A Vow So Bold and Deadly (The Cursebreaker Series Book 3)
A Vow So Bold and Deadly: Chapter 9

When I used to imagine being queen, my dreams involved my people finding peace at last. I would rule with gentle firmness instead of my mother’s vicious brutality, and my subjects would thrive. No one would fear me. I never wanted to be feared. I thought my people would rejoice.

I never thought someone would be begging me to sever limbs right in the middle of my throne room.

“Your Majesty,” whispers Clanna Sun, the woman who used to be Mother’s chief advisor—who is now my chief advisor. “You will need to take some action.”

“You should cut his hands off,” growls the woman in front of me. Her name is Kallara, and she owns a small farm far to the north, right along the Frozen River. Her hands are gnarled and her skin is weathered from a lifetime of hard labor. “Even if an apple falls from the tree, it doesn’t make it free.”

“I didn’t steal an apple!” snaps the man, another landowner named Bayard. “I planted on my land.”

“It’s my land,” shouts Kallara.

“Mine!” he roars. His cheeks are red, his eyes bulging out with fury.

“Not surprising that a man lacks the intelligence to measure distance,” says Kallara. “Perhaps our wise queen will grant your lands to me, and I can put you to work in the fields where you belong.”

“I was in the fields where I belong!”

“Cut all their hands off,” Nolla Verin, my sister, mutters from her throne on my opposite side. Ellia Maya, another advisor who’s always been close to my sister, laughs under her breath. Nolla Verin flashes her a smile.

I sigh and glance at the window. Prince Grey is outside on the fields, Jake and Tycho by his side, overseeing the training of our soldiers. In the beginning, Grey would sit with me while I heard complaints from my subjects, but not everyone speaks the language of Emberfall, and he’s still learning Syssalah. It’s not a failing, but I’ve heard whispers about arrogance and ignorance, and I’m not sure which is worse. My people already question whether I am ruthless enough to rule following my mother’s death.

All of this is so much more complicated than I ever imagined.

At my side, Nolla Verin clears her throat emphatically.

I jerk my eyes away from the window and glance at Clanna Sun. “Whose land is it truly?”

“They both bear deeds showing ownership of the acreage, Your Majesty.”

Of course they do. I hold back another sigh.

“Forged, I’m sure,” sniffs Kallara.

“Enough.” They would never bicker like this in front of my mother. I glance across the room where the scribes take down every word we say. “Scribes,” I say. “Review the deeds for accuracy. Verify my mother’s seal.” I look at Kallara and Bayard. “We will meet again in a week’s time—”

“A week!” says Kallara. “Preposterous.”

“Her hands,” whispers Nolla Verin. “Take them off, sister.”

Ellia Maya steps forward. She has long dark hair that she keeps bound up in braids, and she carries herself like a soldier. She was an officer in the army before proving herself during the last battle in Emberfall, after which my mother granted her a position as an advisor. “A minor punishment would make others hesitate to contradict you.”

“Yes!” Nolla Verin smiles sweetly. “Perhaps just one hand, then?”

She sounds like she’s teasing, but I can hear an undercurrent of frustration. She would have cut their hands off already.

In all truth, Nolla Verin wouldn’t be allowing subjects to air their grievances at all.

A steward steps forward to take the deeds from the farmers. Bayard passes his over without hesitation, and he offers me a bow. “I appreciate your wisdom, Your Majesty.”

Kallara tightens her grip on the paper instead. “Your mother would never have questioned me.”

My mother would never have tolerated her. I actually doubt either of these people would have had the courage to bring this complaint to the Crystal Palace at all. Both Nolla Verin and Clanna Sun have mentioned that the number of people requesting mediation has increased tenfold.

In a way, it’s what I wanted. Less violence, less blood. Less death. Less fear.

In a way, it’s not.

“Release the deed,” I say to her tightly.

Kallara takes a step back. “This is ludicrous.” She rolls the paper into a tube. “Fine. Side with a man, then. I shouldn’t be surprised.” She spits at Bayard. “Fell siralla.”

“I did not side with a man,” I say. “I asked you to release your deed so I could fairly—”

She spits at me, then turns her back, striding for the door.

Beside me, Nolla Verin, Ellia Maya, and Clanna Sun all suck in a breath. The other subjects waiting their turn uncomfortably exchange glances.

My mother would have had Kallara executed right here. Or maybe not an execution at first. She would have had the guards disable her in some painful manner, then would have left the body bleeding on the stone floor, a warning to any others who would dare such insolence.

I can’t do that. I can’t.

Nolla Verin glances at me, and when I say nothing, she stands. “Guards!” she snaps. “Stop her.”

