31. Jess

Chapter 31

Jess

“ Y our Majesty.” Ethan bowed. “The last of our troops has returned. Of the eighty thousand we assembled, ten thousand bogged down in the mountains and never made it into the theater. Their units were composed of newer recruits and archers. I have posted them at Huntcliff to guard the border and continue their training.”

I strummed my fingers against the arm of my throne, waiting for the bad news.

“Of the remaining seventy thousand, only twenty-two thousand have been accounted for. Of those, six thousand are wounded. We believe others will report over the coming months but expect no more than a few hundred. The rest either died, remained in Melucia, or returned to their homes upon crossing back into the Kingdom.”

“What about machinery? Siege equipment and transports?”

Ethan’s brow rose.

Had he not expected me to ask thoughtful questions? To understand the basic math and mechanics of warfare?

I tried not to be insulted. There was pride in his eyes.

Still, that surprise was his first reaction made my fingers strum harder against the armrest.

“Carts and carriages accompanying the ten thousand at Huntcliff survived with only minor, weather-related damage. Roughly one-fifth of our carts and other transports returned with surviving troops. All our siege engines, heavy ladders, rams, and other machinery were lost.”

“All of them?”

He nodded.

“What about the navy?”

“Our fleet is intact. Few Melucian port towns possessed ballistae, and their ships were a collection of merchant vessels, so we encountered no resistance. I have recalled our ships to their home ports.”

“Well, that is a rose amid the thorns, I suppose.” I sat back and pressed fingers into the bridge of my nose. “General, by my math, we now have a functioning navy with a dozen well-armed ships and twenty-five thousand able-bodied men in our army, ten thousand of whom are green recruits stationed at the far end of the Kingdom with another six thousand injured. We have no heavy equipment, and only a small fraction of our land transports used to feed and supply our troops remain. Does that about sum it up?”

“Yes, Majesty, give or take a thousand men.”

I turned my gaze to the man standing to Ethan’s right. The golden badge of the High Sheriff’s office glittered on his breast. I had only pinned it on the man an hour earlier.

“High Sheriff, what of our Constables? Surely, many joined the army and were lost. Are our cities secure? Is the capital?”

Bryan Cribbs, the new High Sheriff, bowed.

His unruly brown hair flopped as his head lowered, forcing him to flick it back into place as he rose. Curls flew in every direction. If the topic hadn’t been so serious, I would have laughed at the spectacle. Despite the man’s unkempt mane, his dozen years of service to the Crown had proved him an effective and loyal lawman. Of the eternal list of appointments pending my attention, High Sheriff had been the easiest. Cribbs was a good man and would make an even better Sheriff.

“Majesty, our ranks are thin but holding. Most of the losses to the army came from smaller towns and villages, so the capital and larger cities remain secure.” Cribbs’s eyes fell.

“What is it, Sheriff? What are you not telling me?”

“Well, Your Majesty, it’s just—”

“Spit it out. It is just the three of us.”

Cribbs looked back up. “I’ve received reports of . . . disturbances in a couple of our port cities.”

“Disturbances?” I leaned forward.

“Nothing violent, Majesty.” He fidgeted with his badge of office like some child standing before his teacher. “Priests of a new faith are entering the towns. They’re ministering to the poor, feeding the hungry, that sort of thing.”

“I am sorry, Sheriff, I do not follow. What is bad about any of that?”

“It’s not their good works that bother me. It’s what they’re preaching.” He locked eyes with me for the first time. “They are openly prophesying the return of the One. The One traditionally refers to Empress Irina, or some fictionalized version of her, but these clerics speak of the earthly return of some prophet or mystic god who will unite the continent’s people under one faith—and one banner .”

Ethan’s head snapped up. “ One banner ? Are they talking about their god replacing the Throne? Or the Queen being subservient to their faith’s leader?”

“That is what we fear, but they talk in circles. When pressed, they go back to discussing good works and encouraging the people to take care of their brothers and sisters, that sort of thing. I am not even sure the people know what they mean by their veiled political references, but they are gaining followers through their ministry. Our agents fear they are building toward something; we just don’t know what.”

