The Spirit War(43)

The queen glared at him. “I don’t care for your quick tongue, Mr. Banage. Get to the point.”

Eli’s smile faltered just a hair. “My point, majesty, is that we’ve been traveling for a week solid to come into your presence, and we’re tired. Surely you would not begrudge your son a night to think things over before he’s forced into the marriage bed?” He turned his smile to the princess, who still had her sword pressed into Josef’s back. “Lovely as this young lady is, it’s a big change for our Josef, and he takes to change about as well as a rock takes to floating. I’m sure that in the morning, once he’s had time to think about what he owes his family, he’ll be much more tractable.”

The queen tilted her head, considering. “The young Banage makes a good point,” she said. “Adela, release him.”

The sword vanished from Josef’s back, and the princess stepped aside to stand next to the queen once again. The other soldiers stood down as well, and Eli breathed a sigh of relief.

Josef lowered his arms and turned around, glaring daggers at his mother. The queen met him in kind, glaring so hard Eli was afraid the air between them would start to boil.

“Your friend has bought you a night of reprieve,” she said at last. “You will stay in the palace tonight. The guards will take you to your rooms, but before that, I want you to look at me.”

Josef’s jaw clenched, but the queen cut him off before he could get a word out.

“No,” she said quietly. “Do not speak. Look.”

And with that, the queen tossed aside her blanket with a bony hand. Lenette and Adela both moved to help her, but the queen pushed them away. Slowly, painfully, Theresa pulled herself to her feet, standing by her own power before the fire.

It was a sad sight. The silk nightgown hung from the queen’s bony shoulders. Her arms were so thin, Eli could have wrapped his hand all the way around her bicep. If her back were straight, she might have been as tall as Josef, but the queen was bent with age, her spine curved in an unnatural arc that forced her to lean forward. Even so, she straightened as well as she could before holding out her arms.

“Look at me, Prince Thereson,” she said, her voice as hard as the stone around them. “Look at what is left of Osera’s queen. The Empress’s hammer falls on our shores, and this weak, dying body is all that stands to face her. You’ve been stubborn as a pig all your life, but if I ever did my duty as your mother, as your queen—if I ever instilled even a stirring of love for you homeland in that bitter, guarded heart of yours, then, just this once, listen to my command. Do your duty. Be Osera’s prince, if only to pass on the blood of our ancestors, and I will never bother you again.”

She stood a moment longer, and then fell back onto her couch. Lenette was at her side immediately, fussing and pressing the queen’s blanket back across her legs. The queen paid the lady no mind. Her eyes never left Josef’s, daring him to defy her again. Josef didn’t say a word. When the guards moved to lead them away, Josef let them, but he never stopped watching his mother until the guards closed her doors behind them.

In Eli’s experience, “room” was a royal euphemism for prison cell, and his suspicions proved correct. The guards led them up a flight of stairs to a nondescript hall lined with heavy wooden doors, not barred but not exactly inviting either. They stopped at two doors right next to each other. Josef went through the first, Eli the second, stumbling in as the guards locked the iron bolt from the outside with a solid click.

Eli sighed at the barred door and then took a moment to consider his situation. He’d been in nicer cells, but not many. There was a feather bed, a porcelain washstand, an ornate wooden table with books, cards, and a lamp turned low. The wooden floor was carpeted, and the bars on the narrow window were tastefully obscured behind thick curtains. It was all very well done and, for a lesser man, very secure. Eli, however, was the greatest thief in the world. Five minutes after the guards left, he was hanging off the palace’s outer wall, banging on Josef’s shuttered window.

The swordsman opened the shutters on the third knock, and Eli wiggled through the bars to land in a heap on Josef’s rug.

“Well,” he said, brushing himself off. “That was exciting. Ready to go?”

Josef sat down on his bed and didn’t answer. Eli stood up, casing the room as he did. It was identical to his own, but Josef had pushed the writing table into the corner and was using the chair to prop up his weaponry with the Heart leaning against the wall. Eli grimaced, glancing from swords to swordsman. Josef bladeless was always a bad sign. Nico was also still conspicuously absent, despite the dozens of shadows available. Very bad indeed. He would have to tread lightly.