The Dawn Star (19 page)

Jade grimaced. “Apparently I do.”

Fieldson took a moment to absorb that. Then he spoke with care. “I would think that if war threatens Taka Mal and Jazid, the atajazid would form an alliance with less demanding terms.”

“Perhaps. One would hope to avoid such a threat.”

“How?” he demanded. “By kidnapping the queen's brother?”

“No.” She mentally braced herself. “By marrying the queen's brother.”

Fieldson stared at her. It was the first time she had seen him truly speechless. She waited.

Finally he said, “That is—unexpected.”

He was a master of understatement. “If you find it so,” she said wryly, “imagine how my generals will react.” One in particular.

He stood thinking. “If the Houses of Quaazera and Dawnfield were to ally, Cobalt couldn't invade Taka Mal. It would violate the treaty he signed guaranteeing he wouldn't attack any country ruled by the House of his wife's family.”

“He would also have a guarantee that Taka Mal wouldn't turn against him,” Jade pointed out. “The same treaty that would forbid Cobalt from attacking Taka Mal would stop us from attacking him.”

Fieldson looked incredulous. “It's brilliant. Impossible, but brilliant.”

She regarded him steadily. “Nothing is impossible.”

“I came here to protect Drummer, not make him the target of every assassin in Taka Mal and Jazid.”

“He won't be a target if he is no longer in Taka Mal when I announce the betrothal.” Jade knew she had gone too far to turn back in this discussion. “Unfortunately, the announcement may put my top military officers in the unenviable position of having to choose between their queen and their commander.”

“You are their commander.”

“Yes, well, as you may have noticed, not everyone here considers the throne an appropriate piece of furniture for a woman.” She leaned against the window frame and folded her arms. “Some will support me, some will support Baz, and most won't know what to do. My honor guard might have to protect me against a forced marriage to their commanding officer. Who do they obey? It would be a mess.”

“So you need bodyguards without that loyalty conflict.”

“Even better, guards with a vested interest in keeping me betrothed to Drummer Headwind.”

He exhaled. “I see.”

“Sphere-General Fieldson.” She lapsed into the more formal cadences she used in negotiations. “Goodman Headwind's situation has given rise to concerns for his health, even his life. I offer him into your custody so that you may escort him back to Aronsdale. In return, you will leave your honor guard here, as hostages for the negotiations we wish to continue.” Hostages indeed. They would be protecting her from her own kin. “Taka Mal will provide you with officers for your return to Aronsdale.”

He inclined his head. “Your Majesty, I believe we may be able to find a common ground in this.”

“I am glad.” Jade felt as if she were falling off a cliff. This could backfire spectacularly if her new bodyguards had to fight to protect her. She sincerely hoped her truculent suitors, Baz and Ozar, had the sanity not to kill an honor guard of high-ranking officers from the Misted Cliffs and Harsdown—for that would be tantamount to an act of war against Cobalt the Dark.

T
wenty-four days after Cobalt's army left the Misted Cliffs, it flowed around Alzire, the capital of Shazire, like a flood swirling around rocks. As the companies spread across meadows vibrant with summer grasses and wildflowers, the three thousand men Cobalt had left in Shazire joined them.

Alzire was one of the largest cities in the settled lands, after Quaaz and the capital of Jazid. It boasted five thousand people. But even Alzire couldn't support such a big influx of warriors tramping about its streets and carousing in its taverns. The companies set up a rotating schedule, allowing smaller groups to visit the famous city, view its exquisite arches and bridges and soaring temples, and drink its ale. With the flood controlled, the army offered an economic cornucopia to the Alzire merchants, for the soldiers had wages to spend, and gold hexa-coins were worth just as much in Shazire as in the Misted Cliffs.

Mel rode into Alzire at Cobalt's side with Agate Cragland, Matthew and a retinue of officers. Cobalt sat on his huge black warhorse and wore his Chamberlight helmet. Its faceplate was open to let the sun strike his face, and its plume rippled. With his breastplate gleaming, his already broad shoulders widened even more by leather armor studded with metal, and his broadsword strapped across his back, he looked every inch the conquering warrior king.

