The Crown of Embers(28)

I let myself cling to him, inhaling the dusty cook-fire scent of his woolen robe. I have to squeeze my eyes tight and swallow hard. “It’s good to see you too,” I manage.

He murmurs, “I have been praying for you every day.”

I step back and hold him at arm’s length. “And I you! How is Cosmé?”

“Struggling with limited funds to establish a stable government and build a garrison on the Invierne border. Growling at anyone who gets in her way. Putting nobles in their places.”

“So, the usual.”

“She sends her love. Actually, she said ‘regards,’ which amounts to the same thing.”

I smile. There was a time when Cosmé held me in very low regard indeed.

Alentín’s expression turns serious. “Elisa, there is something else. Something you should know.”

“Oh?”

He turns toward the bathing area and hollers, “Come on out now.”

“What?” I say. “Who are you—”

A young man steps from behind the curtain, and my throat squeezes. He is impossibly tall and reed thin, with a sharp jaw and hooked nose that make him austerely handsome. He wears a black leather patch over one eye.

It is Belén.

The betrayer. The boy who sold me to the Invierne army. He nearly ruined everything we had fought for, in his mistaken belief that he was doing God’s will.

Softly he says, “Hello, Elisa.”

I’m not sure what to say. It aches a little to see him, because before he betrayed me, he was my friend. And once he realized his mistake, he risked his own life to warn me of the animagi’s plans.

But I can’t force warmth into my voice when I say, “Why are you here, Belén?”

He opens his mouth but changes his mind about whatever he was going to say. Instead he hangs his head.

Alentín reaches out and gives Belén’s shoulder a squeeze. “This boy is quite reformed. But he remains unpopular in Basajuan, as you can imagine. The court demands his execution, but Cosmé can’t bear to see him killed. She thought to make use of his scouting ability, sending him on forays into enemy territory. Alas, his reporting visits to the city have become increasingly challenging. There was a scuffle in the stables—”

“But why send him here? Why to me?”

“Because I asked her to,” Belén says. He dares to hold my gaze. I catch myself looking back and forth between his eye and his patch before focusing determinedly on the bridge of his nose. “The Scriptura Sancta says that making amends is a holy and cleansing fire unto the soul. And that’s what I want to do: to make amends, to pledge my life to your service.”

I stare at him.

He whispers, “Please, Elisa.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He hides his disappointment quickly. “Thank you.”

I have a sudden urge to strike out at something, or maybe someone. Cosmé should not have sent Belén to me without regard for my wishes. Alentín should have known better than to support the plan. And yet I am forced to accept Belén’s presence here, since he travels in a delegation.

I have trouble enough holding my own at court. How much worse is it to be manipulated by my allies and friends? To have them foist off their own problems on me? I glare coldly as I address them both. “From this point forward, you shall address us as Your Majesty.”

They bow. “Of course, Your Majesty,” the traitor says.

To Alentín I say, “Are you here in an official ambassadorial role?” Though I know the answer; it’s the only way to ensure Belén’s safety.

“I am,” he says, and his bearing is suddenly stiff. “Queen Cosmé wishes you to know of an incident that occurred in her public marketplace and would like your view on it. In short, an animagus appeared, demanded that you give yourself over to Invierne as a willing sacrifice, and then burned himself alive.”

I gape at him. “It was the same here!”

He nods gravely. “I was in your city not two minutes before I learned of the event.”

But I hardly hear him for the pounding in my ears. Two similar occurrences in succession speak of planning, of deadly seriousness. What is so important as to be worth two martyrs? What could they possibly want with me?

You will know the gate of your enemy.

Frowning, I say, “Belén?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Delegation or no, if I sense you are out to harm me or any of my people, I will have you imprisoned and tried for treason. If Hector does not kill you first.”

If he has a response, I do not know or care, for I spin on my heel and head toward the door. My guards fall in around me.