Queen Yavara Ch. 25

Adarian laughed bitterly. "The others were more qualified than me. I was sure the only reason I'd even been considered was to appease my father. When the king read the letter, he didn't have to ask me to kneel, for I dropped to my knees and wept as he laid the sword on my shoulders. It was the greatest honor of my life, as it was for every head-ranger before me." His lips curled into something like a snarl, "If only we'd known you were picking the weakest of us."

"When King Vintian Ternias first asked me to confirm the head-ranger, Alkandi and all her kin had been extinct for centuries. Your duties were to police the Great Forest, not to hunt dark-elves anymore. I chose who I thought would best govern." I touched his swollen jaw, "The seven before you were all very keen to detail how they'd suppress the tribes, neutralize threats, and ensure safe passage of caravans, but only you told me how you'd broker deals and form relations."

"Weakness." Adarian hissed.

"It's very easy to see mercy as weakness." I spoke the spell in my mind, and sent it surging into Adarian. He gasped, his body becoming rigid against the wall. "But it was your lack of mercy that put you here, Thomas Adarian. I don't blame you for Sherok, nor Elena, nor even Prestira. No, I blame you for April." I leaned in so that only he could hear me, "I blame you for her, because you loved her, and you couldn't see that your love was her doom. We truly hate in others what we hate the most in ourselves, so for this, I hate you Adarian, but not as much as you do." I released him. The healing spell had regrown his teeth, knit his split lip, and cured an infection that was beginning in his gums. I left him disheveled and bloody, but perfectly intact.

"Why?" Yavara asked.

"He's a very useful man." I said, "If you decide to throw him to the wolves, so be it, but a wise queen might put his skills to task."

"You think I'll help you?!" Adarian laughed behind me. Yavara looked at me like she agreed with him.

"It's your choice." I said to her, then clapped her shoulder, and made my way to the stairs.

"Wait." She said, turning toward me, "Mercy isn't a weakness, Prestira told me that. Did you tell that to her?"

"No, she taught it to me."

ELENA

We were in Leveria's preparation room, the mulling sound of the Noble Court filtering from the oak door I stared at. I'd faced down a pack of feral goblins with more poise than this. The stately dress Leveria had crammed me in was the antithesis of the utilitarian clothes I was used to. The coreset compressed my diaphragm to the point of asphyxiation, stabbed into my back, and pressed my tits together so tight I thought they'd burst, which seemed wholly unnecessary since the bodice covered every inch of my bosom. The skirt was structured so that it plumed from my waist like the wilting head off a mushroom, and long enough that it covered my feet, which were crammed into heels a size too small for me.

"Stop that!" Leveria hissed, slapping at my hand, "You'll mess up the lacing and look like a common whore!"

"I'd eat every ass in that room just to loosen up this torture device you've force me into." I hissed back, failing at finding a comfortable position within the garment.

"I know you're used to being dressed like a homeless person, but this is the Noble Court, and there's such a thing as etiquette." Leveria scolded, fussing with me.

"An ambassador from Alkandra wouldn't give a shit about etiquette. Give me one of your pencil skirts with the infinite neckline and let me be a comfortable slut."

"So that everyone can ogle your bulge? How much do you want to explain at once today?"

"I could've worn a gown."

"You really are hopeless, you know that? This is a gown, a bouffant gown, and this is what you wear to court. An evening gown, which is what you're thinking of, is what you wear when you're going to a ball." She pulled hard on the lacings, stealing my breath, "Now, it might make sense for an ambassador from Alkandra to look like a slut, but you're not just here to appease the Lowland diplomat, but to show the Noble Court that you're my agent and will do as you're told!"

"Oh, just let me have an inch of slack!"

"Relax your shoulders, arch your back, and tilt your pelvis forward. Legs together, Elena! There, better?"

"No!" I wheezed, "Holy shit, how can you wear this?!"

"With dignity! Come now, you were more composed when I was cutting pieces off you!"

"God, it's hot!" I gasped, fanning myself with a white-gloved hand, "I need a glass of water!"

"Don't mess up your hair!"

"I just need to wipe my forehead; I'm sweating like a pig." I stumbled on my heels, and barely caught myself on the wall.

"Are you having a panic attack?" Leveria's voice seemed to come from somewhere else.

"Don't let her see me like this." I muttered against the wall.

"Who? Your mother?"

I nodded.