Their horses clopped down cobblestone streets, and pedestrians jumped back. People watched from windows and roofs and alleys. Mel felt strange riding into the city this way. Her family had always maintained good relations with Prince Zerod, Shazire's former sovereign. At her urging, Cobalt had let Zerod and his family live, but he was keeping the queen and her young son under guard in their summer palace, to ensure Zerod's behavior. If nothing went wrong, he would soon let them rejoin the deposed prince in exile. Cobalt's year of truce with the atajazid had ended last spring, and all waited to see how he and Ozar would deal with each other.

Today Cobalt took Mel to the Hall of Oceans in the palace. He laid his hand on one of the two thrones inlaid with turquoise and mother-of-pearl. “It is yours.”

Mel thought of Zerod. “I cannot sit there.”

“You must, in spirit if not in body.”

“I will govern here as best I can while you go to Taka Mal. But I won't take that throne.”

Cobalt frowned. “It was yours long before Zerod's House stole it from the Misted Cliffs.”

She blinked. “Mine?”

“Thousands of years ago, a Dawn Star Empress ruled these lands, including what we now call the Misted Cliffs, Harsdown, Aronsdale, Blueshire, and Shazire.” Cobalt glared as if daring her to refute him. “It is the legend of your name—the field of stars left by the empress when she rose into the sky at her untimely death.” He stopped, seeming disconcerted by his own words. “I would much rather my queen sit on a throne than turn into dots of light.”

She smiled. “I promise not to turn into any dots.”

“Good.” He seemed satisfied, and she didn't think he even realized she was teasing him.

“Do you leave tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Before dawn.”

“I will miss you,” she said, which was true.

He hesitated. “Most people are glad when I am gone.”

She took his hand and held his knuckles against her cheek. “I would rather have you here.”

He drew her in, his arm around her waist, and pressed his lips against the top of her head. “Good.”

“I've been thinking,” she said, musing. “What shall we name our child?”

“Name?” He sounded confused again.

She held back her smile. “Most people have them.”

“I know that, Mel,” he growled. “But we don't know if it is a boy or a girl.”

“It has to be one or the other.” It bemused her that he could be such a brilliant military commander, yet find the simple domestic aspects of life bewildering. “Cobalt for a boy.”

“Ach! No. He could do better.”

“I like it.”

“Well.” He sounded pleased.

“Maybe Chord for a girl.”

“What, like
Rope?
”

She smiled at his outraged tone. “I meant a chord in music. But I see your point.”

“Not Stonebreaker.” His voice darkened. “Never Stonebreaker.”

Mel had no argument with that. She could still see, in her mind, the dying king on his deathbed, whispering to his grandson. “Cobalt?”

“Yes?”

“Don't let Stonebreaker follow you from his grave.”

His posture stiffened. “He follows me everywhere.”

“Whatever he said that night—” She paused, unsure how to continue.

For a while he was silent. Then he said, “Chamberlight raised me. Not Escar.”

“That's true.” She wondered what he was about.

“My grandfather hated me.”

“Cobalt, no.”

“Perhaps it is because I am not a true heir.”

“Of course you are!” She drew back to look up at him. “Just look at any picture of Varqelle. You have the same profile, same cheekbones, same hair, same eyes.”

He paused, his gaze intent on her face. He started to speak, then hesitated. Finally he said, “People often remark on how much I resemble him.”

“Because you do.” Mel shook her head. “If Stonebreaker said you weren't an Escar, he was lying. He tried to hurt you. To undermine your confidence.”

“Mel—” His face showed a vulnerability he let no one else see. “It is hard to hear my own voice instead of his.”

She brushed back a straggle of hair that had escaped his queue. Was this what had haunted him since Stonebreaker's death? It was no wonder he brooded, if his grandfather had claimed he was a bastard with no right to any throne. Stonebreaker couldn't really believe it; otherwise, he would never have made Cobalt his heir. She doubted he had mentioned Matthew, for she had seen no change in how Cobalt treated him, and she knew her husband too well to believe he would be so unaffected by such news. But for Stonebreaker to plant a seed of doubt that could grow and plague his successor: yes, it was a cruelty she could imagine from him.

“He has no power over you,” Mel said. “He is gone.”

“I try to remember that.” Cobalt seemed calmer. It was good. The more settled he felt, the less likely he was to let his torments drive him into battle. She had been fortunate in how he phrased his words:
Perhaps it is because I am not a true heir.
She could assure him without hesitation that he was of the House of Escar. He hadn't posed the crucial question, the one that would have forced her to silence or false assurances.

