9. Jess

Chapter 9

Jess

“ Y our Majesty, are you all right?”

I held up a hand to silence Dask as the Councilors exchanged confused glances.

“Jess, it’s Atikus.” The Mage’s baritone thrummed in my head. “Much has happened since we parted ways. Keelan is headed back to the cave with Dittler and can fill you in on the details. He should arrive in two weeks, possibly a day or two less.

“The Kingdom army besieged Saltstone. Your mother sent her armies to hunt the citizens of the capital who fled east with orders to slaughter every man, woman, and child. The Phoenix returned and struck down the Kingdom’s army. The Phoenix struck your mother down as well. Many died, but we estimate several thousand survived and are fleeing back toward the border. Saltstone is in ruins, but the people survived and now work to rebuild.

“I can only maintain this link a moment longer, so two important things: First, don’t blame your mother. Her consciousness was possessed by the Spirit of Empress Irina. I don’t believe she acted of her own free will. And second, please meet Keelan in the cave. Irina’s voice is no longer a threat to him—or you. He carries vital information for both our countries and is most eager to see you again.”

My brows furrowed at the last statement, and I thought I could hear Atikus grinning through the Telepathic link as he spoke. I started to turn back to the Council, each of whom now stared with undisguised concern, but Atikus spoke again.

“Jess, it was an honor to escort you for a time. You are a strong, brilliant young woman and will make a fine Queen. Believe in yourself and trust your heart. Both the Kingdom and Melucia count on you to be wise and true. When the time is right, we should meet to discuss how we might repair the damage done between our two nations. Until then, Spirits guide you, Your Majesty.”

When Atikus’s voice stilled, I stared across the table at Mage Ernest. “Mage Atikus Dani sends his regards.”

The table erupted in a flurry of gasps and questions.

“Gentlemen, please.” I waved them to silence, then summarized what Atikus had said, leaving out the part where I was supposed to leave the capital to meet Keelan.

Spirits, how did my tale become so strange?

“Did he mention the fate of Marks, Bril, or Thorn?” Bacras asked.

I shook my head. “No. He said I’d learn more soon but sounded exhausted by the end of the message.”

“It is remarkable he was able to send a Telepathic message that far at all. He must hold a powerful Gift,” Mage Ernest said more to himself than the others around the table.

“Did you say the spirit of Empress Irina returned and inhabited your mother ?” Minister Carver asked, incredulity punctuating his tone.

I had to gird myself before answering. “That is what he said. It fits with the ceremony my mother performed in the Children’s Temple. Queen Isabel was willing to kill her husband and both of her children. We did not understand their goal at the time, but returning the Empress makes as much sense as anything.”

An uneasy silence hung in the air for a long moment before Mage Ernest spoke.

“Majesty, we must turn our attention to the needs of your people. No doubt we lost many fathers and sons in the campaign across the border.”

The sincerity in the Mage’s voice caught me by surprise.

“Where do we even begin?” I muttered, the shell of my feigned confidence cracking before the daunting task of rebuilding a nation.

Dask leaned forward and placed a hand on mine, violating one of the most cherished courtly protocols by touching the monarch and earning more than a few glances from the others. “Jess . . . Your Majesty . . . your Council has far too many empty seats. Those sitting here cannot hope to repair the damage done without help. We need to rebuild this Council before we try to rebuild the Kingdom.”

I looked around the table as Dask’s hand retreated. The others were nodding their agreement.

“Fine. But I will not abandon General Marks or Minister Bril. They may yet live.”

“Majesty, forgive me, but General Marks and Minister Bril took part in the invasion. Is it wise to return them to the Council?” Foreign Minister Bacras asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

I was about to snap at the man and defend Uncle Ethan, but Ernest spoke first. “Minister, many followed the orders of their King and Queen. We may yet learn how they behaved honorably in the face of an impossible situation. Her Majesty is right to spare judgement until all the facts are known, especially for men who have served this Kingdom for decades.”

Bacras opened his mouth, as if to argue, but remained silent.

I leaned forward. “Minister of War and General of Armed Forces can wait for now. Thorn will not be my High Chancellor, so that is a good place to start. What other roles need filling?”

And so we began.

Names of nobles brought nods, jeers, and jabs as the Kingdom’s inner circle began forming a new government. For a few glorious moments, I forgot my fears and threw myself into the task at hand. Hours later, I noticed Minister Bacras staring openly at me, a broad grin spread across his usually placid face.

“Zumi, you look like you ate something odd. Out with it.”

The man laughed, a rich sound that felt like a blazing hearth on a winter’s day. “I was just enjoying watching Her Majesty work. She has amazed this skeptical old man and might just renew his weary spirit.”

I blushed at the compliment, then remembered myself and offered a nod of thanks.

Hours later, I made my way through the private passages within the Palace, headed toward my chamber. The day had been challenging, frightening, exhilarating, and a dozen other emotions I would likely relive in the midst of deep sleep.

