The Crown of Embers(121)

“You have two months,” Franco says. “I expect to see you in our capital by then. Come with no thought to returning, for this is pleasing to God. You may bring a very small escort, but no soldiers. Otherwise, he dies.”

“If you kill him, I’ll destroy you.” Actually, I think I’ll destroy him anyway. Yes, I most definitely will.

But Franco ignores me. “Let’s go,” he says to his men. To Tristán he says, “If your soldiers follow, he dies.”

They are halfway out the door when I cry out, “Wait!”

Franco whirls.

My anger, my resolve . . . it has melted into anguish, and all I can do is beg. “Let me say good-bye? Please?”

Franco looks back and forth between us, amused. He shrugs permission, and the soldiers loosen their grip on Hector.

I fly into his arms. He holds me close, stroking my hair, pressing his lips to my temples, murmuring words I can’t take in.

“I’ll come for you,” I whisper.

“Elisa, no.” He pushes me away, holds me at arm’s length. “Let me do my job this one last time. Take my advice.”

“I need you to survive this. Stay alive for me, Hector. Please? And be ready.”

And then they’re dragging him away, and it feels like I’ve been gut punched, for I can’t force my lungs to draw breath. I fall to my knees, clutching my stomach. God, how did everything turn out so wrong?

A hand squeezes my shoulder. It snakes around my neck, pulls me close. “I’m so sorry, my sky,” says Ximena. She draws me against her breast, the way she did when I was a little girl. I clutch at her bodice, taking in her familiar scent as she strokes my hair.

“I hope you find comfort in the fact that he sacrificed himself for you,” she murmurs. “As I always knew he would. He loved you very much.”

I lurch away from her and stare, puzzled, my skin crawling.

“Oh, my sky, the pain will fade. I promise. Just like it did with that boy from the desert. I know it’s hard to understand now, but your destiny is so glorious, Elisa. You are a bearer and a sovereign. Twice chosen by God. And someday, all this will pale in your memory.” She holds her arms out for another embrace.

I rise to my feet, wiping at tears I don’t remember shedding. I look down at my nurse. My guardian. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother. It seems as though she kneels at my feet.

“Ximena,” I say with imperturbable calm. “You have killed for me. You have kept things from me. You have sacrificed one of my dearest friends. You did all this without consideration for my will.”

Her black eyes are hot with conviction. “I have only ever done what is best. You’re just seventeen! You need—”

“I am a grown woman and a queen. And you are dismissed.”

She gapes at me.

“Go home, Ximena. To Orovalle. I’m sure Papá and Alodia can find a post for you.”

“No! I’m your guardian! Elisa, my sky, I love—”

“Tristán, would you please have my former nurse escorted to the nearest passenger ship?”

“At once, Your Majesty,” he says coolly, and he gestures toward a handful of men.

Ximena rises, smooths her skirt, then folds her hands together in perfect composure. As they lead her away, she glances over her shoulder at me and says, “I’ll always be your guardian. No matter what. It is God’s will.”

I turn my back on her, sickened and sad, but well and truly ready to be the queen my people need.

“Tristán. Are you still willing to take a position as Quorum lord?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I fish one of the Godstones from my pocket. It glitters more deeply than any jewel, in spite of its lifelessness. “Take it. It should fetch a high enough price for a whole garrison. I’ll validate it as an authentic Godstone from my personal collection, with a document bearing my royal seal.”

His fingers pause in the air above my hand for a moment before he takes it. “Thank you.”

I gesture for Fernando to approach, and then I pull out another Godstone and lay it in his palm. “Take this to Captain Lucio. Recruit more guards to defend the palace, if it is not overrun already. If it is, you must go into hiding and rebuild the Guard in secret.” I close his fingers around the stone. “Fernando, make me an army of my very own.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He stares at his fisted hand.

“Belén!”

He approaches, his face dark.

“You are now my personal guard. You will see to my safety above all else.”

He nods acceptance, then peers down into my eyes. “You’re planning something dangerous and brilliant again.”