightful places by our sides, Elisaf and Kienen next to them. Gesine holds tight to Zorya on their horse, and Radomir hides within his deep cowl.

“On your lead, Your Highness.” Abarrane’s horse prances in anticipation.

We begin forward in two lines.

I ignite each bonfire as we pass it, creating a blazing path. If nothing else, it should serve as a warning to anyone with nefarious ideas. Lord Telor, I do not worry about. He is too principled.

Abarrane’s glance over her shoulder at the soldiers behind us says she’s thinking the same thing. “What parlor tricks should we expect from you, Ybarisan?” she asks Kienen. “What do you hide in your little pocket?”

“A big blade, Islorian,” Kienen retorts.

“I’m sure it won’t impress me.”

I’ve seen the way Abarrane prowls around him, and I know my commander well. She’s enjoying baiting him more than usual, which usually means she has plans to have him on his back to perform for her before too long. That won’t keep her from putting a blade through him after, though.

“Twenty gold coins, I’ll wager,” Elisaf whispers, and I stifle the urge to laugh. His thoughts are along the same as mine.

“What is your affinity to, Kienen?” Romeria asks.

His eyebrow arches. It’s a subtle tell, but one all the same. Would Princess Romeria know Kienen well enough to have that answer already?

I sense her heart rate spiking with her mistake, but she recovers quickly. “Aminadav, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Though I do not rely on it often.”

Romeria’s pulse radiates with a wave of relief, her blind guess a lucky one.

But Kienen’s gaze on her remains curious, and I can’t be sure it’s worked.

I hate that she must play this role again, but if the Ybarisan knew the person inside this body was not the heir to the throne, would she still have his loyalty?

“True warriors do not rely on it at all,” Jarek pipes up, either because he’s read the situation as well, or simply to throw a shot across the bow at Kienen.

I smile. “You know, Jarek, it would not hurt you to learn how to use yours. It’s another viable weapon to wield in your role to protect Ulysede’s queen.”

“Aye, I will be sure to take your advice, Your Highness, as soon as my corpse is rotting in the ground.”

A deafening screech in the distance pulls everyone’s attention to the north.

“Maybe those bonfires aren’t the best idea,” Elisaf says. “They’re like beacons in the night.”

“You won’t be saying that when another hag springs out from the shadows,” I retort, though there are far worse things than that creature. It, at least, is easy enough to kill with fire.

“The number of Nulling beasts crawling out of their nests is increasing each day,” Kienen notes mildly. “Has anyone else observed this?”

“There have been more than expected as of late.” I steal a glance Romeria’s way, to see her jaw tensing, her wary attention on the dusky sky as if something might swoop down at any moment. “Let’s hope this one keeps its distance. Hold the line here.” We’ve passed the last bonfire, and my connection to the flame is weakening.

We stop and watch as the forms ahead take a clearer shape. I can make out Telor’s silver-white hair at the center. The other riders wear their helms, obscuring their faces, though I imagine his son, Braylon, is among them. He has always been brash and would not miss his chance to see me ahead of a battle.

Telor raises a single hand and they stop their approach. He guides his horse forward.

As I expected, he wants a private parley. “Remain here. I will meet with him alone first—”

“I do not think that’s wise,” Jarek interrupts. “Lord Telor is following Atticus’s order, and if what the Ybarisan says is true, there are compromised soldiers within his ranks.”

“I will meet with Telor first alone,” I repeat with bite in my voice. Abarrane may be surly, but at least she doesn’t question me in front of others. “I trust Telor as I do Rengard. He is noble. He follows the rules of engagement and will not attempt anything untoward during parley, regardless of what he thinks of me. We are like-minded in what we stand for.” And I have things hidden deep within my chest of knowledge that I can use to remind him of that. “The issues with his ranks, we will deal with later. Remain here.”

“Have you decided how much you’re going to tell him yet?” Romeria asks, worry furrowing her brow.

“No, but I figured I’d follow your lead for once and wait for the answer to come to me.”

“Good luck with that.” She reaches out to squeeze my forearm.

With a deep breath, I guide my horse forward, across the craggy ground. Fighting a battle on such uneven terrain will be unpleasant, but hopefully we will not have to fight one at all.

“You are full of surprises as of late, Zander Ascelin, First of His Name,” Telor calls out, he and his white stallion cloaked in matching navy blue coats. They stall, forcing me to move in farther, putting me farther from reach of my flame.