From there it was quite simple for the King to settle things with the Angran refugees. Tensions seemed to have easily and naturally diffused with time, like gleaming morning dew evaporating in the day’s heat. Shrike especially seemed to have relaxed greatly around him. Though little aside from some rations of food and water could be given to help the Angrans with how unstable things were in Gresha City at this moment, they could be snuck out of the city, and would then be entirely free to go where they pleased.
From there he could have left, but one thing itched at his mind. Shrike seemed to take notice, beckoning him away from the rest.
“You think I’m a man?” Shrike asked, when they were alone.
“I thought that it was usually men in Angra who had names like yours,” Elian said carefully. The events of the very, very long day had left him quite drained, and to ruin the accord that had been reached on top of all that had happened would be worse than frustrating. But Shrike seemed to take no offense at all—perhaps something stronger had been forged between them today.
“It’s warriors who have names like mine,” said Shrike.
A brow arched. “Your warriors aren’t men?”
“Most of them are,” Shrike said, carefully. “In some villages, I’m sure it’s only men. And perhaps not all like me still see themselves as women. But I’m not the only woman warrior I know.”
“So the rumors are true, that women among the Angra can become warriors?” I asked. “I hadn’t met any before, so I assumed it was just a rumor among Greshans. Another ‘reason’ you were—”
“ ‘Barbaric’?”
I smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yes.”
“I’m surprised.”
“That I think that of you?”
She shook her head. “No. But I thought Gresha let its women become warriors, too.” Then she frowned, wrinkles creasing around her mouth. “But from how that woman we encountered spoke…now I think not.”
I rubbed at my temple, drifting over to a window and sitting in the sill. Shrike sat beside me when I gestured.
“War is considered exclusively the domain of men. But sometimes sacrifices must be made,” I said quietly. “So a woman who joins the military stops being a woman, and starts being considered a man. Soldiers will sometimes have relations with each other, it’s thought to make them fight harder. But hearth, home, motherhood…for as long they wield a blade, they’re meant to put it all aside.” After a time, I added, “Being a proud mother is what most Greshan women are meant to dream of.”
Shrike raised a brow at that, but said nothing, instead gazing out the window with a pensive look. On the roof across the way birds were flocking together, rustling their wings to perhaps compete for mates.
“In Angra,” she said, “motherhood is considered something that makes one fierce. One of the virtues of the Sun Fiend and Crown Naruune.”
“The Sun Fiend? Virtuous?” Talon would rather drop dead than call her that.
Shrike scowled. “She’s our enemy, but she’s a powerful and cunning one. We would have no chance of winning if we couldn’t recognize her strengths for what they are.”
“Wise,” I muttered.
“Some of the women who become warriors in Angra, they do it because they are avoiding something,” Shrike continued. “Some of them say they were never women at all. I can’t say much for home and hearth, but even so, I can’t think of myself as anything other than Sparrow’s elder sister.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry, though. You…sound like you sacrificed something important.”
I laughed, carefully looking away from her. “It wasn’t much of a sacrifice. It was the easiest choice in the world.”
“I see. Then that woman was a bitch. And good riddance.”
Forya had more or less admitted her guilt to the rumors through her actions, to the surprise of myself and, I was certain, a great many others. Undoubtedly I was not the only one confused by her apparent crimes. Had she and Aradenene truly been in love, as the rumors would have one believe? Was there no emotion to it all, just one spiteful rebellion sticking out in an otherwise spotless life? Or…I recalled how much older Forya was compared to my own parents, when Lordrin was around my age. Menone was meant to also be the King’s son, but was even her…?
Not that any of it mattered to Nania, to the Angrans, to the courts. I wasn’t even certain it mattered to her son.
Shrike’s mouth twisted as she watched me. “You call yourself a warrior. But you strike me as being more like Sparrow,” she said, thoughtfully.
“I’m older than you.”
