Our eyes meet from across the distance, and his narrow as they watch me in a distinctly predatory manner.
I do not like that I look away first or that I feel suddenly both hot and cold all at once. I see my future in those twinkling lights as surely as if I’ve read it in the stars.
I have too many duties to speak with him now. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, but I know the truth: I must set my husband to rest before I meet the next man I’ll marry. I owe him that much respect, at least.
Chapter Three
The morning and afternoon pass in a blur of arrivals: relief, hope—for other people—and then the hour of solemn burials at sea for those dead we’ve collected, including Lieve. I know there will be many days like this to come for the Crocus Isles. But the rest will be without me.
By now, the council is all here, the island is flooded with people, the weeping is shot all through with joyful reunions and glad surprises. Under the bright sun and over the azure waves—mocking things when they were so harsh and cruel yesterday—the rescue fleet from Andalappo arrives. They carry supplies for my weary citizens: clean water, fresh food, canvas and rope, promises and well wishes.
The last ship to throw anchor and send in boats is theMerrymaker, which holds Delarte. My cousin is twenty-six summers and favored in looks, but soft from drink and goodfood, and while he makes his obeisance to me, it’s hesitant because we both know it’s ephemeral and by tomorrow I’ll owehimthe bow.
“You’re all here,” I say, looking up at my counselors and Delarte hovering a little away and speaking in hasty whispers. “Which should be more than enough for you to conduct a wedding and wish your monarch well on her new life.”
“You don’t have to do this, cousin,” Delarte says.
It’s performative, but that’s fine because everyone knows it’s his piece in this little drama. He’s delivered it well. It even sounds heartfelt, and maybe it is, but it doesn’t matter because it’s a throwaway line. It’s the ones that come after that matter.
“We do,” I say calmly, gravely.
There’s doubt in Delarte’s eye. I’m sure there’s doubt in mine. But I received my boon, and now I will pay the price.
Turbote is grim. “I heard the voice of the gods. This is the payment they take for their mercy. Our queen is right to offer herself as the price.”
“You should have managed it, Turbote,” one of my counselors says in a tetchy tone. “It’s a simple thing to order a man to stay in his boat. If it had been a member of our nobility, there’d be no talk about a change of rule. We could have said she was staying with her people and that the noble was of her station. Things would go on as they always have. Instead, you’ve let it all fall apart!”
Turbote wrings his hands.
“You don’t have to do this, Your Serene Majesty,” anothercounselor says. I will not recite my counselors’ names. That they had nothing more valuable than empty objections tells all that is needed to know about them.
“If I do not fulfill my vow, I will have broken trust with the gods,” I tell them quietly. “And if I break trust with them, then they will break trust with me. Do you already forget how many of our own we have lost? How severe the storm was? How very narrow our escape became?”
They’re silent.
“Still…” Delarte lets the word hang in the air. “To step away from the Crown…”
“Is the only option left,” I tell him, and this time I put steel in my voice. “A commoner stepped onto the docks. A commoner’s wife I will be. That means I will no longer be queen. It is the price the gods demand and I will pay it.”
“They ask for too much,” Delarte mutters. As if me giving up my crown and marrying a stranger are the true tragedies here. As if it is not Lieve and the others being sent back into the sea.
It is agreed that the wedding will take place the next morning. Morning is the time of weddings and the tide pool will be warm and ready for the ceremony. For one last night, I will be queen. Delarte is happy, for he looks benevolent as a result of this decision, and the council feels they have done all they can, which sets their hearts at peace.
“I’ll stay here,” I say, looking down the pier to where a pair of guards has been set by the council to watch the fisherman I’m to wed tomorrow. He sits, leaning against the bitts,huddled over himself as if he is still ill or injured. I wonder if he’ll be a problem. “If it’s good enough for him, then it’s good enough for me. I’ll be his wife in the morning.”
Turbote scoffs. “We set the guard so he wouldn’t slip away.”
“You didn’t set a guard on me.”
Turbote looks side to side as if he’s uncomfortable, and then to my utter surprise he steps forward and wraps me in an embrace. I’m so stunned that I freeze, arms straight and stiff.
“What is this?”
“Coralys.” His voice breaks. “Like a daughter you’ve been to me. Willful and brave. Fair and just. No one would think you would run from your duty. Not even now.”
And I know I should feel something. Surprise would be appropriate. Affection would be permissible. But I see an old man touched by the voice of the gods who thinks now that his queen is the center of some great epic tale. I disentangle myself from his arms and say kindly, “You’ve been a good counselor, Turbote. Do not ruin it by softening now.”
He laughs, dashing tears from his eyes. “You’ve saved us all. Who would think the gods themselves would barter with you? You’re honored, Your Serene Majesty.”
