Richelle Mead - Iron Crowned

“Later,” I told him, brushing a kiss against his lips.

He regarded me suspiciously. “Later means a lot of things with you. An hour. A day.”

I smiled and kissed him again. “Not more than a day.” I reconsidered. “Maybe two.” I laughed at the face this earned me. “I’ll see what I can do. Now get some clothes on before the women around here are driven into a frenzy.”

He gave me a mournful look. “I’m afraid that’ll happen with or without clothes, my dear.”

When we finally managed to part, I headed off toward Ranelle’s room, my post-sex good humor fading. A little air magic left me with only semi-wet hair by the time I reached her. Once admitted, I found her writing a letter at her room’s desk. Seeing me, she leapt up and curtsied.

“Your Majesty.”

I motioned her down and took a nearby chair. “No need. I just wanted to have a quick chat before I returned to the human world.” Her face twitched a little at this, but ambassador training quickly moved her past how strange she probably found that. The ease with which I jumped worlds wasn’t normal for gentry. “I’m sorry for the grisly display this morning. And that I haven’t been around much during your visit.”

“You’re at war, Your Majesty. These things happen. Besides, King Dorian has been quite hospitable in your absence.”

I hid a smile. Ranelle was hardly in a frenzy, but it was clear Dorian had charmed her, as he did so many women. “I’m glad. Were you writing your king?”

She nodded. “I wanted to send him my report right away, although I’ll be leaving later today.”

Magic filled the Otherworld and the gentry, and there were those among them with the power to expedite messages. A magical e-mail, of sorts. It allowed gossip to spread fast and meant her letter would get back to her homeland before she did. I eyed it on the desk.

“What will you tell him?”

She hesitated. “May I be blunt, Your Majesty?”

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “I’m human. Er, half human.”

“I empathize with you. I understand your grievance and know King Damos will too.” She was carefully skirting the explicit details of Leith raping me. “But tragic as your situation is … well, it is your situation. I don’t believe it’s one we should risk the lives of our people for—begging your pardon, Your Majesty.” Delivering bad news obviously made her uneasy. My father, honorifically referred to as Storm King, had been known for his power and cruelty. I wasn’t as ruthless, but I’d had my share of frightening shows of power as well.

“No offense taken,” I assured her. “But … if I may also be blunt, your king is in a precarious situation. He’s growing old. His power will eventually fade. Your kingdom will be open for others to move in on.”

Ranelle went perfectly still. The lands of the Otherworld bound themselves to those with enough power to claim them. “Are you threatening us, Your Majesty?” she asked quietly.

“No. I have no interest in another kingdom—especially one so far away.” Distance was relative in the Otherworld, but the Linden Land did take a bit longer to get to compared to some of the kingdoms nearer to me, like the Rowan Land and Dorian’s Oak Land.

“Perhaps not,” she said uncertainly. “But it’s no secret King Dorian has wanted to expand his territory. That’s why he took you as a consort, right?”

Now I stiffened. “No. That’s not it at all. Neither of us have interest in your land. But your neighbors—or people within the land itself—probably do. From what I’ve heard, Damos would like his daughter to inherit.”

Ranelle nodded slowly. Inheritance was by power here, not by blood—but most monarchs still longed for family succession, if they were lucky enough to have children at all. I gave Ranelle a knowing smile.

“Her control of the land depends on her own power, of course. But if Damos helped us now, we could certainly help later against any … usurpers hoping to claim the Linden Land.”

Assassination, outright war. The methods were less important than my meaning. Ranelle stayed silent, no doubt turning this over in her mind. Was a promise like that worth committing their armies to? Unclear. But it was certainly worth bringing to her king.

“And,” I added casually, shifting us from that dangerous topic, “I’d be happy to negotiate very favorable trade agreements with your king.”

By which I meant my staff would negotiate it. I hated economics and the politics of trade. But, my kingdom had literally and figuratively become a hot commodity. My shaping it in Arizona’s image had created harsh conditions—but also brought along tons of copper deposits. Copper was the chief metal in a world that couldn’t work with iron.

Ranelle nodded again. “I understand. I’ll bring this to his attention.”

“Good.” I rose from my chair. “I’m sorry I have to go now, but definitely let anyone here know if you need anything else. And send my greetings to Damos.”

Ranelle told me she would, and I left her, feeling rather pleased with myself. I disliked these sort of diplomatic talks almost as much as economic ones, mostly because I didn’t think I was very adept. But that one had gone well, and even if the Linden Land didn’t join us, I felt certain Dorian had been right: they wouldn’t fight against us either.

I was walking toward the castle’s exit, intending to go to the nearest gate back to the human world, when I passed a certain hallway. I hesitated, staring down it as I waged a mental war. Then, grimacing, I altered my destination and turned the corner. The room I sought was easy to find because two guards stood outside of it. Both were Dorian’s soldiers, chosen because if anyone was going to father the heir to Storm King’s legacy, they wanted it to be their own lord. And everyone knew I was the mother he wanted, not the room’s occupant.

One of the guards knocked and then opened the door slightly. “The queen is here.”

I didn’t need permission to enter any room in my own castle but still waited for a response. “Come in.”

I entered and found Jasmine sitting cross-legged on her bed, attempting some kind of embroidery. Seeing me, she irritably tossed it aside. “This is the stupidest thing ever. I wish the shining ones had more fun things to do. I wish I could go horseback riding.”

That last part was spoken with a knowing tone, and I ignored it. Jasmine was under house arrest, and I wasn’t about to allow an activity that might let her slip her guards. I picked up the green velvet she’d been working on and studied her stitches.

“Goldfish?” I asked.

“Daffodils!” she exclaimed.

I hastily set it down. Really, considering the loose iron chains she wore on her wrists to stunt magic use, it was impressive that she could sew at all.

“I’m going back to Tucson,” I said. “I wanted to check on you.”

She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Despite her young age, Jasmine had wanted—and still did want, I suspected—to be the mother of Storm King’s heir. The prophecy hadn’t been specific. It simply said his daughter’s first son would be the conqueror. That made it a race between the two of us—except I wasn’t playing. Her forced stay here ensured she wasn’t either. She’d hated me for this initially but had grown more civil after the war started. She considered Leith’s actions an insult to our family. It was bizarre logic, but seeing as it had stopped her temper tantrums, I welcomed it.

“Do you … need anything?” I asked. A stupid question to ask someone who wanted freedom.

She pointed to the iPod lying beside her. “It needs charging again.” It always needed charging. Normal battery life aside, the Otherworld interfered with electronics. “Books or magazines or something. I’d kill for a TV.”