Leveria's cool hands were on the back of neck, an oasis for my molten flesh. She laid something smooth against the nape, and I felt its weight hang from me. My mother's necklace. "I told you she gave it to me to give to you." She said softly, "Your mother adores you, Elena."

"You know it's more complicated than that." I laughed bitterly.

"It always is." Leveria's cheek pressed to mine, "Just remember, I can always kill her if you want."

I snorted, some of the tension easing from me. "You're such a good friend."

"Is that what we are?" Leveria was absolutely beaming when I looked at her, "I never had a friend before."

"Being a father-fucking psychopathic cunt didn't make you popular?" I took her chin in my hand, "Sure Leveria, we're friends. But the moment I get the chance, I'm going to shove a blade down your throat."

"You've been shoving your blade down my throat every-"

"Enough with the euphuisms." I sighed, letting my hand fall. I linked fingers with her, and squeezed tightly. "You'll protect me in there?" I whispered.

"I promised I would." Leveria whispered back, kissing my cheek. "Stick to the script, and you'll be fine. You just have to prove to Fran Wentz that you're Yavara's ambassador, and then stand there while I declare war on you. There will be some booing, maybe a little jeering, but everyone in there thinks you're on our side. It's all just theatre."

I took one breath, then another, and let them both out. "Alright, let's go."

ZANDER

My meeting with the Ten was terse and one-sided. I spent two hours making myself a portal from an old Alkandran ruin the Highlanders had repurposed as a marker stone, then I broke half of it off, and teleported to Glacier Lake. I sent ten ethereal owls out, and waited until noon for the chieftains to congregate at Gorlok's steading. Gorlok was obviously already there, but of the other ten, only Balktar, Kanglar, Draifak and Vaklori showed up. It would have to be enough. Before any of them could open their mouths, I told them that Brock had conquered the Maples, Yavara had captured Castle Thorum, and oh yeah, there was a massive army only eleven days away ready to massacre the lot of them. I dropped the other half of the stone on the table, and informed them that the election for Froktora would be that night at Castle Thorum. Then I left the slack-jawed chieftains without a word, tossed my staff onto the ground, and transformed into a great eagle. Picking my staff up with my talons, I launched into the air.

After flying for half an hour, I came upon an old citadel, the only discernable piece left of it being the gothic arch that once vaulted the atrium. I landed upon the apex stone of that arch, and transported once more. I was atop a hill. It was further south than Glacier Lake, as evidenced by the trees, but not much further south, for the trees were squat conifers barely taller than a child. I peered over them, and my vision was filled with motion. The Highland army was like a river of color, the golden helms reflecting the afternoon sun, the myriad banners forming a flowing tapestry over them. I had seen armies like it before, but not since the days of the old empire. It was vast, and blanketed hills and valleys, kicking up a cloud of dust that drifted in its wake. I dropped to the earth, and transformed once again. This time, I was a high-elf man of middle years, scarred and balding, the picture of a disgruntled career military man. I cast an illusion of uniform over me, turned my staff into a pike, and strode down the hillside.

In my experience with military men, the worst were low-level officers. Being the bridge between enlisted footmen and high-ranking noblemen meant everyone hated them, and they hated everyone. So it didn't surprise me that a red-faced captain came sprinting after me when I emerged from the brush.

"Oi, you having a wank in the shrubs? What is your outfit?" He demanded in a thick northern accent.

"Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company, first platoon." I said with the amount of contempt the officer was used to, then added, "Sir."

"Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company?" The man jabbed at my chest, "You're wearing a fucking Jonias uniform, you incompetent twat."

I gave the officer a hapless gesture, and he raised his hands like he'd lost all faith in elven kind.

"Oh, you fucking Jonias bastards can't get anything right. Your own lady mixes the whole fucking army up, so of course it's her own kinsmen who can't tell a shithole from a soup bowl." The officer reached into his pouch, and pulled out a scroll, "Seventh, fifth, third..." he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning, "now is that Xantian, or Huntiata, or Straltaira? Oh Good Mother, you figure it out!" He tossed me the scroll.

I looked over the scroll, which listed every outfit in the army organized by the new structure put into place by Lady Catherine Jonias. Within one scan of the page I could tell that Jonias had intentionally organized the army to suit her house agenda, then realized how obvious it was, then poorly attempted to hide it. The result was a clusterfuck of redundancy and nonsensical regimentation that only a diplomat trying to play general could manage. It would've been better if she'd shuffled everything randomly.

"I... uh..." I said dumbly.

