Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Brother, stop!” Tamír shouted. “Don’t touch him. I forbid you!”

To Ki’s amazement, Brother halted and glared back at her.

“This is my fight! Go away,” Tamír ordered, as she used to when they were all children.

Brother curled his lip at her, but faded away.

“What sort of trick is this?” Korin demanded.

“It’s me, Kor,” Tamír called back. “That was my brother, or would have been. He was killed to protect me from your father.”

“No!”

“It’s a trick, just as Lord Niryn said,” Moriel scoffed.

“You’re wrong, Toad,” Lutha shouted back.

“You!” Moriel’s shock was almost comical.

“You should know better about necromancy than anyone, after being Niryn’s lapdog. Where is your master, anyway? I’m surprised he’s let you off the lead, you ass-licker!”

Moriel’s expression was poisonous. “He wasn’t wrong about you was he, traitor?”

Ki glanced away and locked eyes with Caliel. He gave Ki a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Damn it,” Ki muttered, waving to him.

“Who are you really?” Korin demanded. “Show your face if you dare!”

Tamír pulled off her helmet and pulled back her mail coif. “It’s me, Kor, as I was meant to be. Caliel can vouch for me. Just ask him. We don’t have to fight anymore. Talk with me. Let me show you the proof—”

“Liar!” Korin spat back, but Ki thought he sounded uncertain.

“I must be queen, Korin, but you’re still my kin. Fighting you is like fighting my own brother. Please, we can make peace here, once and for all. I swear on my honor that you’ll have your rightful place at my side. I’ll grant amnesty to all who’ve backed you.”

“Honor?” Alben jeered. “What’s the word of an oath breaker worth?”

Ki clutched his sword as more swordsmen stepped from the trees behind Korin. “What the hell are you thinking, Tamír, just standing here like this? We’re outnumbered three to one at least!”

“He’ll listen to me, now that he’s seen the truth,” she replied softly. “He has to!”

Still rocked by the sight of the demon, Korin stared at this girl who claimed to be his cousin. “Tobin?” he whispered, warring against the evidence of his own eyes.

Her sudden, unexpected smile—Tobin’s smile—nearly undid him. “I’m Tamír, just as I wrote you. Lutha said you got my letter.”

“Lies!”

“No, Kor. Tobin was the lie. I am Ariani’s daughter. I swear it by the Flame and the Four.”

Korin could hardly breathe.

Nothing but a boy in a dress , Niryn’s voice whispered in his mind. Korin wanted to cling to that belief now as a sick feeling of certainty swept over him. If Tobin—if she— spoke the truth, then Caliel had been right all along. Niryn had lied to him and manipulated him. Cal had been ready to hang to make Korin see sense, and he’d nearly killed him for it.

“We can be friends again,” Tobin said.

“A trick!” Moriel insisted.

A trick! A trick! A trick! Niryn’s cold voice whispered in his memory.

“Majesty, where are you?”

Tamír could hear Nyanis shouting in the distance behind them, louder than the sounds of battle still coming from the field.

“Here!” Una called back.

There were voices calling to Korin as well, and Tamír could hear others coming to reinforce him. There was going to be a bloody fight here unless she could make Korin believe her.

She kept her eyes fixed on him, like a hawk she was trying to tame. She knew him so well; she could see the way he was struggling with himself. Hope made her catch her breath.

By blood and trial, you must hold your throne. From the Usurper’s hand you will wrest the Sword .

No! she thought . It doesn’t have to be like that! I can make him listen! Brother brought us together so we could settle this . Smiling again, she held out her hand.

“Korin, strike. You have the greater force,” Porion urged. “Strike now!”

“Yes! We can crush Tobin once and for all,” Alben whispered.

Caliel touched Korin’s arm, saying nothing, but his eyes were pleading.

Tamír dropped her helmet and pushed past Ki and Lynx. “It can end now, Korin,” she said, still holding out her hand to him. “Give me the Sword of Ghërilain and—”

Give me the Sword—

Korin went cold all over. He’d spoken those same words to his father, that night in Ero, and still burned with shame at the memory of how his father’s hands had tightened on the hilt and his eyes had gone hard. Only one hand wields the Sword of Ghërilain. While I have breath in my body, I am still king. Be content with proving yourself worthy of it .

Korin’s hand clenched around the hilt as all the old rage and guilt and sorrow came rushing back, drowning doubt, drowning love. “No, I am king!”

Tamír saw the fatal shift. She had just enough time to scoop up her fallen helmet and jam it back on before Korin’s men rushed her band. Only Korin hung back, and Caliel with him.

Tamír was not surprised to find herself facing Alben in the midst of the fray. There had never been much friendship between them, and she saw none in his eyes now as he closed with her. He’d always been a fierce match and Tamír was hard put to hold her own against him. She pressed him grimly, seeing no hint of remorse in his eyes as they slashed at each other.

The clearing was full of fighters now, leaving little room for fancy maneuvering. They hacked at one another like woodchoppers. At some point a dagger appeared in Alben’s left hand and he tried to stab her in the ribs as they locked hilts. Her mail held off the point, and she elbowed him hard in the face, breaking his nose. He staggered back, and she drove her knee into his groin, sending him to the ground.

“Tamír, behind you!” Ki yelled, fending off a man wielding a cudgel.

Tamír ducked as she turned and narrowly missed being struck in the head by Moriel.

“Demon bitch!” He kicked her hard in the knee to unbalance her and raised his blade to strike again.

Snarling in pain, Tamír staggered and brought the tip of her blade up to catch him in the throat as he came on, but Moriel sidestepped her awkward attempt.

Lutha appeared out of the chaos and sprang at Moriel, grappling with him and knocking him away from Tamír.

She left him to it and looked around for Alben, but instead found herself facing Caliel. He had his sword up, ready for an attack, but he didn’t move.

“I don’t want your blood, Cal.”

“I don’t want yours,” he replied, and she heard the pain behind the words as he raised his sword to strike.

Tamír raised her own to block it, but before their blades could meet she saw a blur of motion from the left and the flash of steel. Caliel’s helmet flew off and, empty-eyed, he crumpled to the ground. Nikides stood over him, clutching his bloody blade in both hands, chest heaving. “Tamír, behind you!”

Not knowing if Cal was alive or dead, she whirled and caught the blade of a tall warrior. As she held him, Ki lunged under the man’s guard and stabbed him in the throat.

Ki pressed his back to hers, panting raggedly and clutching his sword in both hands. “Are you hurt?”

“Not yet.” She put weight on her knee where Moriel had kicked her to make sure it wouldn’t fail her. “Where’s Korin?”

“I don’t see him.”

This way, Sister , Brother hissed in her ear. She turned and caught a glimpse of Korin’s banner near the edge of the clearing.

A spearman thrust at her, only to fall dead where he stood, with Brother gloating over him.

“This is my fight!” Tamír shouted at him, even as she rushed to take advantage of the opening he’d made for her.