“And yet,” was her retort. “That woman has hurt many people. As has her son. You want to spare them both.”
“They have knowledge I don’t,” I spat.
“You lack of confidence. You’ve done better than either of them have, in this role, haven’t you?”
I laughed, bitterly. “I’ve been in this role for only three days.”
“Then continue to rule, day by day. Eventually you’ll know all they know,” Shrike said, with a disdainful shrug. “Anyways. If you are too weak to give them what they deserve, simply turn them over to Angran custody. It will go a long way to making things right between our peoples.”
I frowned. It was true, those two had hurt the Angrans more than they’d hurt anyone else. But would I be viewed as corrupt if I did as Shrike asked, rather than dealing with them myself?
Or did I just want to look away from bloodshed? Even as a soldier, I tried my hardest to always hold back, to never kill. With Angrans looking so much thinner and weaker compared to Greshans, lacking the safety of walls to hide behind or political power, it was easy to tell myself when fighting them that we were not enemies, the Sun Fiend was the true common foe. I was in the right to spare them. But was that now a weakness to be purged?
“A lot of Angrans have spent a very long time considering what sorts of punishments would be appropriate for the likes of them, healer-boy,” Shrike said, darkly.
“I can’t promise both,” I finally said, “but fine. I will think about it.”
She sighed. “I suppose it’s better than we’ve gotten from your kind in a very long time.”
“He’s—he’s young yet—”
“So are you,” Shrike spat, “and yet why are you different?”
I opened my mouth, then looked out the window again. The birds were flying off now. Mourning doves, I thought. “Luck of fate, I suppose.”
“You shouldn’t rely on luck. The Crowns respect those who make their own fate.,” Shrike said as she rose to her feet. Then she offered me an outstretched hand. “You’ve made good decisions so far. So just keep making them. And I’m sure our Elder will look forward to working with the new King of Gresha, for once.” A smirk appeared on her face. “Perhaps it really is a new age.”
I hesitated, then accepted her open hand.
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There was justice. It was difficult to determine how many people would call it such, but there was justice doled out.
The guards who had provoked Lordrin were allowed to return to their duty after notches had been taken from their ears, as a warning against listening to the wrong things. A rather standard punishment. Upon investigation, Dennia was indeed found to be the one responsible for poisoning the young King, having pulled connections amongst the kitchen staff and maidservants. The King covered up Lordrin’s involvement and pleaded mercy for the commoners dragged into it. But Dennia could not escape the punishment of execution. Circumventing a similar fate for so many, and keeping the Angrans out of the whole mess, was already something of a miracle.
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Had Lordrin known he was a bastard, his crime for sitting upon the throne would have been much, much heftier. But his ignorance and how well-loved a King he once had been were both remembered. He was branded with the Thief’s Mark, and assigned a term of servitude by the young King, to be spent serving him.
The former Head Priestess Forya was accused of infidelity, deception, theft of the throne, and betrayal against the last true king. Her punishment would be heaviest of all, yet King Elian pleaded for mercy for her, as well. Rather than torture and execution, her lying serpent’s tongue would be removed, and she would be exiled from the city. Banished to wander the Wastelands, with the criminals and the Angrans. To many, the implications were not missed.
Aradenene easily cooperated with investigations and served as witness against Forya’s acts. His punishment was light, and his and Menone’s faction remained a firm ally of King Elian’s. Though it may have seemed unfair to punish him so lightly to some, he remained a strong supporter of the young King Elian.
Finally, Nania’s case was a strange one. Initially I Elian had hoped to banish her as well. She would not be bound for the wastelands—more likely, she’d make for the Deep Woods. In her place, Sarya would be designated his Head Priestess, and hopefully she would prove a trustworthy ally herself. But to his surprise, the girl declined the role.
“You seemed close with that girl Nania, she’d be far better with it,” were her words when he offered.