I whip my head around to glare at my sister. She shouldn’t be issuing orders for me. Two guards have peeled away from the wall anyway, and they’ve taken hold of Kallara by the arms. She’s spitting profanity at me now. Bayard is staring wide-eyed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” whispers Nolla Verin. “You must take action. You know you must.”

I look back at the guards. “Take the deed. We will determine the truth of whose land it is.”

“And cut out her tongue,” says Nolla Verin. “For spitting at the queen.”

“Wait. What? No!” I say, but the guard has already pulled a blade, and my words are lost in the sound of Kallara’s sudden screams of protest. Blood is spilling from the woman’s mouth down the front of her dress. Her screams devolve into keening, a garbled, wet sound. Her knees give way, but the guards keep her upright.

I’m frozen in place, my own breathing very shallow. At the base of the dais, Bayard has gone pale. I see several of the others shift and glance at the door, as if their complaints should possibly wait for another day.

I’m no stranger to this kind of violence, but it’s still upsetting. I don’t want it in my throne room. I don’t want it done on my sister’s order.

You must take action. You know you must.

I wish I’d had another minute. Another second.

But Kallara was leaving. She’d spit at me. She’d sworn at me. She’d refused an order.

And I didn’t do anything. My hands are trembling for so many reasons.

“Take her out of here,” I say, my voice low and tight, and the guards begin to drag her. I glance down at Bayard. “The lands are yours unless the deeds prove otherwise. Return in a week’s time for my judgment.”

“Yes.” His voice breaks a little. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He gives a hasty bow and shuffles backward.

I turn to look at Nolla Verin. “Don’t do that again.”

“Did you hear what she was saying? Someone had to do it.”

“I would have addressed it. You do not need to undermine me.”

“She was leaving. Were you going to send her a letter?”

The worst part of all of this is that my sister is right. I glance at the window again. On the training field, the soldiers have broken apart into sparring groups. I’ve lost sight of Grey and the others, which must mean they’ve joined the fighting.

I consider what Kallara just said before the guards took her ability to speak. Side with a man, then. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Mother never ruled with a man at her side, and I was raised with the belief that no queen needed a king in order to rule effectively. But Grey is the true heir to the throne of Emberfall, and ruling together could bring peace to both our kingdoms.

I never thought any of my subjects would see a man at my side as another brand of weakness.

I think of all the meetings where Grey hasn’t been invited. The dinners, the parties. The whispers about whether he will truly side with Syhl Shallow against his home country of Emberfall. The queries about whether I am strong enough to rule if I want a man on a throne next to me.

I don’t know if that means I should have Grey here for all of this—or if it’s better for him to be on the fields.

I know what Mother would think.

Some of the people waiting for an audience have filtered out.

It’s not because of me. It’s because of my sister.

I sigh and look at my remaining guards. “You will wait for my order before taking action. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Their words sound hollow. I don’t know how to fix that. Nolla Verin is murmuring with Ellia Maya now. I think they must be talking about me, but then the advisor nods and rises to leave the room. When my sister looks back at me, her expression isn’t repentant at all. She looks smug.

I have to fight to keep from scowling. Clanna Sun claps her hands. “Who is next? Bring forward the next issue.”

A girl in a long, dark cloak shuffles forward. She’s short, with broad shoulders, with a spill of lank auburn hair that hangs across half her face. She seems very young to be approaching the queen with an issue I am expected to solve, but maybe that’s the hesitancy of her steps. She seems to be trembling.

My heart softens. These are the subjects I want to help. The ones who would have been afraid to approach Mother.

“Come forward,” I say gently.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispers. She peeks up at me and eases all the way up to the dais. Her voice is so quiet, wavering a bit on the syllables. “I am truly grateful for an audience with you. I … I have brought you a gift.” Something made of glass glistens in the shadow of her cloak.

I hold out a hand. “Come,” I say again. “Have no fear.”

She takes hold of my hand and steps up onto the dais. Her fingers are tiny and trembling, her palm damp. Stone rings adorn her fingers. Her eyes flick to Nolla Verin and Clanna Sun, and she wets her lips.

“What can I do for you?” I say.

She withdraws her gift. It’s a crystal bottle, the neck wrapped in gold and red silk. She snaps her fingers, and the stones of her rings spark, catching the silk. A small flame erupts.

I suck in a breath and jerk back. A guard starts forward and I hold up a hand.

The girl smiles. The crystal sparkles under the flame, the silk disintegrating into sparks that fall at her feet. “Your gift, Your Majesty.”

I hesitate. It’s lovely, like a lamp with a wick on the outside.

“Magic,” she whispers, “will destroy you.”

Then she throws the bottle against the stones at my feet, and fire erupts around us.

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