I thought a moment. “What are they calling themselves?”

“The men and women are called Priests, and their faith is referred to as the Order. It is similar to old tales of Irina’s return and the insanity preached by the Children, but their Priests actually call Irina a ‘false prophet’ and blame her—along with King Alfred and Queen Isabel—for the disaster in Melucia.”

“They blame my father ? He never wanted war. That was all my mother’s doing. Her and Thorn.”

He nodded and cast an uneasy glance toward Ethan. “The reports are confusing and still a bit new, but I thought you should know everything as we learn it.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. Keep an eye on this group and update me regularly.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Cribbs said. He bowed again, took two steps backward, then wheeled and exited.

Ethan relaxed as soon as the doors closed. “I think he’s a fine appointment. You did well.”

“We will see.” I stood and stretched. “What do you make of that Order talk? With all of the wounded returning, the people need a little extra help these days. It all sounds harmless to me, save the part where they throw my parents in front of the cart.”

“Theology was never my strong suit, though many soldiers turn to the Spirits in the heat of battle. I suppose any group offering food to our hungry in the dead of winter is welcome, but the whole part about ‘the One’ and putting their religious leader above monarchs and rulers walks a dangerous path. We need to learn more about their true purpose.”

“And that is why I asked you to join these meetings today.” I turned and strode to the Council table, then seated myself at its head in the High Chancellor’s chair. Ethan took the hint and followed, taking the seat closest to me.

“So, Uncle Ethan—”

“You know, little Jess , you only call me that when you want something.” The corners of his mouth quirked into an easy grin.

“You think you know me,” I said with mock offense, then turned serious. “It seems I have several openings at this table.”

“I wondered when we’d have this conversation. With the loss of Bril, War makes sense. What were you thinking?”

“There are others who can do a fine job at War. I need a High Chancellor I trust completely. Unless you know someone more qualified, someone who earned my family’s trust over the years, I would like you to fill this chair.”

Ethan’s eyes popped wide.

He looked away and stared at some distant point in the corner of the chamber. After several moments, he still remained silent.

“Well?”

“Jess— Your Majesty —I have very little experience in diplomacy or dealing with nobles. You need someone polished in the art of kissing backsides. I’d be more likely to incite a revolt than quell one if I had to listen to those howling jackals all day.”

I leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I can deal with the nobles. I need someone to watch my back, to question everything and everyone , to be my eyes and ears throughout the Kingdom. I need someone I can count on when everyone else turns away. You are the only one I trust completely.” My voice faltered. “With my father and brother gone—Spirits, with my mother gone, too—there is no one left.”

Ethan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

His hand reached up and tugged at his collar.

“If my Queen commands—”

“No,” I interrupted sternly, then softened. “Uncle Ethan, this is Jess asking, not your Queen. You have given your life to this nation. I will not command you to serve more than you already have.”

He stared into my eyes, then lowered his head and whispered. “I would do anything for you, Jess. Of course I will protect you and your throne in whatever way you need me.”

I schooled my expression, straightened my back, and extended my hand toward him. “Thank you, High Chancellor.”

Ever the dutiful soldier, Ethan dropped from his chair to one knee, bowed his head, and kissed the proffered signet.

“Thank you , Your Majesty.”

A few days later, as I was setting my crown onto its velvet cushion beside the throne, ready to change out of my formal audience attire before dinner with Kendall, a page’s head poked between the cracked double doors.

“Your Majesty, the High Sheriff is asking to speak with you.”

Ethan and I shared a look.

Sheriff Cribbs had not returned to the Palace since accepting his office.

“Send him in,” I said, adjusting the crown on its pillow, then turning to stand before my throne. Ethan stepped to the bottom stair on my right and faced the doors.

A harried-looking High Sheriff scurried across the long chamber and bowed before his Queen, his unruly curls as winsome as ever.

He eyed the crown. “Majesty, thank you for seeing me. I will not take long, as I am sure your day was long.”

