James West - Queen of the North

Aedran slid off the table. “I should explain.”

“Keep your explanations,” Erryn said, following him down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she began striding away. His grip fell on her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off. When that failed, she made to pry his fingers away. It was a wasted effort.

He spun her around, pushed his face close to hers. “You will hear me out.”

“So be it,” she snapped.

Aedran’s glare softened. “Prythians always choose queens. It has been that way from the time of our ancestors. And our queens are more than women with crowns to the people of Pryth.”

“What more can we be?”

His gaze wandered over her face. “Our queens speak with the voices of the gods, they guide us wisely, command us boldly and justly.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” She had heard tales of kings and queens who named themselves gods, but she vowed never to be such a one.

“As I told you before, this night we bared ourselves to you in a way that we never have to any outlander. By doing so, we have chosen you to be our true queen.”

“You said yourself that I am no queen,” she said bitterly. “In truth, though I named myself one and the folk of Valdar supported me, I have no mind for making war, or keeping peace, or ruling people. I have no crown, no throne, no banner. You speak often of past ages and histories, but those are only stories to me- new stories, at that. I’m an ignorant orphan who spent most of her life thieving and lying to survive. If you need a place to sleep where the rats are fewest, or desire an apple that’s not as wormy as the rest in the barrel, I can find those things. A true queen would know how to be rid of the rats. A true queen would ensure all the apples in her realm are sweet and good. I am no queen .”

“You misunderstand the abilities of queens,” Aedran said with a gentle smile. “That aside, whatever you were before matters nothing now. You’ll learn all you need to know. In the meantime, you are our chosen queen-the Queen of Pryth. You stand above us, as have all our queens before you. A Prythian queen must represent the will, mind, and soul of our gods. Such a woman would be soiled by the touch of a mere warrior.”

A single flame of hope flickered in her breast. “Then I renounce my title.”

“What has been done in the sight of your army cannot be undone … save by death.”

Death? Is he mad? “I want to go back to Valdar,” she said, struggling for breath.

His brow creased with regret. “It’s too late for that. You have a duty now to your army and the folk of Pryth.”

“If I’m so esteemed, how can you deny me?” she demanded.

“A Prythian queen would never stand against the destiny of her people.”

She stepped closer to him. “What if I do? What if I refuse what you’ve placed upon my shoulders?”

His face hardened. “Then I’d be expected to kill you for a betrayer. You’re a part of us now, and it’s expected that you’ll behave so, lest some begin to think your heart harbors the same treachery that destroyed our ancestors.”

“I hired you blood-hungry fools to serve me, not the other way around.”

“We will serve you … as long as you serve us by embracing your new purpose.” Aedran stepped closer. “Accept and rejoice in that you’ll be queen of more than you ever dreamed.”

“Only if I behave as I’m expected to, which is to say if I behave in ways that serve Pryth?”

“Aye.”

“I never wanted anything but to help my people, those who’d suffered under the thumb of Lord Sanouk….” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “It was you .”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes,” Erryn grated. “You put the seed into my head to murder King Nabar’s emissary, and then to cross the Gyntors into the Iron Marches. You knew this would happen all along, didn’t you? All this about me becoming your queen and the voice of your gods. I don’t even know your gods! Ilex is my god-a god of thieves-not Ahnok, nor the God of the Mountains, with his crazed Thousand Daughters. You’ve been manipulating me from the beginning, turning me to do your will.”

He didn’t bother to deny the accusation. “At first, I only wanted to earn the gold and glory you offered, and to win you a proper crown from King Nabar. But all isn’t lost. Now that you’re the Queen of Pryth, we are bound to destroy Nabar, as was your deepest wish all along. In time, we will do that.”

Erryn shook her head. “Only as long as I serve the will of the army I bought! ”

“Do not look at it that way.”

“There is no other way to look at it. I was freer as an orphan than I’ll ever be as your queen. Can you not see that you have chained me the way your ancestors were chained? Can you not see that your queens are but pretties placed on a high seat and told what to say and what to think, never truly leading at all?”

Aedran scrubbed a hand through his hair. “That’s nonsense!” He began stammering some explanation, but she cut him off.

“I want to sleep,” Erryn said woodenly, turning away.

This time, he let her go.

Using a shovel with a flat wooden blade, Rathe tromped across the Lamprey’s deck and pushed a load of snow over the side. Although the air felt warmer, the ice on the River Sedge was thickening. The sound of it crunching against the cog’s bow and under the six pairs of stroking oars made a hellish din.

Loro perched on a nearby barrel, sharpening his sword. Falling snow had crowned the hood of his bearskin cloak. “I thought sure we paid for passage aboard this leaky tub,” he said offhandedly.

Rathe scooped another line of snow over the side. “We did.” He paused to arm sweat from his brow. Where he had just shoveled, fat flakes were already whitening the deck again. If the storm kept up, it would be a long day and a longer night.

Loro looked up from testing the edge of his sword with a thumb. “Then why are you working so damned hard at something the crew is supposed to do?”

“What else am I to do?”

“ Relax ,” Loro said, shoving his sword into the scabbard. “Let these wretches do their chores.”

Rathe set to work again. “Sitting still makes me nervous.”

With a shake of his head, Loro shucked his dagger and began running the sharpening stone over the blade. “That’s a sickness, brother. Must be. Why, I could lay about half the day, and not feel a bit of unease.”

Rathe gave him a lopsided grinned. “When I’m your age, I’ll likely feel the same.”

“I’m not so old as that, you spindly shit. I just look it because my hair started falling out when I was still on the teat.” Loro scratched his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “No, I expect your need to labor is on account of being fidgety. For myself,” he went on, ignoring Rathe’s scowl, “I see no need to exert myself without reason. Waste of energy.”

“Some call that sloth,” Rathe laughed, arming more sweat from his brow.

Loro grinned wryly. “Fidgety folk invented the word sloth to make themselves feel better about being so fidgety. Look at you, working up a sweat on such a cold day. None of the crewmen are working so hard.”

Rathe glanced at the sailors in question, and wondered what Loro saw that he didn’t. A few held their hands over a smoldering brazier near the mainmast, but the rest were taking turns clearing the deck of snow, or knocking ice from the rails, yardarms, and shrouds. Gnat used a long brass eyeglass to search the banks of the river. After the first glimpse of Edrik’s company shadowing the Lamprey , they hadn’t been seen since.