“I’ve got a dragon I’ll use against him if he’s hurting my relatives,” Syla muttered, keeping her voice too low for the driver to hear.
Or so she thought. But maybe part of his gift helped his hearing because he gave them a long look back.
“I thought I recognized you, Your Majesty,” he said.
Syla bit her lip. So much for the hood hiding her identity.
“Are you here to take the throne back?” The driver sounded hopeful, not like a threat she had to worry about. “And keep Fograth from rounding up more of our kind?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Starting at Tabuvar’s?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll swing by there. It’s not like these potatoes can start their journey to the other islands while dragons are attacking freight ships anyway.”
“I’m going to take care of them too.” Syla hoped it was the truth.
“I heard about the big marble bed that can shoot them out of the sky. Hope to see that for myself one day. Did you bring that weapon with you?” His tone was hopeful again, and he looked back, as if she might have the massive weapons platform in her pocket.
“It’s nearby.”
“Good. It’s… an uneasy time. We need someone who can… We need you.”
Syla swallowed, daunted but also relieved that some people were hoping for her to return and take over.
Vorik squeezed her hand.
“As if the threat of the stormers wasn’t enough,” the driver added, “did you hear that Fograth had Teyla Moonmark arrested yesterday? Because she’s the heir after you? We all thought— Well, her brother, Relvin and their father were supposedly a part of helping Fograth take the throne. You’d think that would make them all allies and that nobody would target a young woman. She’s just an academic, anyway, isn’t she? But I reckon people change once they get what they want. Or maybe it’s just that they let their true selves stand on display.”
“Teyla was arrested?” Syla had almost taken her cousin with her when she’d departed with the fleet, but, after Teyla had finished translating the runes on the weapons platform, there hadn’t been a reason to risk her in sea battles. Maybe that had been a mistake. “By enforcers? To be taken with the other moon-marked people?”
“I heard she’s being held on her family’s estate and that— Well, there are rumors that Fograth wants to wed a moon-marked woman with a tie to the throne. It would further legitimize his claim, and he probably needs someone around who can access the shielders and other ancient artifacts that only respond to the gods-gifted.”
Syla thought of the weapons platform. “What’s Relvin up to?”
“I don’t know that, Your Majesty.”
“You can call me Syla. I assume we’re related.”
“I’m Jibbs, Your Majesty. And I’m not sure that would be proper. It’s been about eight-hundred years since my family had any kind of tie to the throne. I use my power to develop hybrid strains of vegetables. My only claim to fame is that my father was the one to cross cauliflower with turnip greens to make broccoli, which has become a popular vegetable in the Kingdom.”
“We like relatives who use their powers to be useful,” Tibby said.
“I might not like one who invented broccoli,” Fel muttered.
“You’re a heathen,” she told him.
“Who prefers meat to vegetables.”
“Heathenishly,” Tibby said.
“You twosureyou’re not married?” Jibbs asked.
“Quite positive,” Tibby said, though she still hadn’t shifted away from Fel. Italmostlooked like she was in his lap, but who could tell in the dark?
The highway widened as the wagon entered the outskirts of Lyvor, houses lining the way and dogs in yards barking as they passed. Ahead, an arch over the road marked the official entrance to the harbor town, and two stone guard towers rose to either side. Since it was after dark, the men on duty might pass the wagon through without question, but Syla wouldn’t bet on that.
