“Uncle,” she said.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ryken demanded. He looked her up and down with disdain.
His eyes told a story that Leola had not wanted to believe was true, and yet somehow, in her heart, she knew that it was, all along. Her uncle did not love her; he had taken her in less out of duty and more because he needed an heir and a bargaining chip. That was lost to him the night she saved his life.
He was a weak man, and everything that Sedrak had said.
“Leave us,” she said, moved her head to look at all present, including Egan.
Ryken’s men were taken aback: Leola had never spoken up until the fated night she had been stripped bare and given herself, as far as they knew, as a whore, in exchange for her uncle’s life. A silence filled the room; the men looked to Ryken.
“My men do not obey a woman,” Ryken spat. “And we shall have our revenge upon—”
“You shall do no such thing,” Leola said, surprised by the power in her own voice. She did not feel it, not truly, but she sounded as if she did. She closed her eyes briefly, and thought of what she wanted. Then she opened them. “Tell your men to leave us, Uncle. You will regret it if I speak in their presence.”
“You will regret it if you speak at all,” Ryken said.
Leola tipped her head to the side. “Will I, Uncle? Or will you? Sedrak’s army is but half a days’ ride from here. They shall attack at dawn if no messenger arrives with the message that they must stand down. A message, Uncle, that only I can give them.”
Ryken narrowed his eyes.
“Give me an audience, Uncle. You shall regret it if you do not.”
Ryken stared at her, anger brimming from his eyes.
“Go,” he said at last.
“My lord—”
Ryken waved a hand, and then pounded the table. “Do as I order!”
The men left the room. Ryken stared at Leola as they left. Egan bowed to her as he retreated. “Say the word, my queen, and I shall enter and slaughter the Southern pig.”
Ryken’s eyes went wide, but he maintained his composure. The heavy door shut behind them.
“Leola,” he said, collapsing in his chair. “You play a dangerous game—”
“Be quiet, Uncle. I have no time for games. I come here with an offer to save your kingdom and our good name. You will listen to it, and if you are wise, you will do as I say.”
Ryken stared at her in disbelief. “What has become of you?” he said at last.
Leola stood up to her full height, and though doubt still coursed in her veins, she willed it away. Her voice was strong when she spoke. “I have become a queen.”
Chapter 17
Datharia stood, hands clasped, in front of the door after it was closed. Her expression was one of shock. She looked back at the door, as if to assure herself that it was indeed closed, and she had no means of escape. Then, awkwardly, she genuflected in the Southern style reserved for queens, which Leola had not seen except as a child, playing games.
Leola laughed, and Datharia looked horrified.
“Datharia!” Leola exclaimed. “What has gotten into you?”
Datharia clasped her hands together again and pressed her lips tightly closed. “My… uh, lady…”
Leola smiled. “I am Leola, Datharia,” she said.
Datharia managed a weak smile. “You are not the same Leola that left here,” she ventured. “You are… so very different.”
Leola tilted her chin with her hands on her hips. “Datharia,” she began, but as she began to speak, she realized that what her former servant said was true: she was not the Leola who had left this kingdom a plaything of a Northern warrior. She had changed.