"You can't get it, of course." The captain sighed, "All right, you can tag along with my company until muster, then you just head back to your sector."

"My... sector...?"

The captain stared at me blankly, then shook his head, and walked away. I followed him into the river of men, passing the banners of the noble houses until I rested beneath one that belonged to Shordian house. There, the captain stepped to his bannerman, and gestured over his shoulder to me. The young man strode over, a private's symbol on his shoulder.

"Heard you got lost in the woods!" He said cheerily, and stepped in time with me, "You Jonias fellas would lose your balls if they weren't attached."

"Look, I just-"

"Oh, you know I'm just giving you shit." He grinned toothily, "The name's Freytian by the way."

"Donalsius." I said, looking around, "You guys seem to be the only ones who know where you're supposed to be."

"Well no shit, we're Shordian's boys." Freytian said it like it was a universal truth, "Best outfit in the army until your lady decided to water it down."

"The good lady Jonias was just trying to redistribute the stupid." Said a man beside us, "Every regiment needs someone to catch arrows."

"Donalsius, this is Deklian; Deklian, Donalsius." Freytian made the introductions, "Donalsius here was having a wank in the forest and lost track of his unit, so now he's shadowing us to see what a real regiment looks like."

"Jonias boy, eh?" Deklian eyed my uniform, "At least you're not a Droughtius grunt. Those fuckers are dumb and proud of it; you fuckers are just dumb."

"Oh, those Droughtius fellas are the worst!" Freytian spat, "All of 'em walking around like they're royalty because the big wig's in charge of this shit show."

"Fucking thing to be proud of." Deklian grunted, "Jonias might've fucked it all up, but it was Droughtius who caved. The queen doesn't actually care about how the job's done, just that's it done, get me? Droughtius could'a just given the whole thing the lip service it deserved, but the patsy went and fucking did it!"

"He's thinking about that cushy seat on the Noble Court." Freytian nodded.

"Fucking bureaucrats." Deklian gave me a furtive look, "If it was Shordian in charge of things, he would'a taken that order and wiped his ass with it. Then when our beautiful queen asked about it, he'd'a dropped the heads of the Ten and her whore-sister on the palace steps, and see if she gave a shit then!"

"Her husband is the general's nephew." I said.

"But that's what did him in." Freytian sighed, "She can't appear to be playing favorites, so she could never give old man Shordian the job."

"Fair woman, she is, in every connotation of the word." Deklian looked slyly at me, "You ever seen her in person, Donalsius?"

"No."

"I have, and let me tell you-"

"Oh, here we go again!"

"It's a true story!" Deklian barked at his friend, then turned to me, "So I was there for the hanging of that whore-bitch Trenaria Tiadoa, right? Front-row, right in front of the scaffolding. And Queen Tiadoa -she was still Princes Tiadoa then, but you get it- Queen Tiadoa was standing there like an angel, and the sun was shining through her hair, and I swear I could see a halo around her. And she's real dignified you get, even though her whore-mother's getting pelted with shit as she makes it through the crowd. So she's standing there, Queen Tiadoa is, and as the magistrate is reading the sentence for her whore-mother, she glances down, and I shit you not, she looks right at me!"

"Lies, all lies!" Freytian interjected, "I was there! The queen looked at her mother the whole time, and it was with the sad expression, like she was disappointed for the whole country."

"Nah mate, she looked right at me!" Deklian insisted, "She looked right at me, and smiled! And, -shut your fucking mouth Freytian- and, right after her whore-mother hits the end of her rope, -don't fucking say it, Freytian!- right after Trenaria hits the end of her rope and snaps her neck, Queen Tiadoa fucking, -and I shit you not-, Queen Tiadoa looks right at me, and fucking winks! And, -I'm telling the fucking story!- I feel something hit my foot. And you know what it is?" Deklian quickly rummaged through his pouch, and produced a metal cone with a bejeweled end, "A fucking butt plug! I shit you not, it hit my foot right when no one was looking, but Queen Tiadoa was looking, and she was looking right at me." Deklian raised his brows, "So, what'd'ya got to say about that, Donalsius?"

"Bullshit is what he's got to say, but he won't because we're helping him!" Freytian snapped.

"Oh, fuck off Freytian, you virgin sack of-"

"Hey," I cleared my throat, "what sector am I?"

"What's that?" Deklian asked, "What sector are you? Mate, have you even eaten in the last two days?"

"Don't you have your camp map?" Freytian eyed me.

