Fall of Thrones and Thorns Read online

I bark out a rough laugh. I’ve had dozens of versions of this conversation with myself since last night, but I don’t think anyone else needs an explanation for the facsimile of humor.

  It means that my name itself laughable.

  It means the name is wrong.

  Most of all, it means that I still haven’t managed to find the humor in any of this.

  “What do you suggest we call you, then?” Medalyn asks hotly, rolling her eyes.

  “Perhaps you should call me imposter,” I suggest brightly, standing to dust my knees. I manage to contort my face in a smile, pretending to beam at them. “That is a title I have rightly earned. I’ve claimed to be something I’m not for nigh on sixteen years.”

  “Stop,” Caden says. He holds out a hand to quiet me. “You don’t need to snap at all of us. We’re on your side. And, Aleta, you still are who you are. Just because—”

  “I’ll thank you to keep your platitudes to yourself,” I snap. “Her Highness Princess Breena Aleta Perdit of Secan, Nereidium, or What-Have-You has had months to accept her rapidly changing identities. I’d appreciate the same courtesy extended to me.”

  “Bree,” Caden says stubbornly, pursing his lips. “Her name is Bree.”

  “Yes, well…” I keep my expression still and dig my nails into my palm, stifling the flames that want to leap to my fingertips with my frustration. “Her subjects may disagree.”

  That silences them all once again. Wind flits in through the open air courtyard, whistling between the columns into the quiet.

  “I’m going to go swing a sword at something.” Sir Liam, still until now, breaks the hush that’s fallen over the room. “Less danger of a misstep there.”

  “I’ll join you.” Lady Lilia shoves off the wall, checking to ensure that her weapon is secure at her hip.

  Medalyn scrambles up, knives suddenly in her hands. “For the love of the Makers, take me with you. I need to stab something.”

  Liam and Lilia exchange trepidatious glances, and Medalyn rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax. Not one of you.” She mutters, “Infants, the lot of them,” to herself as they leave.

  “And I require a walk,” I say when they’re gone. Tregle stands at once to accompany me, but I stay him with a quelling hand and a look that I hope doesn’t speak to my desperate need to escape all of them. “I’d prefer to be alone for a moment.”

  I exit the room, leaving Elena, Caden, and Tregle behind me. At last, I have the solitude I’ve craved for hours. I find my way to a balcony overlooking trees, mountains, and ocean. I know that the city lies nestled in the mountain as well, but it isn’t visible from this vantage point.

  I lean against the railing, letting my wrists lay lax against the stone. It’s unfair that Nereidium is everything I dreamed it would be. For years back in Egria, I’d soothed myself to sleep with fantasies of the country. Caden used to sneak me mentions of Nereidium that he came across in texts. Mostly dry scholarly language about the domiciles, climate and geography, the government structure. I’d hoarded the information like an animal stockpiles food for the winter. It had been my sustenance. What got me through all of those years and allowed me to survive.

  When I was younger and King Langdon had been particularly cruel, I’d lie awake, pretending that my aunt was whispering to me.

  “You are valued. You are needed. You are loved. I will come for you.”

  As I grew older, I grew angrier. I was treated like a toy in the Egrian court. A pawn when I should have been a queen.

  But still at night, that whisper.

  “I will come for you. I will come for you. I will come for you.”

  No one ever came. And when I finally came to them, the woman I’d dreamt of for years had said nothing to me. Except to call me a liar.

  My hands curl tight around the balcony’s rail, and as I gaze out at the surrounding mountains and an uncertain future, there is a burning behind my eyes that I cannot attribute to my element.

  Three

  Caden

  “What’s crawled up your bum and crapped in it, Your Sulkiness?”

  My feet halt in their stride as I turn to glare at Lilia, who has returned from a bout of training with Sir Liam. The rest of them haven’t returned yet, and I’ve had nothing to do but fret inside this very generous cage. Lilia’s cheeks are flushed and her hair streaked with sweat, but her eyes are a good deal clearer than they’d been when we’d all been crammed inside a room, treading delicately around Aleta.

