Gail Martin - The Sworn

“Your Majesty,” he said and greeted Berry with a hurried bow, as if he was reminding himself about her recent change from princess to queen. “It’s so good to have you home again, although I wish it were under other circumstances.”

Berry’s gaze strayed past Jencin, to a scorched mark on the cobblestones of the bailey courtyard where Staden’s pyre would have been. “Me, too, Jencin. Me, too.” She collected herself, and her features slipped into regal neutrality. Jonmarc began to wonder if it was something royals practiced from birth. “You remember Jonmarc Vahanian, my Champion, and Captain Gellyr?”

Jencin smiled. “Of course. I’m glad your ride was a safe one.”

Jonmarc nodded. “So far.” Jencin looked at him as if he suspected there was a story behind the comment, but he said nothing as Berry continued with the introductions.

“Kolin and Laisren are emissaries of the Blood Council,” Berry said with a nod. Both men inclined their heads in greeting. “And Anton and Serg represent the vyrkin packs. Aidane is the liaison for the dead,” Berry said with a totally straight face. Aidane swallowed wrong and began to cough; Jonmarc suspected she was utterly unprepared to be introduced as a visiting diplomat.

“M’lady, do you think it wise-”

“I do, or I wouldn’t have brought them.” Berry’s voice was sharp. She might have left Principality City as a girl, but she was returning as a queen, and as fond as Jonmarc knew she was of Jencin, old roles had to change. “I am queen of Principality, the living, dead, and undead. These are difficult times. If we expect the allegiance of all our subjects, then we must recognize and reward their fealty.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Jencin led them into the palace. The servants they passed made low bows, welcoming Berry. Jonmarc watched as she swept by them, acknowledging them and thanking them. He wondered how many of them could see the strain in her face, the effort it was taking for Berry to return home, knowing that Staden was gone forever.

Jonmarc had a chance to brief Berry before they arrived on the plan he and Gellyr had concocted, and she agreed with him. Best not to start off her reign by forcing the military into something, even if she turned out to be right. They’d see if Gellyr’s uncle would act as a go-between with Hant. If not, Berry would take the issue to Hant herself. “The festival was well attended when we rode through,” Berry commented.

“Yes, m’lady. We didn’t think it wise to cancel festivities, even with your father’s passing. Such energy needs a release.” Jencin looked nervous, and Jonmarc wondered if the seneschal was fully prepared for Berry’s sudden return.

Berry gave a sad smile. “Father would never have stood for the festival being changed. It was one of his favorites. Better to remember how well he loved a feast.”

“That he did, m’lady, better than anyone.”

“Still,” Berry said, pausing as if the idea was only just occurring to her, “it might do to have more guards about, to keep the peace.”

“M’lady?”

“I’m not yet formally crowned. As the vyrkin say, the most dangerous time is between what was and what will be. It might tempt some revelers to get out of hand, knowing that Father is gone.”

Jencin gave her a look that said he suspected there was more to it, but he did not question. “A wise observation, m’lady. I’ll notify the guards and ask for additional men. I’ll request that they remain vigilant but not heavy-handed.”

Berry nodded. “Thank you.”

They had moved out of the public areas of the palace and into the private rooms. As they walked, Jencin assigned the visitors to their rooms, with Aidane’s quarters on one side of Berry’s rooms and Jonmarc’s on the other. “As for the vayash moru, I can open the crypts in the cellars. You won’t be disturbed.” Jencin glanced from Kolin to Laisren. “And for meals, am I correct that deer or goat blood is acceptable?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jencin looked relieved, and Jonmarc suppressed a smile. “The vyrkin will be quite happy with meat, so the deer and goat will be appreciated,” Jonmarc said, with a nod in the direction of Anton and Serg. “Tell the kitchen not to bother cooking it.”

Jencin glanced at the vyrkin. His hand fluttered a bit at his side, but he controlled his nervousness. “Absolutely. I’ll see to it right away.”

“Jencin, what are the coronation plans?” It was Berry who spoke, and Jonmarc could see in her eyes the strain of maintaining her composure.

Jencin’s voice softened as he turned to her. “We’re all agreed that soonest is best. Your father left some unfinished business that can’t wait. Now that you’re here, I’ll convene the nobles at the tenth bells. You’ll find the robes of office in your room. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing a coronation gown. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Berry nodded, as if the selection of a dress was the furthest thing from her mind. “We’ll have the ceremony here at the palace,” Jencin continued, “to make it official with the nobles and the heads of the merchant guilds. Then tomorrow night, the custom is for the new monarch to journey to the Lover’s Temple to receive the crown from the Sacred Vessels and perhaps receive a blessing from the Lady. In this case, falling on the Feast of the Departed, we’ll go to the dais in the city for you to make your offering and hear the prophecy.”

Having the Black Robes disrupt the festival is bad enough. Having them endanger the new queen makes this a whole new game. Jonmarc looked at Gellyr, and from the look on the captain’s face, Jonmarc guessed Gellyr was thinking the same thing.

“Is it really necessary? I mean, the part about going out to the dais in the middle of the festival?” Berry’s voice suddenly sounded fatigued, and while Jonmarc was sure that some of it was real, he was aware of just how good an actress Berry could be when necessary. He was betting she’d realized the danger as well.

“Without it, you haven’t fulfilled the requirements of coronation, Your Majesty,” Jencin said apologetically. “I can only guess how much strain you’re under, especially after your ride. But we must do everything correctly, to avoid a challenge.”

Berry nodded. “I’m just not in a festival mood this year. You understand, I’m sure.”

“Of course, m’lady.”

“With the queen’s permission,” Gellyr said, clearing his throat, “I have some duties to attend to and some things to arrange.”

“Yes, please,” Berry replied. Jonmarc knew Gellyr went to send a message to his uncle to arrange a meeting after the coronation.

“I’ve had servants draw baths for you, to refresh you after your ride,” Jencin said with a glance to Jonmarc and the others. “You’ll also find food and drink in your rooms.” He looked to Jonmarc. “As Queen’s Champion, you’ll have a role in the ceremony. I remember that you had a fondness for wearing your sword even in the presence of the king,” he said with the barest trace of a smile. “That won’t be a problem.”

“Good, because I’m wearing it anyhow.”

The candlemarks passed quickly, and tenth bells found a group of twenty people convened for the coronation. Some of the nobles looked vaguely familiar from his stay in the Principality court, but Jonmarc could not put names with the faces. He fervently hoped that the nobles would defer to Berry and that he would have no reason to get to know any of the nobility better. In his experience, the only reason for one of the Council of Nobles to come to his attention would be if they caused a problem. They had enough problems with the Black Robes.

Jencin led the procession into the room. All the waiting guests stood. Berry followed Jencin, looking regal in her elegant gown of Mussa silk. Her elaborate royal robes were covered with Noorish embroidery that seemed to move and shift. Berry wore the gold circlet that she had received in Dark Haven. Jonmarc followed in the procession, wearing all black, as he preferred when forced to be at court. Gellyr and three other guards followed, and while they were in their dress uniforms, Jonmarc noticed that they were all well armed. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, making him feel ever-so-slightly more at ease. The doors shut behind them.