Queen of Fire полностью

Reva suppressed a laugh. Always so keen to act the elder brother. “A task I’m hardly suited to, Highness. Although I have been meaning to ask for a clearer explanation of the intent behind Lord Vaelin’s current mission.”

“If secrets are kept, it is for a good reason. Suffice to say, the opportunities offered by his mission were too great to be ignored.” The queen paused, her smile slowly fading. “I have had occasion recently to read more detailed reports of events at Alltor. I hadn’t appreciated before how truly difficult the situation became, the extremes to which you were compelled.”

The Volarian’s face as he knelt at the block . . . No better than us . . . “Survival compels us to extremes, Highness.”

“Indeed. Words I should like you to remember when performing your task. This war is not yet won and the survival of our peoples requires victory, at any cost.” Her gaze was intent now, the flawless mask devoid of all humour. “You understand?”

At any cost. Looking into the queen’s unwavering gaze, Reva felt a sudden rush of recognition, her mind filling with another face she knew so well, one that had also often spoken in similar terms, usually in the moments before he beat her. “Perhaps if you could elaborate, Highness,” she said. “My task will be made easier with clear instruction.”

The queen’s gaze barely flickered. “The Varitai are to be captured only if opportunity arises. All Free Swords are to be killed.”

“And if they surrender?”

“Then killing them will be a simpler task.” The queen came forward, clasping her hands, her face now a picture of sisterly affection. “As you said, my lady, we came here to finish this.”

• • •

The Shield accompanied Reva back to the Marshal Smolen, one of the newly built monsters laden with her House Guard and a fifth of her archers. Ostensibly Ell-Nestra had come to oversee the landings though she sensed a sudden desire to remove himself from the queen’s company, perhaps due to the fate of the Volarian. Reva had been making ready to climb into her boat when she saw the man recoil from the queen, his sagging features suddenly white with shock. The queen stood regarding him with an expression of serene satisfaction as he launched himself at her, snarling, hands like claws as he reached for her throat. With practised swiftness the queen drew a dagger from her sleeve and drove it into the Volarian’s chest, a smooth unhesitant act performed before her guards could react.

“Throw this over the side,” she told Lord Iltis, accepting a cloth from Lady Murel and wiping the dagger clean as she turned away. However, the Volarian had somehow contrived to cling to life and continued to rage at her as the Lord Protector carried him to the rail, voicing shrill curses in his own language. The queen didn’t turn as he was cast into the ocean, striding towards Reva with the warmest farewell and good wishes for her venture.

“The man deserved his end, by all accounts,” she said to the Shield as they clambered from the boat, scaling the ropes to the ship’s deck. “Owner of countless slaves and a member of the Council that sent their army to invade the Realm.”

“She killed his son,” Ell-Nestra responded, his voice dull with grim understanding. “She wanted him to know before he died.”

“Our queen is fair, but her justice can be harsh.”

“She is your queen, my lady. My allegiance will end when this war is finally done.”

He strode off to find the ship’s captain whilst she briefed Lords Antesh and Arentes on the plan. “We are to be the vanguard of the army,” the guard commander said, stroking his moustache. “A singular honour.”

“And a singular risk,” Antesh pointed out, ever keen to advise caution in dealing with their monarch. During the march to Warnsclave Vaelin had related the full story of his previous association with her Lord of Archers, leaving her well aware of his once-fierce antipathy towards the entire notion of a Unified Realm. Although his fanaticism had clearly dissipated over the years he still retained a lingering suspicion of all things Asraelin, Queen Lyrna chief among them.

“We are a thousand miles from home facing a vile enemy,” Reva pointed out. “Every soul in this army shares the risk, my lord. Please relate the plan to your captains, we land in five days.” She was about to add the queen’s instruction regarding prisoners but found the words stalled in her breast. Her people needed little such instruction and were like to slaughter any Volarian in arms, but voicing an order condoning their bloodlust still felt wrong, reminding her once again that the Father had never related a single word on the subject of vengeance.

• • •