twinkle of smarts carefully hidden by a heavy exterior. .
“Viceroy, perhaps we can continue this conversation in private,” Rallie said.
Of course Rallie would know, Konowa realized. She had been Her Majesty’s Scribe for decades.
“There is no private anymore,” Pimmer said, looking around him. “The fate of our very existence balances on this fulcrum in time.”
“Told you,” Yimt said from somewhere in the crowd. “The full crumb.”
Pimmer rounded on Prince Tykkin. “This is about your destiny, your duty. If you do not take the throne, it won’t simply be the Empire that falls, but all living things in it. Is that the legacy you want?”
“And if we do not destroy the Shadow Monarch what then?” Konowa asked, unable to contain himself. “You told me yourself it was the right thing to do,” he said, knowing he was betraying the man’s trust and not caring.
“It was, but now it isn’t.”
The Prince raised his hand for silence. Konowa bit back his next retort and waited.
“Events continue to move faster than we anticipate. We have suffered the most unfortunate luck to lose the wrong monarch. Therefore, I have no choice but to set sail for Celwyn and to assume the crown.” He turned and stared at Konowa, forcing him to remain silent. It was as if the man had suddenly grown. He seemed bigger, stronger.
“We’ve had our differences, you and I. I doubt there’s any other officer in this army or any other who exhibits such constant and repeated insubordination. Your attitude toward authority is deplorable.”
If there was a compliment in the offing the Prince was taking a long road to get there. Konowa opened his mouth to speak, but he felt three pairs of eyes on him and shut it again. He chose to believe he did it through his own willpower, and not the combined force of the three women a few feet away.
“Furthermore, you are reckless and have a short temper. It’s quite astonishing you’ve only been court- martialed once.”
Konowa felt the first flicker of frost fire dance in his clenched fists, but with a restraint that was causing the blood to pound in his ears he remained silent.
“I could go on, but time is short, and I think I’ve made my point,” the Prince said. He pulled down on the hem of his coat and jutted out his chin. “It is therefore my great privilege and honor to hereby hand over command of the Iron Elves to you. Congratulations, Colonel Swift Dragon.”
Murmurs of pleasure broke out all over the deck. A nearby cannonade fired by another ship seemed perfectly timed to echo in martial salute. A few even shouted “Long live the King” threatening to turn a solemn moment into something else. The Prince held up his hands and things quieted down.
The Prince turned to take in the growing crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are witness to a truly rare occasion. Colonel Swift Dragon has been rendered all but speechless.”
Konowa found his voice. “I thank you for this honor, Your Highness, but it has little meaning if we are still going to Celwyn and not the Hyntaland.”
“Glad to see your rise in rank hasn’t changed you,” the Prince said, a slight mocking tone in his voice. “Of course, you are right.
Now Konowa dared hope. “I’m not?”
The Prince smiled. “My duty is clear, as Viceroy Alstonfar pointed out. I must return to the capital and assume the throne. The Empire must be defended. If Calahr falls, all falls. Your duty, and that of the Iron Elves, is equally clear. The Shadow Monarch must be destroyed. I place this vessel under your command. Make all haste to your homeland and use whatever means necessary to dethrone the Shadow Monarch.”
Konowa stood to full attention and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
The Prince looked at him, a bemused expression on his face. And then he did the most startling thing. He held out his hand.
Konowa looked down at it. “Sir? The oath, the frost fire.”
“King’s prerogative.”
Konowa smiled and grabbed the man’s hand. Frost fire crackled between their palms. The Prince winced, but squeezed tighter. He leaned forward and whispered in Konowa’s ear. “If we should never meet again, I still think you’re a scoundrel and a disgrace. . and I’m honored to have served with you. Thank you.”
“We will meet again,” Konowa said, squeezing just a bit harder. “And you’re arrogant and vain and it will be my great privilege to one day greet you as His Majesty, the King.”
They stepped back and released their grip. This time the surrounding soldiers and sailors did cheer.
“Very well, it is time we parted ways. I leave you to your task, may fortune favor you.”
“And you, sir,” Konowa said, saluting again.
The Prince returned his salute. He turned and addressed Viceroy Alstonfar.
“Unfortunately, it would appear the Hasshugeb Expanse is no longer part of the Calahrian Empire, which means your viceroyship is at an end.”
“That is a correct interpretation of the political situation,” Pimmer said. He stood calmly, one hand resting on the pommel of his saber, the other on the butt of a pistol stuck into his belt. Konowa smiled. In the short time he’d known him, Pimmer had gone from bureaucrat to warrior. Give the man a few months in the field with the right instruction and he’d be an excellent leader.
“As king, I will be choosing my advisors. I would like my first chosen counsel to be you.”
Pimmer nodded his head. “That is a wonderful offer, and some day I look forward to accepting it, but with the king’s permission, I would like to enlist in the Calahrian Army.”
The ship grew silent. The Prince leaned forward a little. “Pimmer, everyone knows of your bravery. You impressed a lot of people, myself included. You have nothing to prove. Come back with me, help me in Celwyn.”
“I will, Your Majesty, in time. Right now, however, the most pressing need lies to the north, and with your permission, I will accompany the Iron Elves.”
“Not as viceroy you can’t,” Konowa said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “I’m sorry, but we only have room for soldiers.” He looked at the Prince and winked.
“Quite,” the Prince said. “Very well. Viceroy Pimrald Alstonfar, I hereby strip you of your title and standing in the Calahrian Diplomatic Corps and induct you into the Calahrian Army with the rank of Major, second-in-command of the Iron Elves regiment.”
A week ago there would have been a riot. Now, there were cheers. Major Pimrald Alstonfar smiled and saluted, knocking his shako clean off his head.
“He’s all yours, Colonel,” the Prince said. He then turned and motioned to Rallie. “As you were Her Majesty’s Scribe your services now belong to me,” the Prince said.
Konowa expected some sort of comment from Rallie, but she simply bowed her head in acceptance.
“Which is why,” the Prince continued, “I am ordering you to accompany Colonel Swift Dragon and the Iron Elves to the Hyntaland. I’ll be as eager as the rest of your readers to hear how events unfold, and their forthcoming victory in the battle against darkness.”
This time the cheers were raucous. It never ceased to amaze Konowa how fatalistic and cheery a soldier could be at the same time. Still, he felt it, too. They’d all suffered and lost so much because of Her. Revenge, even if it appeared suicidal, appealed to them.
He risked a glance over at Visyna, hoping desperately not to see her frowning. Her smile put a grin on his face. Not giving a damn about decorum, he walked over to her and kissed her as sparks flew.
He pulled back after a moment, his lips and tongue tingling. Soldiers started crowding around and she and Rallie and his mother disappeared from view.
Konowa stood still for a moment, taking it all in.