All my life, I wanted to be taken seriously, to be seen as a competent, intelligent woman who would rule with wisdom. I couldn’t admit it at the time, but the derision—even pity—I’d seen in the Councilors’ eyes months earlier had stabbed at my heart.

But not now.

They actually listened to me.

I tried to remember the endless lessons of my father, allowing the Ministers to talk themselves to exhaustion before weighing in. He told me many times that educated men needed to make their point long before they would ever hear ours. To act otherwise was fruitless.

I grinned inwardly every time the conversation would lull. I spoke only then. All eyes snapped to the head of the table, as if mine was the most important voice in the room.

And then it sank in.

Mine was the most important voice in the room. I was Queen .

Events had moved so quickly since I returned that I barely had time to absorb the weight of the Crown I’d inherited. I felt it now. Its burdensome load. Its expectations. The millions of people it represented. Alone in a dim hallway, the immense responsibility that rested on my seventeen-year-old shoulders bore down. I feared I might crumble beneath its weight.

My skin turned clammy, and my heart raced.

I clawed at the choker strangling my neck, gasping, but air wouldn’t flow.

Sweat beaded on my brow.

Desperate to gather myself, I slipped into the first room I saw. As I closed the heavy wooden door behind me, I turned and found myself staring at Justin’s bed. My mother had barred servants from cleaning her children’s rooms to teach us responsibility, and several pairs of riding leathers still lay strewn about, as if he struggled to decide what to pack before leaving on the trip east with the army.

The trip to find me after I ran away.

My heart seized. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The scent of my younger brother flooded my senses.

I saw his lopsided grin, his perfectly coiffed hair that screamed for fingers to muss it.

I missed him so much.

“Little brother, what have I done? How am I going to get through all this without you?” I whispered. “So many people are counting on me now. I’m . . . so alone.”

I hugged myself, clutching my sides as tears fell.

Long moments passed before I wandered aimlessly around the room. I raised a white linen shirt to my nose, breathing in Justin’s scent, then clutched the garment to my heart. My fingers trailed across his desk as I found notes from his studies covered in random scribbles and tidbits he aimed to remember. The script adorning those pages had somehow become precious in his absence.

I reached to open an armoire, but a knock at the door interrupted.

“Jess? Are you in there, Jess?” the voice of my other brother—my only brother—floated through the door.

I sniffed and wiped my face with Justin’s shirt before realizing what I’d done, then clutched it to my chest once more.

“Yes.” I sucked in a calming breath. “Come in.”

Kendall pushed the door open, then bolted across the room and wrapped his spindly arms around me. “I missed you, Jessie. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” was all I could say as I fought another wave of emotion.

A moment later, Kendall looked up and asked, “When do you think Mom, Dad, and Justin will get back? They’ve been gone a long time.”

My voice caught as I realized no one had told the boy anything.

I pulled away from his hug and took his hand, leading him to sit on the bed beside me.

“Kendall,” I began, grasping for the words. “I . . . I need to tell you some things. They are going to be really hard, so I need you to be brave, okay?”

Kendall’s wide eyes, now tinged with fear, bobbed along with his head.

I struggled with how to tell an eleven-year-old such a grim tale but decided he deserved the truth. I began with my running away with Danym and our harrowing escape through the Spires. To his credit, Kendall listened and maintained a firm grip on his emotions—until I reached the part about the deaths of our father and brother. It broke my barely mended heart as I watched my young brother’s grief bloom across his face. I held him and tried to calm his quaking shoulders. His tears were infectious, and we held each other and wept until my maid knocked.

“Hello? Majesty, are you in there?”

How do they always know where I am? I thought as I rose, smoothed my gown, and walked to the door.

“What is it, Sarah?” I called, suppressing the tremor in my voice.

“Cook says a meal is prepared in the family room. Will you and the Prince be dining?”

I stroked Kendall’s hair as he shook, then kissed his forehead.

“We will be right out. Thank you, Sarah.”

There was a brief pause, then, “Of course, Majesty. Whatever you . . . and the Prince need.”

The sympathy in my maid’s voice nearly broke my brittle resolve, and I realized how challenging the coming days would be—and not just for those who lost family. The Palace staff worshiped my father, and my brother, Justin, was more beloved than any of us. Beyond that, many fathers and brothers were lost in my mother’s foolish campaign. Did Sarah have men in the army? Did my guards or cook or . . .

The staff would hide behind the mask of propriety, but their hearts would bleed for our Kingdom’s losses, for their losses, as deeply as mine.

As we settled into the private family dining room, I insisted Sarah join us. The idea of a maid sitting with the monarch at the family’s table frightened the poor woman to death; we were halfway through the second course before Sarah stopped shaking and began enjoying her meal.

Kendall refused to eat, claiming he wasn’t hungry, and begged to be left alone in his room.

For my part, I was glad for their company, such that it was. I could not bear to face the empty chairs around our family’s table alone.