“Ferdinand, you misunderstood—”
“I did not and do not. The Warlord’s power did not change hands. And the person handpicked to wield power in your stead is dead. You are still the Warlord as much as I am king.”
“My king,”—Geneva’s teeth flashed—“you twist my words.”
“I do not.”
Geneva scoffed. “Shall I retrieve the letter and detail the planyoudevised in the study within your chambers?”
Satordi bit. “What letter?”
“This one.” The king pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket, as smoothly as Amarande had. “It is in cipher, but what it is, is an attempt at extortion—the princess for permanent power transferred to the temporary Warlord. Exactly what happens when loyalties are divided.”
The king let that accusation hang, and it sucked nearly all the air out of the room. Was this what it had been like when Amarande had stood with Koldo by her side, demanding these same people change the laws so she could access her own power and not be beholden to laws that served only the vipers surrounding her?
Luca had never known his mother—the queen or his surrogate mother, Lygia—but he did know the chiding look Geneva gave the boy she raised as her son. It said he was silly, a child, one who did not understand the weight of what his words meant. “You killed her. To obtain the princess and her stableboy for the good of Ardenia. Is that what all this is about, Ferdinand? Did you want credit for your bravery in saving your sister? Rather than to keep it just between us? Well, now everyone knows how loyal you are to the sister who sees you as a threat.”
Amarande took a step forward and Ferdinand thrust out a hand to hold her back.
“Mother.” Even with Ferdinand’s Koldo-like calm, frustration bit at the word. “I did not kill her, but she is dead.”
“The semantics of this person’s life do not matter,” Satordi announced.
“Geneva’s loyalties are divided, yes, and the semantics of this person’s lifedomatter,” Amarande assured him, the pressure of hershoulder against Luca’s body increasing. Now she was supporting him—and Luca’s heartbeat sped up accordingly. “Because the person believed to be the Warlord by her own people was killed when the Warlord’s camp was ambushed and claimed by the rightful leader of the Kingdom of Torrence.”
Geneva did not betray a hint of surprise, other than to coolly set her attention on Luca. He swallowed but gave it to her right back, staring down the Warlord now, free of her secrets and masks, everything now in the open.
Joseba’s erudite voice entered the fray. “The Otxoa were the rightful leaders of the Kingdom of Torrence—and they are extinct.”
“I assure you they are not.”
Satordi squinted at Amarande. “How—”
“As a prisoner in the Warlord’s camp, I saw the whole thing with my own eyes,” Amarande answered. “The ambush, the attack, the symbolic Warlord plummeting to her death in her own fire pit. And then, her people’s retreat and surrender, to the rightful king.”
Here, Luca’s love turned to him, looked him straight in the eye, and made sure none of these people would call him stableboy again. “Luca, the rightful heir of the Otxoa, sheltered here at the Itspi by King Sendoa, all these years.”
Amarande smiled at him then, and he shared it as the weight of every eye in the room pressed in upon him. “And before you ask, Satordi, we have proof. Proof that Luca is heir, proof that King Sendoa knew. And proof that he’d planned to not only alert Luca to his destiny but help him fulfill it, by attacking the Warlord, whom he knew to be his Runaway Queen.”
Each accusation hit like a cannonball, breaking apart the bow, the hull, the mast of this ship they were on, sending it splintered into the forever sea of time, intention, work.
Though they had it at the ready—the tattoo, the map with Sendoa’s plans upon it, and Koldo’s direct knowledge, if she ever arrived—neither Satordi nor any of the other councilors requested that proof. Instead, the lead councilor tented his fingers and looked to Ferdinand.
“My king, I think perhaps, given this new information shared by both yourself and the Princess, it would be best if the Queen Mother be relieved of further discussions of King Sendoa’s plans for Ardenia, and the Torrent—her loyalties as stated are murky indeed and a danger to Ardenia, in my estimation. If you believe that prudent, I will call a guard to remove her.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Geneva insisted.
“Itisnecessary.” Ferdinand squared his shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, Satordi, but that decision is not mine to make. My sister, as rightful heir and queen, what is your wish?”
The mouths of each of the councilors fell open while Geneva’s jaw tightened, betrayal and anger fierce upon her cheeks. Amarande did not budge. “Guards shall escort the Queen Mother to her chambers and remain outside her door.”
In a show of support, the king called to the hall, “Guards, please remove the Queen Mother to her chambers and keep watch there!”
Movement came from beyond the door, and as the men and women sorted their new orders Satordi’s voice rang low, livid, across the length of the room. “My king, with war on our doorstep am I understanding that you are… ceding power?”
“Yes. A lie made me king. It is one all of you participated in, and I as well. I am not the rightful heir and my decisions are secondary to my sister, who is the rightful queen.”
“But the union of kingdoms of the Sand and Sky must approve—”