"What?"

"Good Mother." Deklian shook his head, reaching into his satchel.

"Wait." Freytian held up his hand, "What unit are you from?"

"Seventh division, fifth regiment, third company, first platoon."

Freytian narrowed his eyes at me. "I've got a friend in Seven-Five-Three. That's one of Feractian's old companies."

"That's right," Deklian eased his hand away from the satchel, "Ryana's in that troop. Third platoon isn't it?" His hand hovered over his pummel, "What were you doing in the bushes, Donalsius?"

"Spying for the Dark Queen." I said simply. I reached into Deklian's satchel, and rummaged through it until I found a rolled-up parchment tucked away in one of the pockets. The frozen high-elf stared at me from unseeing eyes, his expression fixed into one of suspicion. Freytian was looking over his shoulder, apparently ready to call to his captain. The army marched around the three of us, Shordian's well-trained troops not stopping even for their bannerman.

"Ah, I see." I muttered, looking over the map. The Highland army was essentially a mobile city that established itself every night when it made camp. Though the reshuffled regiments would become an amorphous flow of men while on the move, they were strictly sorted when the marching ceased. The camp was set up the same every night, each unit denoted a sector, each sector established by which units were adjacent to it. It made it so that the camp was the same regardless of terrain or position, which made communication and defense incredibly efficient. It also meant that the high command and general's quarters were placed in the exact same spot every night.

"Thank you, Corporal Deklian for your service to Alkandra." I said, tucking the parchment away, "You may have just singlehandedly turned the tide of this war." I hit them with an amnesia spell, then dropped the paralysis incantation. As their eyes refocused, I gave them a smart salute and strolled away.

LEVERIA

When Elena walked into the room, it went silent. She paused at the threshold, staring out at the rows of nobles, the garish colors of courtly clothing like a flowerbed of insidious orchids. I could see the weight of their eyes on her by the rigidity of her shoulders, and I could see the way every motion she displayed was calculated and unsure. Still, she strode on without missing a step, giving my husband a nod of a bow, then walking purposefully to the dais that had been set up for her. Ambassador Wentz stood at his dais, as slack-jawed as most of the nobles around him. I glanced to where Lady Lydia Straltaira sat behind her platoon of lesser nobles. She watched her daughter with an implacable stare, her jaw fixed, her blue eyes hard and cold. It was a mask. Even from across the room, I could see the way her crow's-feet deepened, how the lines on her forehead bunched before the embattled knit of her brow. Joy or grief? I could not say. I would've thought the latter before, but the old war-hawk had surprised me with her sentimentality.

"Where have you been keeping her?" Eric whispered in my ear, his eyes fixed on Elena.

"In the guest chambers, Darling; where else?"

"What an exotic creature she is. Savage, yes, but... I was always told dark-elves were hideous demonesses from the pits of hell, and this Elena... well, perhaps she is a demoness, but from the realm of temptation no doubt."

"She is only half dark, as you can see." I said, "The high-blood in her veins lends her grace and beauty."

"I heard Yavara isn't exactly a deformed monstrosity."

"Yes, and you have the privilege of being well informed." I smiled patronizingly at Eric, though I doubted he realized it, "The common man gets his information from the crown, and so we will not speak of the Dark Queen's beauty. It's best if he thinks he's paying taxes to slay wart-swathed hags."

"And her?" He nodded toward Elena.

"The common man will never see Elena Straltaira."

Eric looked around. "But the noble man will feast his eyes upon her. Can you not see how they hunger? Her novelty and vulnerability are like sugar for the villainous palate. You brought a mouse into the den of snakes, Dearest; an innocent curiosity like her will not be left untainted."

"Untainted? Innocent?" I laughed, "Darling, Elena was an undercover agent in the Dark Queen's court; how do you think she proved her trust?" I turned my gaze back to her, "She is very far from innocent, and very far from helpless."

Elena stood behind her dais, and looked to me. I gave her an imperceptible smile, then sat on my throne. Every nobleman and woman sat in unison, each of them now trying to catch my eyes, but I only cared for the eyes of Lord Ternias. Lord Ternias, who had watched me when everyone else was watching Elena, and who now watched Elena when everyone else was watching me. I had meticulously controlled the flow of information about Elena, for I knew the moment I told Lydia Straltaira the lie about her daughter, that she would use it to clear her family's name of the rumors circulating Elena's fate. But apparently, Lord Ternias had heard a different story.