Rae Carson - The Crown of Embers

“We have more Chatos than you have condes,” he says.

I don’t want to call him that. Not ever. “And your name?”

“My name, in God’s language, means ‘He Who Wafts Gently with the Wind Becomes as Mighty as the Thunderstorm.’”

One of the guards snorts.

He shrugs. “It’s a common name in Invierne. But the people of my village call me Storm when they are being familiar.”

“Ah, yes. Please explain why you live in a cavern beneath the Wallows.”

“I first came to serve as ambassador to Joya d’Arena. I was a member of King Alejandro’s court for several years. As the war began, I found it necessary to go into hiding.”

The first part is easy enough to prove. “Hector, do you recognize this man?”

Hector is studying him, eyes narrowed. “No. Well, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“It could be him. There are similarities. The man I remember had darker hair.”

“I see.” I purse my lips, thinking hard. I can’t read the Invierno’s face, much less separate truth from falsehood. “You call yourself my loyal subject. That sounds more like defection than hiding.”

“You are correct, Your Majesty. I was not hiding from the people of Joya, but from my own.”

“Why?”

His face is void of feeling as he says, “I had failed, you see. After years of campaigning for port rights, I had nothing to show for my efforts. My life was forfeit, and my choice was to either go home in disgrace and face execution, or find a new home here.”

“A harsh sentence.”

“My kind embrace honorable death. I am wretched in my unusual desire to live beyond the shame of my failure.”

I shudder, remembering the zeal with which the animagus atop the amphitheater burned himself. And before that, how dozens of Inviernos submitted themselves to the animagi’s knives, the way their blood poured into the sand and fueled the fire magic that nearly burned our city to the ground. Did they all believe they were embracing honorable death?

Hector asks, “Why didn’t you seek asylum? The king would have granted it.”

“Your king could not have protected me. I had to disappear completely.” Storm smiles for the first time—a slow, edged grin that sends shivers down my back. “Surely you realize? Your city is crawling with Invierne spies.”

The guards exchange a startled glance.

I breathe deeply through my nose to keep steady. Though my pulse races, I wave a hand nonchalantly and say, “Everyone spies on everyone else. My own father, King Hitzedar of Orovalle, has several spies in my court.”

Storm says, “Your Majesty, there are hundreds. Living right here in the city.”

“Inviernos like you? Or are Joya’s own citizens turning against her?”

“Both.”

Hector says, “We would recognize Inviernos among us.”

He just shrugs and looks off in the distance as if bored.

I lean forward. “Would we, Storm? Would we recognize them?”

His expression turns smug. “All of you Joyans and Orovalleños look exactly alike, with your dirty skin and dark hair and wood-rot eyes. You are like black rats crawling across the sand. But we Inviernos are a colorful people, and as numerous as the stars in the sky. It is rare to find some among us who resemble you enough to pass, but found them we have. Enough to make spies.”

“You claim to be my loyal subject, yet you speak as though you hold my people in contempt.” I should be angrier, but I find myself fascinated with his complete disregard for propriety.

“You are a contemptible people. I am loyal out of necessity, not love.”

Strange that he does not make even the barest attempt at flattery. “Hard to believe you were unable to make diplomatic headway in my husband’s court, charming as you are.”

He nods knowingly. “This is the sarcasm your people are so fond of. When you say one thing but mean another. Inviernos value honesty too much for it, in accordance with God’s will.”

I don’t have the time or energy for a doctrinal debate, so I let that go. “The animagus who burned himself alive . . . surely you heard about it?”

He nods. “Everyone within two weeks’ journey has heard by now.”

“Did you know him? Did you know what would happen?”

“No, and no. I was not surprised, though. The animagi are fond of such demonstrations.”

“Are you the person who tried to kill me?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “No.”

“If your life is in such great danger, why answer my summons?”

His lips twist into that cruel smile. “I came to warn you, my queen. It occurred to me that a warning would be taken more seriously if it came from me rather than from an ignorant, impoverished denizen of the Wallows.”

He’s probably right about that. “And what is your warning?”

“You are in grave peril, Your Majesty. I have seen the signs, and I know Invierne will make another play. Soon. But this time, there will be no army to defend against. This time, they will come at you like spirits in the night, and you won’t recognize the danger until it’s too late.”

The animagus uttered similar words. I swallow the panic that rises in my throat. “Why? Why warn me?”

“I like my life. My secret village turns a nice profit on river scavenge. The people I lead are stupid and filthy, but they treat me with respect, even worship. All my needs are tended to. I would like things to stay exactly the way they are, and I know the city of Brisadulce has its best chance of remaining stable if you are in power and well aware of the Invierne threat.”

Hector leans forward, nostrils flared, face hard. I have never seen him so angry. “The Inviernos will find that Elisa is very difficult to kill,” he says, making the dagger dance in the air by some gymnastic of wrist and fingers.

Storm laughs, and the sound is as brittle as breaking glass. “Did I say kill? I don’t believe I did. Invierne wants her very much alive. Though I assure you that if one of Invierne’s innumerable spies gets hold of her, she will wish herself dead.”

It’s possible that I hate this man after all. “This audience is over,” I snap. “Take him to the prison tower.”

My guards pin his arms and turn him around.

“Arresting me will mean my death, Your Majesty,” he calls over his shoulder. “And once Invierne finds me and kills me, you’ll learn nothing more. I know you’re curious. About us. About what we want with that thing in your belly.”

“Wait!” I say, and the guards halt. “And if I let you return to your village?”

“Visit any time and ask all the questions you want. As I said, I am your loyal subject. You have nothing to fear from me.”

I pretend to consider for a long moment. “You may go free. But Storm, in accordance with God’s will, I must be honest and tell you that I hope you will give me an excuse to kill you.”

Something flits across his face. I hope it’s fear. He bows. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty. Remember to watch yourself.” The guards step aside. He flips the cowl over his head and sweeps from the room.

I whisper to the guards, “Follow him.”

They nod, wait a few beats, and then one slips out the door after him.

“Well,” says Hector, sheathing his daggers. “I believe that really was the former ambassador, different hair color notwithstanding. I remember him being deeply unpleasant.”

“Arrogant superiority must be a cultural obsession. The animagi I encountered were much the same.”

He crosses his arms and leans a hip against the desk. “You could simply make it known that he’s here. If what he said is true, his own people will take care of him.”

Seeing Hector in such a relaxed pose helps me force the tension from my own limbs. I take a cleansing breath and say, “I’m glad you were here, Hector. I admit that was terrifying.”