Michael Sullivan - Nyphron rising

"Royce and Hadrian had intercepted plans drafted by Breckton himself. He was about to launch a three-pronged assault. I had to make a preemptive strike. I was hoping to catch the Imperials by surprise."

"Well, it looks like it worked out after all. It delayed their attack just long enough."

"True, but what good will that do us if we can't find more help. What about Trent?"

"Well, they haven't said no, but they haven't said yes either. The church's influence has never been strong that far north, but they also don't have any ties to us. They are at least willing to wait and watch. They won't join us because they don't think we have a chance. But if we can show them some success they could be persuaded to side with us.

"Don't they realize the Empire will be after them next?"

"I said that, but…"

"But what?"

"They really weren't very amenable to what I had to say. The men of Lanksteer are brutish and backward. They respect only strength. I would have fared better if I'd beaten their king senseless." She hesitated. "I don't think they quite knew what to make of me."

"I should never have sent you," he said, running a hand over his face. "What was I thinking, making a woman an ambassador."

His words felt like a slap. "I could have been disadvantaged in Trent, but in the rest of the kingdoms I don't think the fact I was a woman-"

"A witch then," Alric lashed out, "even worse. All those Warric and Alburn nobles are so devoted, and what do I do? I send them someone the church tried for witchcraft."

"I'm not a witch!" she snapped. "I wasn't convicted of anything, and everyone with a brain between their ears knows that trial was a fabrication of Braga and Saldur to get their hands on our throne."

"The truth doesn't matter. Everyone believes what the church tells them. They said you're a witch, so that makes it so. Look at Modina. The Patriarch claims she's the Heir of Novron, the descendant of the god Maribor and everyone believes. I should have never made an enemy of the church. But between Saldur's betrayal and their sentinels killing Fanen, I just couldn't bring myself to bend my knee.

"When I evicted the priests and forbade Deacon Thomas from preaching about what happened in Dahlgren, the people revolted. They set shops in Gentry Square on fire. I could see the flames from my window, for Maribor's sake. The whole city could have burned. They were calling for my head-people right in front of the castle burning stuffed images of me and shouting 'Death to the godless king!' I had to use the army to restore order. It's quiet now, but the people are restless." Alric reached up and pulled his crown off, turning the golden circlet over in his hands.

"I was in Caren at the court of King Armand when I heard about that," Arista said, shaking her head.

Alric laid the crown on the arm of the throne, closed his eyes, and softly banged his head against the back of the chair. "What are we going to do, Arista? The Imperials will return. As soon as they deal with Gaunt's rabble the army will come back." His eyes opened and his hand drifted absently toward his throat. "I suppose they'll hang me won't they, or do they use the axe on kings?" His tone was one of quiet acceptance, which surprised her.

The carefree boy she once knew was vanishing before her eyes. Even if the Empire failed and Melengar stood strong, Alric would never be the same. In many ways, their uncle had managed to kill him after all.

Alric looked at the crown sitting on the chair's arm. "I wonder what Father would do?"

"He never had anything like this to deal with. Not since Tolin defeated Lothomad at Drondil Fields has any monarch of Melengar faced invasion."

"Lucky me."

"Lucky us."

Alric nodded. "At least we've got some time now. That's something. What do you think of Pickering's idea to send the Ellis Far down the coast to Tur Del Fur and contact the Nationalist leader-this Gaunt fellow?"

"Honestly, I think establishing an alliance with Gaunt is our only hope. Isolated we don't stand a chance against the Empire," Arista agreed.

"But the Nationalists? Are they any better than the Imperials? They're as much opposed to monarchies as they are the Empire. They don't want to be ruled at all."

"Alone and surrounded by enemies is not the time to be choosy about your friends."

"We aren't completely alone," Alric corrected. "Marquis Lanaklin joined us."

"A lot of good that does. If we get more help like that we'll go broke just feeding them. Our only chance is to contact Degan Gaunt and form an alliance. If Delgos joins with us, that may be enough to persuade Trent to side in our favor. If that happens, we could deal a mortal blow to this new Nyphron Empire."

"Do you think Gaunt will agree?"

"Don't know why not," Arista said. "It is to our mutual benefit. I'm certain I can talk him into it, and I must say I'm looking forward to the trip. A rolling ocean is a welcome change from that carriage. While I'm away have someone work on it, or better yet order a new one. And put extra padding-"

"You aren't going," Alric told her as he put his crown back on.

"What's that?"

"I'm sending Linroy to meet with Gaunt."

"But I'm the ambassador and a member of the royal family. He can't negotiate a treaty or an alliance with-"

"Of course he can. Linroy is an experienced negotiator and statesman."

"He's the royal financier. That doesn't qualify him as a statesman."

"He's handled dozens of trade agreements," Alric interjected.

"The man's a bookkeeper!" she shouted rising to her feet.

"It may come as a surprise to you, but other people are capable of doing things, too."

"But why?"

"Like you said, you're a member of the royal family." Alric looked away and his fingers reached up to stroke his beard. "Do you have any idea what kind of position it would put me in if you were captured? We're at war. I can't risk you being held for ransom."

She stared at him. "You're lying. This isn't about ransom. You think I can't do the job."

"Arista, it's my fault. I shouldn't have-"

"Shouldn't have what? Made your witch-sister ambassador?"

"Don't be that way."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, what way would you like me to be? How should I react to being told I'm worthless and an embarrassment and that I should go sit in my room and-"

"I didn't say any of that. Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"It's what you're thinking-it's what all of you think."

"Have you become clairvoyant now, too?"

"Do you deny it?"

"Damn it, Arista, you were gone six months!" He struck the arm of the throne with his fist. The dull thud sounded loudly off the walls like a bass drum. "Six months, and not a single alliance. You barely got a maybe. That's a pretty poor showing. This meeting with Gaunt is too important. It could be our last chance."

She stood up. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I apologize for being such an utter failure. May I please have your royal permission to be excused?"

"Arista, don't."

"Please, Your Majesty, my frail feminine constitution can't handle such a heated debate. I feel faint. Perhaps if I retire to my room I could brew a potion to make myself feel better. While I'm at it, perhaps I should enchant a broom to fly around the castle for fresh air."

She pivoted on her heel and marched out, slamming the great door behind her with a resounding boom!

She stood with her back against the door, waiting, wondering if Alric would chase after her.

Will he apologize and take back what he said and agree to let me go?

She listened for the sound of his heels on the parquet.

Silence.

She wished she did know magic-then no one could stop her from meeting with Gaunt. Alric was right, this was their last chance and she was not about to leave the fate of Melengar to Dillnard Linroy, statesman extraordinaire! Besides, she had failed and that made it her responsibility to correct.