  Makers. Aleta.

  “Sulky?” I say, resuming my pacing anew. “Really? Are you certain you don’t wish to rethink your choice of words, Lilia? You don’t think a bit of consideration over the situation is warranted?”

  She should consider, for instance, that Aleta is coming apart at the seams. That they’ve separated us from Bree. Father and Ruin’s Reaping are still coming, no matter what methods the Nereids use to deter him. At some point, he’s bound to figure out what I already have. There’s got to be a method to launch the substance from the ships to the shore, remaining at a safe distance.

  Lilia gets up. “Of course it’s warranted, but this constant movement without purpose isn’t doing anyone a lick of good, Caden.”

  Logically, I know that, but… Unwilling, my feet stutter to a stop, and I lift my arms in a shrug, feeling helpless. “I fear that if I don’t stay in motion, I’ll go mad.”

  “You won’t,” she assures me. “But you may drive the rest of us there if you do.”

  Fine. I take a seat on the bed, crossing my arms and letting my thoughts whirl about. They most certainly cannot stay still. “I have a terrible feeling about the fact that they’ve separated us from Bree like this.” It itches at me. It’s too much like the months we were separated after her father’s death. I had no way to know of her wellbeing. I could do nothing but hope that she and the others were all right.

  “You make it sound as though she’s marooned on an island while we’re a world away and locked in a dungeon.” She crosses the room and grips my shoulder as if to press her words into me by force. “Caden. We have been placed in comfortable housing for a single night. Your lady-love—”

  I rankle at the glibness of the term, and she grins at drawing a reaction out of me.

  “Your lady-looove,” she draws out, “is understandably with the queen regent, seeing as how she has turned out to be the princess.” Her voice rises with her emphasis, and she throws her arms to the side, exasperated with me. “Caden, you excel in objectivity when it comes to your studies. Makers, even when it comes to battle formations. Try to apply a little of that objectivity here. If you were on the Nereid side, wouldn’t you determine your best course of action to be drawing your princess to your side where you could be certain she’s safe, rather than keeping her with the Egrians, who you have no cause to think are innocent—or anything less than dangerous given your past experience?”

  Perhaps I prove her right by sulking, but I tighten my arms over my chest and furrow my brows. “I hate when you make sense. It’s so unlike you.”

  “I have my moments, it’s true.” She stretches her arms over her head, lengthening her spine like a cat with a matching expression of very feline contentment painted on her face. “The question is, what are you going to do now? Give Bree time to be with her family or barge into the affair like a bull-nosed dog after a bone?”

  Conflicts swirl within me, my brain fighting to assert dominance over my heart. Over the twisted snarl of feelings that makes it up right now.

  It’s not what I want. Not at all, but… “I’ll leave her be. At least until such time as action is required.”

  Lilia grins and smacks me on the knee. “That’s the spirit. She’ll come to you in time, I’m sure.”

  I envy Lilia her ability to keep her disposition merry. I feel as though I have a thundercloud looming over my head, myself.

  I don’t know how she can stand to ally herself with me sometimes. It’s because of me that she’s lost her family.

  As i
f she senses the direction my thoughts are turning, she gives my knee a squeeze and speaks, voice soft. “I think Elsbeth would be proud of us, you know?”

  Her sister, who’d refused to lend us aid in this quest against my father for the safety of their estate. And had died anyway. I let out a small sound of disbelief. “How do you suppose that?”

