Quintana of Charyn

‘That one.’

The Queen looked annoyed. ‘Lucian!’ she called out. ‘What’s happening over there?’

Lucian turned back to Phaedra and the others. ‘The Priestking is coming too. To conduct the ceremony,’ he said.

Lucian waved the royal party over and suddenly Jorja was taking deep breaths from the shock of seeing the Queen of Lumatere walking towards her cave.

‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Lucian said gruffly when his cousin reached them. ‘Nor does Phaedra. Is that clear, everyone?’

‘You can’t speak for her,’ Constance said.

‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Phaedra said, and she caught Lucian’s grateful smile.

‘No, none at all,’ the Queen of Lumatere joined in, accepting Jorja’s invitation to sit down. ‘Although we’ll have to wait for everyone on the mountain to come down. Balconio, too. They’ve all promised to travel up … and down for the wedding. As has August and Abian and their lot and Trevanion and the rest of the Guard. Very small. Compared to ours.’

The Queen turned to her consort.

‘I think the whole kingdom came to that one, didn’t they, my love?’

‘No, some of the Flatland lords boycotted it because they thought you were marrying beneath you,’ Finnikin of Lumatere advised her.

Jorja was looking flustered and Phaedra knew she had little to serve as refreshments.

‘The groom’s family is responsible for the feast,’ Isaboe of Lumatere said, ‘and they’ll be arriving with the food soon.’

Phaedra knew the tradition was the exact opposite in Lumatere, but she didn’t dare challenge the Queen.

‘While we wait for the arrivals, we thought we could take time to speak of matters,’ Finnikin said to Harker, and Phaedra watched everyone’s stillness as the valley dwellers gathered close.

‘To be honest, it’ll be a long time indeed before Charynites live in Lumatere. The wounds cut very deep. But we …’ Finnikin looked at the Queen. ‘My queen and I thought we’d speak to you about ideas for this valley. Perhaps it’s time to build and make plans … for permanency.’

There was silence from the valley dwellers.

‘It needs a leader, Harker,’ Isaboe said. ‘And you seem to be that man.’

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what Harker and Jorja and the rest of the valley dwellers had journeyed here for, all that time ago, but they were interested in what the Queen and her consort had to say.

‘The way we see it, this valley will have the best that Lumatere and Charyn have to offer,’ the Queen said. ‘It could become a thriving place of progress. A place where both kingdoms meet.’

Jorja suddenly gasped and jumped to her feet. ‘How could we have forgotten? It’s a good thing you’ve visited, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘The Charyn palace has sent a letter. Go get it, Florenza. And then we’ll find you a pretty dress, Phaedra, for the ceremony.’

‘Well, if I may,’ the Queen of Lumatere said, ‘I brought a dress that belonged to my sister, Evestalina. Lucian was her favourite, do you remember that, cousin? She’d let you get away with anything. Even more than our brother Balthazar.’

Phaedra saw the emotion on Lucian’s face. The Queen rarely spoke of the past and everyone present knew the importance of her speaking her family’s names on the Charynite side of the stream.

‘Well, she would have wanted your wife to have it.’ The Queen looked at Phaedra. ‘It shames me that it has taken me so long to acknowledge you, Phaedra of Alonso.’

Phaedra shook her head. ‘It shames me to have spoken to you the way I did in the caves after you put your life at risk for Quintana of Charyn.’

‘Enough said.’ The Queen’s voice was brisk, but filled with emotion.

Florenza returned with the letter, handing it to the Queen. The Princess Jasmina cried to have it.

‘Jasmina likes the pretty seals on the letters,’ the Queen explained, ‘especially those that are red.’ There was much oohing and aahing from the valley dwellers, who were besotted by the little princess.

The Princess Jasmina took a liking to Florenza, gripping her hand tightly, trying to drag her away.

‘Be careful,’ the Queen said firmly. ‘She’ll try to control you.’

‘Has she a gift?’ Florenza asked.

‘Yes,’ the Queen said, her tone dry. ‘The gift for …’

‘… stubbornness,’ Finnikin said.

More people arrived from over the mountain, and on a cold night under a full moon, Phaedra found herself wed to Lucian for the second time. He wore a royal-blue doublet and his trousers tucked into his buskins and Phaedra’s dress was fitted to the waist in soft pink. She wore flowers from Yata’s garden in her hair. He was very solemn; she wasn’t. Phaedra couldn’t stop smiling.

While the celebrations continued well into the night, they sat by the stream alone.

‘I think this party will last for days,’ he said. ‘And we’ll never be alone together.’

‘Soon enough,’ she said. ‘I don’t think tonight is just about us.’

He pressed a kiss to her lips.

‘We’ll have to visit my father, Lucian. There’s too much anger between us all and I can’t begin my life with you this way.’

He nodded. ‘Then we’ll visit your father soon,’ he promised.

Suddenly Finnikin was at Lucian’s shoulder.

‘Lucian, we have a problem,’ the Queen’s Consort said, holding the letter from the Charynite palace in his hand. ‘A big one.’

‘Can it not wait until the morning?’ Lucian asked.

‘Apparently some of our mail has gone astray.’

Lucian laughed, his eyes never leaving Phaedra’s.

‘Finnikin, unless it affects the future of this kingdom, I’m going to have to say no to whatever you’re about to ask me to do,’ her husband said firmly.

Finnikin placed an arm around them both.

‘Cousins, I’m afraid it affects the future of both our kingdoms.’

Chapter 49

On the day the Provincari of Charyn were to choose Quintana’s consort, Froi sat on the roof of the Crow’s Inn with Mort and Florik, the lads staring down at every potential suitor who arrived in the Citavita. Each candidate brought with them a large enough entourage to impress, and Froi’s heart sank with every step they took closer to Quintana and his son.

‘The Osterians,’ Florik said sombrely, indicating the procession crossing the bridge with great ceremony. Froi had come to realise that the more banners a kingdom had, the more useless they were.

‘They say he could be the one,’ Froi said. ‘The Osterian.’

‘Why?’ Mort asked.

‘Apparently no mad blood or inbreeding for the past hundred years.’ Froi watched the Osterian prince as he stepped onto the rock of the Citavita.

Mort stood and walked to the edge of the roof. ‘Easy if a bolt flew out of my longbow right between Osterian’s legs. Accidents happen, lads.’

‘You’d start a war with the only kingdom who hasn’t gone to war for its whole existence,’ Florik said. ‘Not your best idea, Mort.’

Mort looked back at Froi and managed a grin. ‘Gods are smiling, Froi. Think I see our Grij.’

It was both Grij and Satch who arrived, and Froi had never been so happy for their company.

‘Why did you stay, Froi?’ Grij begged to know as they made their way up to the castle, arms around each