He hadn't asked if Varqelle was his father.

Breezes stirred Jade's hair, which she wore down today. She loved these hidden gardens, accessible only through guarded doors. They attached to the most cloistered rooms in the palace, the Sunset Suite, a place of gold and rubies, and exquisite landscapes painted on the walls. Her mother had lived in seclusion here during her marriage. Jade's ginger-maids kept these rooms spotless and gleaming, but they had been empty for years, since her mother's death. Empty, that was, until she gave them to Drummer.

Today she walked with him among a profusion of sun-snap bushes sculpted to resemble goldwings. Their scent gave the air a sweet fragrance with a dash of spice. The sunlight made his curls shimmer, and his face had regained its healthy glow.

“Sooner or later,” she said, “we will have to admit you are well enough to travel.”

“Later, I hope.” He strummed his glittar, and its notes sparkled like drops of water flying up from a waterfall. Jade wished he could stay here forever. Supposedly he was convalescing. She had to sneak in to see him, but fortunately no one else could come here. After a grueling session with the envoy negotiators, she had “reluctantly” agreed to let Harsdown and Chamberlight men guard this suite rather than her own officers. So none of her own people saw her visits. She and Fieldson were playing a dangerous game; if anyone found out he was helping her, the situation could explode with accusations of treason.

Jade knew the time had come for Drummer to leave. These past twenty days had been idyllic, a happier interlude than she could ever remember. If he left, she feared she might never see him again, that their plans would fall apart and violence would inflame the settled lands. If she married Ozar, she might become an empress, but she would rather have Drummer, happiness and peace.

He drew her over to a bench under a trellis heavy with yellow and red lilies. A vine-draped wall behind them curved around the bench, creating a living alcove. Within it, a fountain shaped like a lily burbled with water.

“I love it here,” he said as they sat on the bench.

Jade slid her fingers into his hair, which brushed his collar in an unruly mop. She hadn't been this relaxed since—well, since she didn't know when.

He caught her hand and planted a kiss in her palm. Then he settled the glittar in his lap and braced it against his chest. “I wrote you a song,” he said. “But I won't sing it unless you promise not to make fun of my poetry.”

“I'll try not to misbehave.” In truth, she loved listening to him sing. It was almost as much fun teasing him, though.

His grin flashed. “I didn't say you had to behave.” His fingers danced across the glittar strings and a trill of notes filled the air. He warmed up with a melody of nonsense syllables. He could sing both baritone and tenor, though he seemed most comfortable as a tenor. He slid into a song with a haunting, chantlike quality:

On the last word, he hit a high note and held it beautifully. Then he let it fade into the burble of the fountain. Jade didn't realize they were leaning closer until he brushed his lips across hers. Closing her eyes, she molded against him and her mouth softened. He sighed as he kissed her, and he ran his fingers over the glittar. He was touching the strings, not her, but it was as erotic as if he were strumming her body.

Finally he set down the harp and pulled her close against him. Times like this with Drummer were the only instances in her life when she let herself be soft. He was the first suitor she had trusted with her vulnerability, perhaps because his was as deep as hers. He seemed defenseless compared to the other men in her life, and it made her want to protect him with a visceral fierceness. Was this what her father had felt with her mother, why he locked her away and let so few people see her? Perhaps Jade had inherited more than his throne and his wild dark eyes.

After a while, Jade laid her head on his shoulder and stared out at the gardens beyond their bower.

“I wish I didn't have to go,” Drummer said.

“I also.” At least when he reached Suncroft, he and Fieldson would take her proposal to King Jarid. “If we receive the response we hope for from Jarid, I can announce the betrothal.”

“He better agree,” Drummer said.

“Fieldson thinks he will.”

He drew back, and she straightened up to look at him. “I will memorize your face,” he said. “Everything about you. The way you talk. And laugh.” His wicked grin sparked. “The way you growl and stalk when you don't get your way.”

She glared at him. “I never growl and stalk.”

“You do.” He kissed her again. “I've never met anyone with such passion, Jade. I love it.”

Her breath went still inside of her. “You do?”

For a moment he didn't seem to understand her reaction. Then his voice softened. “I do, beautiful queen. All of you.”

She traced her fingers along his lips. “And I you.”

He held her close and the day was sharp and clear. Yet it also felt like a dream that would fade just as the last note of his song had disappeared from her garden.