  “She wouldn’t put anyone else at risk, but she believed in the cause. In you. So does Sir Liam. And I’d wager that the rest of this crew are ready to take a stand against your father regardless of who leads. This is only a pause. We’ll move forward, and when we do, we’ll be all the better for having prepared.”

  ~~~

  “Oof.” Days later, I land with a hard thump on my ass and glare up at my assailant. Sir Liam extends an armored hand toward me in a gesture of goodwill and I accept it. Begrudgingly.

  I can hold my own against Adept Tregle in hand-to-hand combat. Lady Elena as well. Despite being soldiers, they have concentrated their combat training on their Elemental abilities, and I have enough weapons practice to handle them, provided I remain vigilant and dodge their strikes.

  I thought perhaps I would be able to defeat Bree’s new companion, Medalyn. She was a peasant, after all, and not a soldier. But I shouldn’t have discounted her. I knew that she’d been sent by the Egrian Underground. By Clift, who I knew well. He wouldn’t have had her accompany us without good reason. She fights well. She fights dirty. And, provided she has a knife in her hand, she’s damn near unbeatable. Knife clamped between her teeth, she neatly ducks and evades my sword, then flips me over her hip.

  Liam casts her an admiring glance. “Nice form.” He compliments her as through praising a prized show horse.

  As for my bouts against Liam… Makers, I don’t even wish to discuss those embarrassing battles. Between Liam and Lilia, I’m ready to turn my sword over to someone who deserves it more. Ordinarily, when I face Lilia, the victories are divided somewhat evenly between us. But she and Liam seem to be trading off trouncing me thoroughly.

  I’m distracted. It makes my technique sloppy.

  “Perhaps,” I suggest when I’ve gotten to my feet, “I would do better standing off to the side shouting chess moves as a parry to your strikes.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser, Caden,” Lilia says. She stretches from side to side, testing the strain from her muscles, and nods as though they’ve spoken to her. “Right. I think I’m done for the day.”

  “As am I,” Elena says, the flame she’d been thoughtlessly tossing from palm to palm extinguishing with a curl of her fist. “No sense completely depleting my reserves. Any word yet on when I’ll be able to roast Langdon in person instead of mere effigy?” She indicates the smoking remains of one of the straw men we’d pulled together for her and Tregle to practice their aim.

  I jolt, imagining what she says. Father’s skin blackened. Dry. A charred husk over bone.

  The rest of them fall silent as I swallow, and Elena’s expression is regretful as she remembers that he isn’t just an evil king to me. He’s my father.

  I need to accept that it’s going to come to that. And likely soon.

  But no. In answer to Elena’s query, there isn’t any word yet. Silently, I shake my head, sweat from my hair flopping down into my eyes as I grit my teeth in frustration.

  “Then, yes. I’m done for the day.” She removes a weapon from her belt and tosses it to Liam. “I appreciate the loan. See that it gets back to your man safely. I think I’m going to seek out a quiet spot to meditate.”

  It’s not the first time Elena has mentioned meditation—a way to quiet the restless voices running around and around her brain. But it’s the first time that Lilia, panting, lays aside her weapon as well.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” she asks. “I could do with a bit of silence in my head these days.” The shadow of grief passes over her expression almost too quickly for me to process, but it’s there.

  Grief of my own stabs at me. For the family she’s so recently lost. For all the people lost to Father’s machinations.

  Elena nods her acceptance of Lilia’s company.

  Lilia needs to quiet her voices. But not me, I think as I turn to ladle some water into my mouth. I need the thoughts that chase themselves in a circle in my mind. Eventually, I have to believe that they’ll spin themselves around so quickly that they’ll build a tornado—something we can use. A solution we can turn toward Egria.

  Cold horror straightens my spine. No, not toward Egria. Toward my father. Always, I have been careful to keep this distinction in my mind. We are at war against my father. Against those who choose to ally themselves alongside him. Not my innocent countrymen who have little choice in the matter.

  An idea will be flung loose from the tornado soon. I’m sure of it.

  It has to be.

  “I think I’ll end practice early as well,” Tregle says. His hands go to his hips as he massages a stiff spot below his ribcage.

  “Wanting to check on your princess, no doubt,” says Meddie, voice teasing as she stretches.

  “Meddie.” His voice is quietly reproachful. “I know that you mean it in jest and the ribbing is all in good fun, but surely you see that it’s less than humorous at the moment.”

