Caris let go of Blaine’s hands. “Thank you. We’re just about to have the midday meal. I hope you two will join us?”
Blaine nodded. “Of course.”
It was nice, for once, to share a meal with friends without wondering when the next attack would come. If the laughter was muted and the smiles hard to hold, well, no one ever said living after war was easy.
Two
CARIS
Caris watched as the Urovan ambassador bowed his way out of the throne room, a headache blooming at her temples. She wished she could blame the weight of the crown she wore, but she’d woken up with the pain.
“It will be a very long time before anyone trusts Urova again, even with the peace treaty in place,” General Clarence Votil said once the doors were shut.
“The new Isar has formally apologized for his country’s involvement in the Infernal War.”
“Apologies are meaningless in the face of their crimes. Isar Dávgon should have validated the information his ambassador and military officers were giving him.”
“They were allrionetkas, and he was killed by one when Eimarille ordered them all to assassinate their targets.”
Clarence shrugged expansively. “Every other country initiated physical checks forrionetkas. My understanding is Urova never did. The new Isar apologizes now because Maricol is united against Urova, and the wardens refused to patrol their poison fields until they surrendered. The alliance his predecessor had formed with Eimarille is meaningless these days, and he knows it.”
Caris agreed with that, but she also knew alienating an entire country they shared a border with was not the best way to keep Ashion safe. “They’ve been sanctioned, the same way Solaria and Daijal have been.”
The tithes those countries owed as payment for sanctions would go far to fill the warden ranks again, but it would be years before any were ready for the poison fields. The tithes Daijal sent would be the last that country ever paid under the Poison Accords, as it would cease to be a country and folded back into Ashion in the near future.
She resisted the urge to pick at the gold leaf that covered the intricately carved armrests of her throne. It wasn’t the one that had burned with starfire, merely an exact replica that Eimarille had ordered be created. Caris wondered if they had the budget to replace it. Perhaps next year. Enough aurons were being channeled into her formal coronation next month, even with her putting her foot down about the costs. She’d wanted a simple ceremony, but Meleri was turning it into a grand occasion to enforce the truth of Caris’ claim to the throne.
“Is that the last submission for the court today?” she asked.
“Yes, my queen,” Lore said from where she sat beside the throne dais in her wheelchair, a diary spread open on her lap. “You do have a meeting in parliament this afternoon with the Council of Reconstruction.”
She needed to remember to take something for her headache before that meeting, or time with the council would make it worse. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me.”
She stood from the throne and left, keeping her head steady beneath the crown. Weeks since the peace treaty was signed, and she still hadn’t become used to it—the crown, her rank, this road. She bit the inside of her cheek, blinking back a sudden onset of tears. Grief came and went, the process nowhere near linear.
The Royal Guard followed her into the private wing of the palace, to the suites that were home now, even if they held none of the warmth and memories of the Dhemlan estate back in Cosian. She bypassed her own rooms in favor of the nursery, the design of the space something she hadn’t allowed anyone to change. Eimarille had decorated it for Lisandro’s comfort, and Caris would not take that from him.
The Royal Guard stayed outside while Caris entered the nursery in time to see Lisandro throw himself onto the floor, pounding his fists against it as he shrieked. “No! I don’t want to do lessons! I want my mama!”
She flinched but smoothed away the guilt before nodding her dismissal of the nursemaid and governess. Both women curtsied to her before exiting the room. Caris approached Lisandro and sank to her knees beside him. She gently placed her hand on his back, a touch he allowed.
“I’m sorry I’m not your mother, but I’m here now,” Caris said.
“Don’t want you,” Lisandro hiccupped.
Caris smiled sadly down at her nephew, whom she would raise as a son, and rubbed his back. “I know. I wish I could give you what you want. For now, would you like a hug?”
Lisandro turned his face to the side, cheeks blotchy and wet from crying. He sniffled loudly, staring with his blue eyes so unlike Eimarille’s. It made it easier to look at him and see less of her, despite the features and hair she knew came from Eimarille. Caris didn’t let herself look away or think about how her sister had looked when she’d destroyed Caris’ whole world.
“Okay,” he finally said after a long moment.
Caris opened her arms to him and let Lisandro crawl into her lap. She held the boy close, the awkwardness of their first hug having faded over the weeks since she’d taken him into her care. He blamed her for his mother not being there for him anymore, unaware and too young to understand that Caris was the reason Eimarille was dead.
I don’t know how to tell you what she did and what I had to do. I don’t know if you will ever forgive me.
The thought was a running circle of anxiety she hadn’t yet figured out the answer to. What she knew for certain was that she couldn’t lie to him, not how her own parents and Meleri had about her past. But the truth hurt, it always would, and she wanted to spare him that pain for as long as she could until he was old enough to hopefully understand.
“How about a treat, hm? And then maybe a walk in the garden?” Caris asked.
