The Crown of Embers(120)

Hector looks to me for instruction, and more than the arm holding me captive, more even than the dagger at my throat, the desperation in his face sends terror shooting through me. Never have I seen him so frightened and helpless.

If they defend me, we will all die. But if the assassin kills me without a fight, maybe he’ll let them live. “Do what he says,” I say calmly. “Lower your weapons.”

They do, reluctantly, plunking them onto the dining table.

Without turning to face my captor, I say, “Hello, Franco.”

“Well met, Your Majesty,” he says with equal calm. “You have given me an enjoyable and challenging chase. Thank you for that.”

“How did you find me?”

“We followed the old lady.” Ximena’s mouth drops open. “We knew you’d rendezvous eventually.”

“Are you going to kill me, then?” I ask, preparing to send my heel into his instep, the way Hector taught me.

“Possibly not.” He steps back and lets me go.

I turn to face him. Up close, I don’t know why no one saw him for an Invierno. He is too tall, too preternaturally beautiful, to be anything else. His slicked-back hair is a shade or two lighter at the roots, and his eyes are a startling gold—a rare color among Joyans.

But maybe that’s why we never met, why he conveniently absented himself when I summoned him. Because more than anyone, I was likely to recognize an Invierno among us.

“Then what do you want?” I ask, even as I pray silently, drawing power through the earth, into the Godstone. It comes slowly, a mere trickle, but it comes.

“Don’t you dare,” says Franco. “If you try to work the magic of your stone, I’ll kill every single person in this room.”

And just like that, the power dribbles away, leaving me empty and hollow.

“Better. Now, if you want your people to live, you must come with me.”

“Come where?”

“Invierne, of course. As a willing sacrifice. It is very important that you come willingly, in accordance with God’s will. Failing that, my secondary objective has always been to kill you, which I did attempt, but you have proved wily.”

I don’t understand what my willingness has to do with anything, though I can’t help but note the eerie similarity to Leaf’s words about the gatekeeper. A living sacrifice. I’ll have to think about it later.

“You’ve been pulling the strings the whole time, haven’t you?” I ask. “Invierne meant to weaken me with a very public martyr and set the stage for a civil war. You want us to tear ourselves apart so you don’t have to.”

His edged grin gives me shivers. “We did say we would come at you like a ghost in a dream.”

“Does Eduardo know you’re an Invierne spy? Does he know he’s being manipulated?”

He shrugs. “He knows. But his ambition allows it. I have promised to rid him of you, another weak ruler in a long line of them. The rank fool thinks he betrays you in service to his country. So, Your Majesty, will you come?”

Ximena rises to her feet. Swords ring her neck instantly, but she puts her hands out, palms up, to show that she means no harm. “I have a better idea,” she says.

“Ximena? What are you—”

“The queen still has supporters. If you take her now, Joya d’Arena will rise up against Invierne. So take him instead,” she says, pointing to Hector. “If you let everyone go and take him, she will follow. Willingly. She loves him.”

I stare at my nurse, shocked and sick. What is she doing? What is she thinking?

“Is it true, little queen?” Franco asks eagerly. “Do you love that man? Such a thing would be even more pleasing to God—for you to follow, intending to give yourself up for him. No one has greater love than he who gives his own life.”

I hate Franco for quoting that verse, the one I used to heal Hector. Swords ring Hector’s neck now. His eyes on mine are steady but dark with fear—for me, not himself. He nods once, almost imperceptibly. He wants me to say yes. He hopes they’ll take him away, leaving me alone and safe. Don’t ever give your life for mine, he once told me.

Without breaking his gaze, I whisper, “Yes. I love him. Enough to follow him anywhere.”

And then Hector realizes his mistake because he gasps like a dying man and closes his eyes against the pain of it.

I turn to Franco, and my voice is clear and cutting when I say, “Hector is a Quorum lord. Taking him hostage is an act of war.”

Franco grins. “Stupid queen. We never stopped being at war, your country and mine. Invierne merely retreated.” He gestures to the men surrounding Hector, and they grab his arms and haul him roughly away from the table. Hector does not resist.