I waved a hand as I had seen my father do a thousand times. “Sheriff, our duty never rests. What brings you to the Palace?”

Cribbs locked eyes with Ethan for a moment, then looked toward me. I raised a brow at the interaction but said nothing.

“Majesty, there was a murder in the eastern quarter last night. The victim was a shopkeeper who sells pottery near the Temple. No one of prominence.”

When Cribbs didn’t continue, Ethan spoke. “And? Murders are rare, but they do happen, even in the capital.”

“Yes, Chancellor, that is true, but two things concern me. First, the man was killed behind his shop in a densely populated area of town where he could only have been alone for a few moments. And . . . his body was mutilated.”

“What do you mean? How so?” Ethan asked.

“It looks as though some wild animal attacked him. Massive rends across his chest and stomach appear to have been made by claws of some kind, and his face—it is barely recognizable.”

I covered my mouth with a hand.

“The eastern quarter abuts the Spires. Is it unusual for wild beasts to wander down in winter, seeking food?” Ethan asked.

“No, of course not. We see bears and wolves on occasion, but they are rarely bold enough to attack. There are so many people packed into the capital these days that most wildlife is too afraid to venture close.”

“You said there were two things that bothered you. What is the second?” I asked, impatient to be done with the day.

Cribbs looked to Ethan. “This is the third killing in three weeks that appeared to have been committed by wildlife. The other two occurred in Oliver and Featherstone.”

“Oliver? I could understand Spoke. It sits on the eastern base of the Spires, but Oliver is a port town with nothing but fields at its back,” Ethan said, scratching his stubbly chin.

“It gets stranger.” Cribbs nodded. “The victim in Spoke appeared to be mauled by a wolf or some other smaller predator. In Oliver—I hardly know how to believe the description. Constables there report the man appeared to have wounds consistent with a bear . There were wide gashes across his chest and arms. Worse, whatever attacked him did not stop when he was down. It continued tearing at his flesh, his face in particular, until he was barely recognizable. Equally odd—and forgive this, Majesty—in neither attack was the victim . . . well . . . eaten.”

“Eaten? Right.” The color drained from my face as images flashed in my mind. I stepped backward and sat on the throne, my mind reeling. “Three attacks, all completely different. Spread out across the country. Coincidence?”

“If there were two, I suppose they could be. But three? That is a pattern, even though there is no obvious connection between the attacks.”

“What about the victims? Were there any similarities?” Ethan asked.

Cribbs shook his head. “None that I’ve put together—a shopkeeper, a weaver, and an innkeeper—none were prominent or wealthy, ordinary in every way.”

“All right, thank you, Sheriff. Is there anything else?” I asked.

“That is everything we have so far. I will keep you informed as we piece the details together. This may be nothing more than morbid coincidence, but I thought you would want to know about it before the papers piece things together.”

“Thank you. Please keep us informed.” I rose.

“Sheriff, wait a moment.” Ethan stopped the man mid-bow. “Your Majesty, you have one of the most prominent investigators on the continent as a guest in the Palace. Do you think he might like something to do with his time?”

I tilted my head. “There is an interesting idea. I think he would love a new challenge. He has tired of the noble ladies nipping at his heels around every turn.”

Ethan chuckled.

“Majesty? I’m not following,” the Sheriff said.

“Forgive me, Sheriff. I would like a fresh set of eyes on this situation. Unless you object, I will ask Guardsman-Lieutenant Rea to assist with your investigation.”

The Sheriff was quiet a moment, then nodded. “I think that’s a fine idea, Majesty. We can use all the help we can get.”

“Excellent. I will speak with him this evening. Thank you, Sheriff.”

Cribbs bowed again, then backed out of the room.

“What do you make of all that?” I asked as we strode to the side door toward the residence wing.

“Hopefully, it’s nothing more than an overcautious lawman with three coincidental deaths. But we’ll see.” Ethan bobbed his head. “Rest well, Your Majesty.”

“Good night, High Chancellor.”