  The grin on her face fades. “Right. Of course.” She clears her throat. “Sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Better you say it to me than her right now. But, yes, I want to see how Aleta’s doing.”

  I should make a point to talk to her myself soon. “It may help her to join us. How is she handling everything?” I ask.

  The way he pins me with his eyes is hard. “How would you react?”

  A fair point and I’m not bold enough to hold the eye contact as it lands. He’s right. If my world—my universe, my entire sense of self—had been uprooted the way that Aleta’s has been, I’d feel…unmoored. Adrift in a sea without even a piece of driftwood to cling to.

  “You’re right. You should attend her.”

  He cocks his head to the side in a question. “Would you care to join me, Highness?” He turns his gaze to Meddie. “Meddie?”

  “No,” I say as Meddie shakes her head. “I’d rather stay here. That is, if Sir Liam will favor me with another go-around.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.” Liam grins good-naturedly and slaps me on the back. I jump forward with the force of his blow.

  The three of them leave us as Meddie throws herself onto the ground, watching Liam and I as we circle each other on the wet grass with the sort of careless attention one gives to a pair of puppies they find romping through the street.

  “You know your problem, Highness?” she calls to me as Liam and I draw our practice swords. Liam feints forward and I jog back to avoid him.

  “What’s that?” I ask, keeping a wary eye on him.

  “You’re too pure of heart. You fight too clean, too concerned with what’s fair and good and right in the world.” She nods at Liam. “Can I…?”

  “Of course,” he and I both say at once. I stow my sword to better observe their demonstration.

  She draws her daggers, in protective sheaths so as not to cut any allies in our training sessions, and lowers herself into a defensive position. “Highness, you focus on the weapon and gaps in the weapon’s defenses only—which is good! I don’t mean to say it’s not. But…” Frustrated with her inability to find the words she needs, she turns to Liam, a question in her eyes. “Will you…?”

  At once, Liam’s sword is a blur, and I can barely track his footwork. Meddie’s smile is that of a war-mongering demon as she dodges and strikes back.

  But then, I pay attention to what she’s doing without her weapons. Her center of balance is different from Liam’s and she uses it to keep him in check. She can swivel and twist in a way that he simply can’t. And, when one of his strikes comes a beat too late, she’s able to get inside his footwork. Neatly, she hooks her ankle behind his and tugs. Liam goes sprawling, flat onto his back. She follows directly, knocking his swo
rd from his hand while he’s focused more on escape, and pins him to the ground.

  He stares up at her, looking amazed and not a little admiring. “I yield.”

  She pushes hair from her eyes and streaks dirt across her cheek, panting as she straddles him. “Thought you might.” She turns to me. “Your father doesn’t fight fair, Your Highness. So we can’t either. We have to seize any advantage we find, no matter how small, in the hopes that we can trip him up.”

  Her advantage against Liam had been her ability to maneuver around him until he was tired enough to slip. It had been the different tactics she’d trained in, her abilities with double-handed combat, never hesitating to press an advantage, even if he couldn’t meet it. Even if it wasn’t a fair fight.

  She’s right, I think as she hops off Liam and extends a hand, helping him up.

  Doing what was right, what was just, had been what spurred me to take a stand against my father in the first place. But perhaps…

  I sigh, hating even to think of it. Perhaps I need to forget what is fair, in the name of the greater good and the innocent lives that are at stake.

  If I come to some sort of resolution, if I’m able to develop any sort of plan against Father that could win us this war, even if it means sacrificing some of my ideals…

  I have to take it.

  Four

  Bree

  In waking, my thoughts are plagued with worry, though my aunt does her level best to keep me occupied. She calls in a teacher for my Water Throwing. Though here, in Nereidium, they call it Water Wielding—and their soldiers who practice the art are titled Wielders.

  They don’t expect me to be able to Wield again this close to the last time. They all saw the spectacle in the ocean as I’d dragged the small contingency of Egrian ships to a watery grave and rightly assume that it’s exhausted my reserves.

  Instead, as Lady Helen flits to and from her home, sending letters to the governors of the other city-states and smaller islands that comprise the Nereid nation, I’m subjected to a great deal of theory behind the craft of Water Wielding. One of the best things I can do to replenish my abilities is drink a great deal of water, so I’m rarely without a glass in hand.