“I have to disagree. Do you really think she’d be a good Head Priestess? She’s known as the girl who used Hell Magic, fraternized with Angrans, and punched the previous Head Priestess.”
“But,” Sarya said, holding up one finger, “she was antagonized by a Head Priestess who lied about the lineage of the then-King, who was never truly a Crown-son, and who was abandoned by Crown Naruune during another’s challenge. The first serious challenge he received, y’see. It could be that all those things you said were true—or it could be that she was the first and only person to really see through the Head Priestess’ deceptions.”
My expression soured. “You really think that? She wouldn’t be respected as a Head Priestess.”
“No one really knows what to think just now, things can change,” Sarya laughed, “maybe even opinions about the Angra could change.”
Was that really true? Or was she simply trying to appeal to my interests? It certainly wasn’t just that she thought Nania would make the better Head Priestess. If I was reading this girl right, she may just prefer to keep out of the positions of great import—and avoid the immense responsibility, blame, and scorn such roles would foist upon her.
I couldn’t blame her at all. Look what Head Priestess had gotten Forya.
We discussed a few other things, but my mind still lingered on Nania’s fate. Making her Head Priestess was a terrible idea. Putting aside how ill-suited for the role she was, how others might think about her, how happy she would be in the city without Talon, how she’d have to work with Lordrin, and the irresponsibility of staying king even while keeping my friends far away, there was the fact that I had, in all likeliness, completely lost her trust by now.
Nania valued her independence and freedom above all else. She hated being belittled, manipulated, toyed with. The Priestesses and Dennia had done such things to her in the past. My intentions in doing the same did not matter: she would not be seeking to become Head Priestess out of a desire to help me, not anymore. It would be because she didn’t trust me. To prevent me from scheming. From hurting anyone else.
Though…perhaps that could be a good thing in and of itself, too. I still didn’t understand why ‘Crown Ruuthelaine’ had chosen me. Perhaps a part of me had hoped Talon would confront me, if I went too far. But I couldn’t commit to that. If someone as clever as Nania could see through me, and had the political power to stop me…
Then I would almost deserve to be stopped, when the time came. I still couldn’t use her like that.
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Nania and I did not speak for the next several days. The duties of a king could not be ignored, especially when there was no longer a Head Priestess to keep order in the temple, and Forya had had many supporters. Sarya helped to keep them in check, while I struggled to do my duty, despite my illiteracy and drifting focus.
A part of me wished to bring Lordrin on as my aide right away, but the man seemed broken. No longer did he scheme and plan to get the better of me, instead he simply sat in his cell and stared. Somehow, I muddled through it all, with assistance from Menone, Aradenene, several scribes, and the healers.
I wasn’t a complete fool. They all had their own agendas, I knew. But I needed allies, after destabilizing things by banishing Forya and not immediately appointing a new Head Priestess. And Menone and Aradenene were the ones who controlled the military—the ones who determined how the most important interactions with the Angra would be conducted. If my Kingship were to hold any meaning, I needed to remain on their good side.
Sarya would not be my Head Priestess, but she did agree to be my ally and keep the temple in check. And she seemed to do a good job, playing factions off against each other. I did not even hear a peep from Nania.
But that didn’t mean this job was easy. Not when there was still an ongoing drought. Not when those in charge of farms and food stores were extremely worried about diminishing rations. The Harvest Festival wasn’t so long ago, we would be safe for months yet. For now, it was a lingering ill omen from Lordrin’s rule—but it had to be dealt with, and quickly.
When I embarked on a trip back to the Deep Woods, bound for Hallow Zaya’s abode, accompanied by Nania, there were several reasons for it. For one, a break from the stresses and demands of my new role was nice. It wouldn’t do to wallow in nostalgia for too long, but it wasn’t as if this trip were purely for my own relaxation. I also intended to speak with Hallow Zaya, and ask her for blessings for the fields.
And of course, there was Nania.
