Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Dead.” Nalia could scarcely get her breath. I have no husband now, my child no father …

“You must come with me,” Alben insisted. “I will protect you.”

“Would you?” First Niryn, who’d betrayed her, then Korin, who could not love her, and now this man, who’d never had a kind word for her before? Who’d snickered openly about her homely face? He would be her Protector? Tomara was already flying around the room, throwing open the clothes chests and pulling out garments to pack.

“Highness?” Alben was waiting for her answer.

She looked up at him, into those dark eyes full of panic, and something else. Something she recognized all too well. She withdrew her hand from his and stood up. “Thank you for your gracious offer, Lord Alben, but I must decline.”

“Are you mad? Tobin and her army are on my heels!”

“Her? Then it was true, all along?”

“I saw her with my own eyes.”

Another lie, Niryn?

“Lady, listen to him! You must escape, and you cannot take to the roads alone!” Tomara begged.

“No.” Nalia replied firmly. “I thank you for your offer, my lord, but I see no advantage in it. I will remain here and take my chances with this queen, whatever she is. If you would help me, take command of the garrison and see to the defenses. Go and make whatever preparations you think best.”

“It’s the shock, my lord,” said Tomara. “Let her rest and think on it. Come back in the morning.”

“He may do as he likes, but my answer will be the same,” said Nalia.

“As you wish, Highness.” Alben bowed and took his leave.

“Oh, my poor lady! A widow before you’re a mother!” Tomara sobbed, embracing her.

Nalia did weep then, as the reality of her situation sank in. She wept for Korin, but her sorrow was mingled with guilt. Her hope of his love had been short-lived, and she’d dashed it with her own hand when she’d killed Niryn. She wanted to mourn her husband, but instead she could only imagine what a lifetime of his coldness and duty would have been like.

Whatever comes, at least I’m spared that .

Nalia dried her eyes and went back to her bed. She fell asleep searching for the proper sorrow in her heart but could not find it.

When she woke again the sun was high and all was quiet outside. She sent Tomara off for their breakfast. She had no proper widow’s weeds, so instead she put on her finest gown—the one she’d meant to wear for Korin on his return.

Tomara came back empty-handed and frantic. “They’re gone!”

“Who?”

“All of them!” the woman wailed. “Lord Alben, the soldiers, everyone, except for a few servants. What are we to do?”

Nalia went to the tower door. For the first time, there was no one there to stop her from leaving. A feeling of dreamlike unreality came over her as she descended the stairs with only Tomara to attend her. Together they passed through the deserted corridors to the great hall.

There was no one in sight but Korin’s abandoned hounds. They trotted up to her, whining and wagging their tails. Nalia went out into the courtyard and found the northern gate ajar. For the first time since the nightmare of her captivity began, she passed through and walked down the road a little way, marveling at her own freedom.

“We must run away,” Tomara urged. “Come down to the village with me. I have people there. They’ll hide you, get you away in a fishing boat—”

“And go where?” Nalia wondered, gazing up at the sky. It looked as empty as she felt. “I have no one in the world now. Do what you like, but I’ll stay.”

Nalia retreated to her tower. No longer her prison, it was the only place in this great fortress that she had ever called her own.

Early that evening a shout came from the lookout on the south wall. Through the gathering dusk Nalia could make out a dark mass of riders on the road, coming on at a gallop. She could not guess their number for the great cloud of dust that hung over them, but she could see the dull glint of helms and spearpoints.

Fear gripped her then, as the reality of her own helpless state sank in.

There’s no help for it now , she told herself. She smoothed her hair and gown and descended to the great hall to meet her fate.

Tomara clung close beside her as she ascended the dais and for the first time, sat in the chair that had been Korin’s. Presently a stableboy came running in. “It’s a herald, my lady, and Lord Lutha! Shall I let them in?”

“Lord Lutha?” What could this mean? “Yes, bring them to me.”

Lutha and Nyanis had been prepared for resistance, not to find the fortress abandoned and the gate open to them. Arkoniel was equally suspicious, but there’d been no sign of ambush. The soldiers and the wizards were simply gone.

A frightened boy greeted them from the walls and returned with word that Lady Nalia welcomed them.

Lutha left Nyanis and the Aurënfaie, taking only Arkoniel and the herald with him into the echoing courtyard. There too, it was eerily deserted.

Nalia was waiting for them in the great hall, seated on the dais in Korin’s place. Tomara was her only attendant.

Nalia gave him an uncertain smile. “I am glad to see you alive, my lord, but it appears you have changed your allegiance. Word of the king’s death has already reached us here. Lord Alben brought word, before he fled.”

“Korin died bravely,” Lutha told her. Tamír had told him no more than that before he left. “Queen Tamír sent me to you at once, to ensure your safety, and to tell you that you have nothing to fear from her if you do not stand against her claim.”

“I see.” She glanced at Arkoniel. “And who are you?”

“Master Arkoniel, wizard and friend of Queen Tamír.” Seeing her eyes widen at that, he added quickly, “Highness, I have come only to protect you.”

Lutha wished there was something more he could say or do to reassure her, but knew she had good cause to be wary.

Nonetheless, she maintained her dignity and turned to the herald. “What is your message?”

“Queen Tamír of Skala sends her respects to her kinswoman, Princess Nalia, widow of Prince Korin. It is with great sorrow that she sends word of Prince Korin’s death. She offers you and your unborn child her royal protection.”

“Yet she sends an army with the message.” Nalia sat very straight, gripping the arms of her chair.

“Queen Tamír assumed Korin had left you better protected. She did not expect you to be deserted,” Lutha replied, trying not to let his anger show.

She waved a hand around. “As you can see, my court has diminished considerably.”

“We were told that Lord Niryn died,” said Arkoniel.

Nalia lifted her chin a little. “Yes. Lord Lutha, at whose hand did my husband die?”

“He and Queen Tamír met in single combat. She offered parley, but he would not have it. They fought, and he fell.”

“And you wear the queen’s colors now.”

“Tamír, who was Prince Tobin, is my friend. She took us all in after we escaped from here. Barieus and I serve with her Companions. She sent me ahead, thinking a familiar face might reassure you. She pledges by the Four that she means no harm to you or your child. It’s the truth, I swear.”

“And what of Lord Caliel?”

“He went back to Korin and fought beside him.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, only wounded.”

“I am glad to hear it. And now what? What is to become of me and my child?”

“I’m to conduct you back to her camp. As a kinswoman, Highness, not as a prisoner.”

Nalia laughed softly at that, but still looked sad. “It seems I have no choice but to accept her hospitality.”

Here I am again , thought Nalia, watching the activity of the newcomers from her balcony later that night. At least this time it’s by my own choice .