Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

Lorain nodded. “My father may want a claim to your throne, but I do not. I will never be denied access to the boy, though. And my children will be brought here and live in the palace with their full royal status.”

“Of course,” Araine agreed. “But their title will be honorary, with no Angierian lands or positions accorded to them beyond what they earn.”

“I will have my Mothers alter the contract accordingly,” Lorain said. “We’ll be ready to sign in the morning.”

“The sooner, the better,” Araine agreed. Lorain stood, squeezing Leesha’s shoulder as she left.

“Have you recovered, dear?” Araine asked, gesturing for Leesha to sit.

Leesha lowered herself to her seat. “Well enough, Your Grace.”

“Call me Araine in private,” the Duchess Mum said. “You’ve earned that, and more. I might have lost four sons that day, and not three.

“Pether will sign this in the morning, as well,” Araine continued, handing Leesha a royal decree. The papers made Leesha Countess of Hollow County and a member of the royal family, though she and Thamos had never married.

“It’s common sense,” Araine said as Leesha looked up from the parchment. “You’ve effectively held the role for months in any event, and I daresay your people will accept no one else. Gared’s a good boy, but better a baron than count, especially with that scandal-ridden new bride.”

“I expect he’ll be relieved to hear it,” Leesha said.

“You’ll return immediately,” Araine said. “And take Melny with you.”

“Eh?” Leesha asked.

“Everyone’s forgotten Melny for the moment, and I want to keep it that way,” Araine said. “Miln and Angiers must ally, and now. No one knows that girl’s carrying Rhinebeck’s baby, and if it gets out, the child will cause undue complications. The kind settled with spears.”

“Lorain would never kill an unborn child,” Leesha said.

“Never say never,” Araine said, “but I was thinking more about her father, or Easterly and Wardgood using it as a rallying point against Miln. Wouldn’t surprise me to find one of them kidnapped poor Sikvah as well.”

“That brings us to the matter of Rojer,” Leesha said. “He’s coming with me when I go, and the charges against him will be dropped.”

Araine raised an eyebrow at her tone, but she nodded. “Done.”

Leesha rose, returning to her rooms to begin preparations. They were ready to leave in two days, but by then, the Krasian army was at the walls, and the city in panic.

Rojer looked out from the tiny window of his cell, the tower affording him an all-too-clear view of the Krasian forces massing at the South Gate.

After months in this cursed cell, this was supposed to have been his release day. Instead, the whole city was on alert, and he’d been forgotten.

“Knew it was too good to be true,” he muttered. “Gonna die in this cell.”

“Nonsense,” Sikvah said from the shadows above. “I will protect you, husband. If the walls are breached, we will be long gone before they reach the cathedral.”

Rojer did not look at her. He seldom even tried now. Sikvah was seen when she wished it, and no other time. His eyes stared in mounting horror as column after column of warriors assembled, wheeling great rock slingers into position.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” Rojer asked.

“No, husband,” Sikvah said. “By Everam and my hope of Heaven, I did not. I was privy to many of the secrets of the Deliverer’s Palace before we were wed, but never did I hear of any plans to expand beyond the borders of Everam’s Bounty in the near future. Everam’s Bounty was a land of vast riches, and people to bring to Everam’s will. Wisdom dictated we stay there half a decade, at least.”

“And then resume conquest.” Rojer spat from the tower window.

“This is not news, husband,” Sikvah said. “My blessed uncle never hid his path from you. Sharak Sun must unite all peoples, for Sharak Ka to be won.”

“Demonshit,” Rojer said. “Why? Because some book says so?”

“The Evejah …” Sikvah began.

“Is a ripping book!” Rojer snapped. “I don’t know if there’s a Creator or not, but I know He didn’t come down from Heaven and write any books. Books are written by men, and men are weak, stupid, and corrupt.”

Sikvah did not respond immediately. He was challenging everything she believed, and he could sense her tension, her desire to argue, warring with her sacred vow to be a submissive wife.

“Regardless,” Sikvah said after a moment. “This must be Jayan’s doing. My cousin has the strongest blood claim to the Skull Throne, but no real glories to his name. No doubt he strives to prove himself to our people so they will accept him in my blessed uncle’s absence.”

“Your blessed uncle fell off a cliff months ago and hasn’t been heard from since,” Rojer said. “Do you still think he’s coming back?”

“There was no body,” Sikvah said, “and signs he was alive when they landed. I will not believe the Deliverer is dead. He will return when he is needed most. But what will his sons and Damaji wreak in his absence? Will our armies be stronger when Sharak Ka comes, or will my fool cousins spread them so thin they shatter?”

She dropped down silently beside him, looking out the window, careful even at this height not to be seen from without. “Everam’s blood. There are nearly fifteen thousand Sharum out there.”

“The fort’s home to sixty thousand, give or take,” Rojer said. “But I doubt there’s two thousand Wooden Soldiers left after Thamos went south.”

“Do you think it’s true, what they say?” Sikvah asked. “That he attacked my cousin’s forces on Waning? At night?”

Rojer shrugged. “My people don’t see the night, and Waning, like yours do, Sikvah. Twice now, Jasin tried to kill me in the night. And the duke and his brothers, when they turned on Thamos on the hunt.”

“Yes, but these were not men,” Sikvah said. “Goldentone, Rhinebeck, these were soulless khaffit. I saw Count Thamos fight. A fool, perhaps, but he had a Sharum’s heart, and the alagai quailed before him. I cannot imagine him acting so dishonorably.”

Rojer shrugged again. “Wasn’t there. Neither were you. But what does it matter, now that his head was sent to his mother in a jar?”

“No mother should witness such a thing,” Sikvah agreed. “My cousin has little high ground on which to stand.”

Columns of smoke rose to the east, where the Krasians had sacked the local hamlets. There were dozens of them within a day of the city walls.

“If they’ve come so far north,” Rojer asked, a lump forming in his throat, “does that mean the Hollow has fallen?”

Sikvah shook her head. “The Hollow is strong, and blessed by Everam. This many warriors might have conquered it, but it would have taken weeks, perhaps months. These men are fresh, with no wounded or damaged equipment.”

She looked to the east where the smoke rose. “They went east around the great wood, likely skirting the Hollow entirely.”

“There’s that, at least,” Rojer said. “Maybe Gared’s already on his way here with ten thousand Cutters.”

Please, Gar, he begged silently. I’m too young to die.

Duke Pether shifted nervously, lines of sweat streaking the powder on his face. No doubt the Shepherd was unaccustomed to standing before the altar instead of presiding over it. A third son given to the church, Pether had likely never expected to wear the wooden crown, much less get married with an invading army at the gates.