Laira sipped on the fragrant tea as the sun continued its march toward the horizon. The tide rolled against the cliffs beneath the castle in a gentle rhythm.

  Stormhaven had stopped replying to her. And now a bloody border county. Oberstein was still missing.

  Even during important meetings, her mind wondered what had gotten into Reshma to join Jack in his fervor to introduce another reason for the nobles to hate him.

  She wondered for the tenth time whether she had been right to risk so much for the conviction burning in one man’s eyes.

  The answer still came back as yes. She exhaled.

  He better be right about all this, or all of Nanon is doomed.

  A knock. Then the doors to the balcony opened.

  Duke Schwan walked in, slow and deliberate.

  He looked to be in good health, bedecked in an expensive embroidered doublet in the silver and blue of his house.

  “Uncle. What a pleasure to see you,” she said, meeting his eyes, but not getting up.

  He bowed low to her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I have not been myself the last few days.”

  Her eyebrows rose in concern. “What happened?”

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Just a bout of sickness. I am fine now.”

  She exhaled. “That is good to hear.”

  She gestured towards the chair opposite her, which he took. “Did you hear about the Sindhu Prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Kingdom of Sindhu sent no official intimation of his visit. That is almost an insult.”

  “Or confidence. I might know why he is coming.”

  Laira’s expression froze.

  “Your father went to Sindhu to secure an alliance. The surest form would have been to arrange a marriage between you and the second prince, Tejas Sindhu.”

  She released the breath she had been holding, then narrowed her eyes. “Uncle, I’m already betrothed.”

  “To a Count.”

  He did not shout.

  He never had to.

  The look in his eyes was enough to cower most people.

  If Laira had been younger and less experienced, she would have averted her gaze as well. But dealing with the perverse nobles and grief had hardened her.

  She matched his gaze. “He is also the leader of a realm.”

  She put a hand up before a reply could leave his throat. “Honestly, I don’t care about that either. I care about his mind and what he has produced.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What could be worth forsaking an alliance with a neighbor twice our size?”

  “A weapon that can change the very nature of warfare.”

  “I heard about his crossbows. Ingenious, but they are not going to stop the wave of bodies Zoran will push toward us. Sindhu can.”

  “No. We both know they cannot. The refugees’ accounts paint a clear picture. The Zoranians sacrificed thousands upon thousands of lives to gain the tiniest of advantage in warfare, and Sindhu is mostly flat lands. As for their ‘massive’ population, the mongoose might look big to a rat, but it is still tiny compared to an elephant. They will be overrun.”

  “So what? We hide in the hills when they arrive, like the Nogalese?”

  “No. We will defend our land, because we will have more than just repeating crossbows. Jack showed me a weapon that could pierce plate armor from a distance, and gave me a hint that they could be made bigger. Much bigger.”

  He finally reeled, unable to hide his shock.

  She made sure to hide her satisfaction.

  “Did he show you the bigger version?” he asked after a while.

  “No. He had brought only the small one.”

  “How many of the big ones can he produce?”

  “I don’t know, but he said Chadom can produce them in large numbers.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Uncle, I could see it in his eyes. The way he talked about them. There was an uncanny surety to him. And he is not a great diplomat.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Laira, you are putting your trust in an unproven man with unproven weapons.”

  “I am putting my trust in what I saw. If you didn’t trust my judgment, why did you back my succession?”

  “Because I thought you were far more sensible than your brother.”

  He didn’t say out loud, but maybe I was wrong, but he might as well have, with the look he was giving her.

  “Laira, no matter how fantastic, a weapon alone will not defeat the behemoth of Zoran.”

  “Funny.” Laira showed her teeth, without smiling. “Jack said the same to me. Hence the reformation of the Royal army.”

  Her uncle exhaled.

  “Ah yes, the reform. How many ties have you destroyed with houses that have stood by yours for generations? They have been hounding me for days, begging me to change your mind.”

  Laira almost sneered, but stopped herself in time. “I am sorry about your plight, uncle, but I will not let the termites destroy my military from within.”

  “A wise ruler must balance the cost of maintaining alliances and security.”

  “Why don’t you go tell that to General Hrodric, who lost a son due to the greed of a scion of one of these ‘loyal’ houses? I will not let Nanon’s future rest on the shoulders of honor-less thieves.”

  Her uncle, no, Duke Schwan let silence reign, as if that would unnerve her. Then he stood up, looking down at her. “I fear those houses are doing more than begging me for help. You might find coin and levies slow to arrive. Border lords might ignore royal decrees.”

  There it was.

  “I can see you are not in the mood to heed my council,” he said, voice cold. “We shall talk later.”

  As the doors closed behind him, she focused on the tea.

  It had gone cold, and tasted like ash.

  The next morning, she had to spend time to look her best. The lady-in-waiting who helped her was good at her task, but she would give anything to have Reshma back.

