The Shadow Throne

Gently, I smiled at her. “You are a princess of this land, and as such, it will be your responsibility to choose the next ruler of Carthya. You can name yourself and rule alone with my official blessing.”

“The people won’t accept that.”

“But Harlowe will, if it’s my command, and where he leads the regents will follow. Besides, my lady, the people love you.” I sat back in awe of her and then chuckled at my own faults by comparison. “I daresay they’ll be relieved once you’re in charge.”

She weighed that in silence and then asked, “What if I wish to marry?”

“I ask only that you choose a husband from Carthya.” My thumb brushed over hers. “Someone who is the proper match for you.”

“And if I don’t want the crown?” she asked.

“Then you give it to anyone worthy and walk away from the throne forever.”

It was as if I had lifted a weight off her shoulders. She straightened her back and nodded. A moment of silence lapsed between us, and if I were someone with any courage I’d have sealed the agreement with a kiss. But I didn’t, and I was certain she took note of it too.

We finally stood and I offered to escort her to her apartments. But Mott was waiting at the doorway, his face pinched and grim. His arms were folded and he somehow seemed wider than usual, making it clear I wouldn’t get past him. Tobias also lingered nearby, so I asked him to see the princess to her rooms.

Even before they left, I could tell Mott was ready to scold me in the severest tones. I dreaded it, feeling as if Master Graves, my father, and the chapel priests had all combined their energies to prove once and for all how wrong I always was. “We need to talk,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make this a fight.”

“I won’t, but you make everything a fight.”

Well, that seemed true enough. So I shrugged and let him follow me back into the throne room. When the doors were shut behind us, I turned and started to tell him of the agreement I had just made with Amarinda.

However, he was quick to cut me off. He unfolded his large hand to reveal a crumpled note tucked inside. I was relieved to recognize Roden’s stilted handwriting on an open corner of the paper. So at least he was alive, or had been when this note was written.

“When did you get that?” I asked.

“Not ten minutes ago. Roden’s messenger said he barely escaped Gelyn alive to deliver this.”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.” By Mott’s expression, I knew the news wasn’t good. “Roden’s men successfully snuck inside Gelyn, and engaged the Gelynian army at the garrison along our shared border. Then Roden and his men set up traps that stopped most of the first wave of Gelynian soldiers that tried to come through.” Mott’s frown deepened. “He sent this note in anticipation of a second wave of soldiers. The rest are on their way.”

That could be hundreds of the enemy, or even thousands. “Does he say how many men he still has with him?”

“Eighteen.”

Eighteen out of forty. My heart ached at the thought of so much loss. And even though the men who remained would be among the finest warriors Carthya had to offer, the odds against them were terrible. It was likely that by now, none of them were still alive.

Mott handed me the note. “He asks you to bring reinforcements to join him. He believes it’s the only way they’ll succeed.”

I scanned his note for myself. Due to his uneducated background, Roden’s spelling and handwriting were poor, but in this case I was grateful for the errors. It proved that this note had come directly from his hand. “The captain asks me to send reinforcements, not bring them. You’d rather I go into battle against thousands of Gelynians than to the camp where Imogen is being held?”

“No. I’d rather you hid yourself in a closet until this is over. But I know from experience that even with our best locks, we couldn’t keep you there.” There was some teasing in his voice, but after a moment’s hesitation, Mott became serious again. “They could only have one reason to take Imogen, because they knew you would come for her. Jaron, whatever they have planned, it will be awful. So if it must be one or the other, then, yes, I’d rather you go to Gelyn.”

Fortunately, my decision was already made, or else I’d have had to argue, just for the sake of pride. But I only said, “All right, Mott. You win this time, but don’t let it become a habit.” Then, with my heart pounding, I added, “Promise me that Imogen —”

“I can’t promise anything other than to do my best.” Nervously, he licked his lips. “And you promise me —”

“I can’t do that either.” I forced a grim smile to my face. “But one way or another, we will see this war to an end. We must.”

The following morning, a regiment of two hundred men left Drylliad for the northern border of Gelyn. I wished I could’ve sent more, but other men were needed in the south to meet the advancing armies of Mendenwal, and a third contingent was sent to oversee the mighty waters of Falstan Lake, while the rest remained here in defense of the capital. What strength Carthya had was already being divided, and our resources were taxed to their limits. Though I stood tall and proud as I watched them leave, in my heart, I still doubted that we had any chance of survival.

Once they had gone, I joined Tobias, Amarinda, and Fink in the courtyard. My plan was to travel with them to the border of Avenia, to ensure their safety at least that far. Then I would take my horse, Mystic, on to Gelyn from there and hope the devils gave them clearance until the princess was safe in her home country.

The escape carriage was being loaded with clothing, blankets, and food. Tobias cocked his head toward the crates and said, “At least we won’t be cold or hungry on this journey.”

A mischievous grin tugged at my mouth. “We won’t be cold, but I’d advise against eating the food. Today’s recipes included an extra ingredient of Ayagall.” His groans told me that Tobias knew the plant as well as I did. Ayagall was a weed that grew plentifully near the orphanage where I’d lived, and was the source of many a lively joke when orphanage life grew dull. Even small amounts guaranteed a full day’s vomiting. Suddenly, the mystery of why Mrs. Turbeldy hated me so much was solved.

Despite her attempts to remain serious, Amarinda giggled. “Avenia thinks they’re battling a king. I doubt they’re prepared to fight a boy who thinks childish pranks are practical strategies for war.”

“Aren’t they?” I said, giving a wink and a smile to Fink, who was already laughing.

Once the carriage was loaded, Amarinda, Fink, Tobias, and I crowded inside. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable trip, but if they were stopped at the border, this had to look like a transport wagon, unfit for passengers and certainly unfit for the future queen of the land. Amarinda and I sat beside each other on a small bench at the far end of the carriage, while Fink and Tobias took the floor across from us.

Fink immediately started chatting with Tobias, who told him to hush no less than twenty times before the gates of Drylliad were behind us. I wasn’t sure why he bothered. Keeping Fink from asking questions was like holding back the sea. He talked whenever he was nervous, or excited, or bored, or for that matter, awake. Eventually, Tobias gave up pretending to listen and just stared forward. His anxiety was evident in his every expression, every movement, and grew worse with each mile.