The city was a place of constant change and activity. While the woods were just as loud, they seemed static and primeval. These towering trees had existed, unchanged, since before Gresha City’s construction. The little brooks and rills still babbled merrily. Rodents and other creatures darted about in the foliage, colorful birds flitted far above. And though I was sure the insects had died and been reborn a dozen times since we had first stumbled through these woods as children, their raucous droning was just the same as it had been then. Steadily we both relaxed, as our focus turned to crossing stones, streams, and massive roots. There was a peace here, not found in stillness or silence, but in uncaring wildlife that avoided us both, instead of making either of us the center of the universe, and it made it easier to ignore the awkward silence between us.
That is, until Nania drew attention to it.
“Do you hate me?” she asked.
I missed a step, catching myself on the ground. She moved to help me up, but I quickly stood, pulling away. “Watch your step,” I said, more resolved to watch the ground for any tricky terrain. “It seems we’re both out of practice here. When’s the last time you went running on rooftops?”
She said nothing else for some time. Then she finally said, “I used to love you.”
“But you don’t anymore.”
A heavy sigh tore from her mouth. “No, I still love you, too. I can love you and Talon both, can’t I?”
Her words sounded rehearsed. “You don’t need to keep pretending. I told you before, I can’t—I don’t want to love anyone in that way. Not now.”
“I know, I told you before, how would another Priestess react if she knew—”
I shook my head, as if shaking off the words. “We’ve been over this before.”
“And you didn’t have a good answer!”
“I told you! I don’t care about an heir, I’ll—I’ll find some other way to choose a new leader! I’ll adopt an heir, hold a tournament, something!” I said, raising my voice. “Are you satisfied yet?”
“You should be thinking of these things sooner, rather than later—”
“Would Talon be happy to hear you offer to basically be my wife?” I asked, rounding on her. Her face grew very pale, mouth a thin line across her face. Aside from those things, however, she did not break or crack. “You know what they do to the unfaithful in Angra, right? Hell. You know what we just did with Forya.”
“You don’t mean any of that,” she said, quietly. “And it’s not infidelity. I’m not offering you an heir, and you know that, I know you’d both hate that—I’m offering to buy you time, so stop being difficult.” She huffed a breath. “I’m just trying to help you.”
I said nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, she tugged at her dress. Anxiety again. She was planning something, or doubting. Good.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing, or worrying too much. But the way you’ve been acting lately—I just don’t understand,” she admitted, before laughing bitterly. “Perhaps I’ve just underestimated your heroism, again. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Talon is important to me, too. I love him. But he’s not my husband, and has no say over what I do. I don’t have say over you, either, I don’t want to tell you what’s right or wrong—but please, don’t push me away. Just let me help.”
“I always appreciate your help,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. “But why should my dream come before yours? I’ll stay in Gresha City and you will leave, and that’s that.”
Though Nania said nothing in response to that, slowly the mood struggled and died, beneath the droning of cicadas. Not even entering the domain of Hallow Zaya, a proper goddess Nania had been raised on stories about, seemed to lift her spirits again. We ascended uneven root-crafted steps around a massive titan of a tree, passing through the Deep Woods’ emerald canopy until we could see the suns and the sky again, and there was no change in her expression.
Idly I wondered why Hallow Zaya lived so near to the sky, instead of on the ground, closer to her Mother. Was there some dispute between them I didn’t know of?
At last, we approached the goddess’ cottage. It was small, unassuming—if it weren’t far off the ground, grown from a tree, containing a divine occupant. Carefully I schooled my expression back into a pleasant grin, knowing Hallow Zaya hadn’t seemed to like me much at all last time we had met. In all honesty, she had seemed to be barely restraining herself, waiting for me to finally leave. She may not appreciate my coming back so soon to ask favors of her, and so this wasn’t a break. It was the ultimate test of my skills in diplomacy and etiquette. I knocked on the door.
The smile fell from my face entirely when the door opened to reveal Talon.