  Once finished she walked up to one of the balconies that looked to the east, providing an expansive view of the entire capital. She looked down at the castle’s courtyards, which were buzzing with activity.

  The Prince was due to arrive that day.

  But before meeting him, she had another task to take care of.

  She went to the throne room, empty, save for a few trusted souls.

  General Hrodric stood there, posture straight and glorious mustache waxed. Besides him, two men stood straight. The older one was middle aged, with broad shoulders and bags under his eyes. The younger man had alert eyes and cropped curly hair.

  The room echoed with the rumbling of the doors closing. Only the three men and the knights of the Royal Guard remained.

  All stood rigid facing her, as she sat on the throne. “I heard you two captured the merchants colluding with corrupt officers, even when they burned down your headquarters.”

  The two men bowed, not meeting her eyes.

  “Not only that, you barged into the residence of the son of a Count, and bound him as if he were some common thug. I received a strongly worded letter from Count Grauberg, who is the man’s distant relative.”

  The men remained expressionless, but their nervousness was palpable.

  A smile broke across Laira’s face. “Nanon is fortunate to have courageous sons like you.”

  Their shoulders almost sagged in relief. Almost.

  “This should have been a public ceremony, but the nobles are already agitated. Provoking them further would not be wise.”

  She got up from the throne and unsheathed the sword that Jack had given her. Not as ostentatious as the one that had been made for her upon her coronation, but still a beautiful piece, and sharp.

  “Approach,” she ordered.

  The older man came forward, eyes downcast, then knelt at the base of the dais.

  Laira took a step down and placed the sword on the man’s left shoulder, then the right one.

  “Rise, Sir Brenn.”

  The man rose, taller than her even now. As his eyes lifted to look at hers, the conviction burning in those eyes almost made her shiver. She smiled faintly.

  The man retreated and the younger one approached.

  She repeated the ceremony.

  “Rise, Sir Korrin.”

  Again, the resolute eyes.

  Laira’s doubts vanished.

  She needed men such as them, not sycophants and thieves pretending to be loyal. Sheathing the sword, she joined in the clapping.

  Once the doors had been opened again, she approached the General.

  “How is the reorganization going?”

  “Well, Your Majesty.”

  “The new units?” she asked, voice low.

  “Still in the works. We’re scouring through the slums to find every able-bodied man who is willing. The new NCOs are whipping them into shape, but it will take time. Their rations must increase further. The treasury…”

  “Will survive.”

  “I doubt the nobles are unaware.”

  “I’ve arranged for a meeting with them. It will coincide with the parade. How are the preparations?”

  “On time.”

  Nodding, she walked out, only to find Duke Schwan outside the doors.

  “My lord?”

  He bowed low. “May I talk to you privately, Your Majesty?”

  She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. He was her biggest supporter. She couldn’t afford to alienate him.

  She gestured to a balcony. The Royal guards placed themselves at the door immediately.

  Once inside, he turned to face her, concern evident on his face. “Laira. Are you truly going to reject the Prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know your father hadn’t promised the Maharajah your hand in marriage to him?”

  “He would have sent a pigeon for my confirmation. My father would not marry me off like a mare.”

  “If you reject him publicly-”

  “I’m not that stupid,” she interjected.

  He looked at her for some time, then bowed in acceptance.

  They went down to the main courtyard, greeting courtiers on the way.

  Knights stood arrayed neatly in perfect symmetry. Every cuirass shined to a mirror polish and faded banners replaced with new ones.

  The portcullis opened with a groan.

  Two riders entered first, armored in lacquered full plate with gold inlay, carrying the banner of Sindhu; a yellow sun rising over green fields. Behind them came a column of thirty mounted retainers.

  Then came the carriage.

  Its green body had been polished to a liquid sheen, almost hidden beneath intricate golden filigree. Emeralds and other gems embedded within shone as they caught the morning light.

  Even the horses’ tack was embossed in gold.

  The carriage stopped, and its door swung open.

  A handsome young man came out, around the same age as Laira. He was dressed not in armor, but layered silks of deep emerald and muted gold. A curved dagger rested at his waist.

  He had the same warm complexion as Reshma. The same silky black hair. The same flirty eyes.

  It made Laira’s blood boil, but she kept her expression neutral.

  She reminded herself he must have been only ten when Reshma and her mother were forced to run from her own home.

  The man approached and bowed with a flourish. Not as deeply as a vassal, not shallow enough to insult.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, voice smooth. “I trust my arrival has not inconvenienced you.”

  Laira smiled.

  “Nanon is always prepared to received honored guests. Though we appreciate the courtesy of advanced notice.”

  The Prince’s lips curved faintly. “Forgive us. Matters of urgency seldom wait upon pigeons.”

  No apology.

  “What urgency brings Sindhu’s second son to my gates without announcement?”

  His eyes met hers fully.

  “My father sends assurances of continued friendship. And seeks confirmation that the understanding reached with your late father still stands.”

  Laira’s throat went dry.

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