A Crown for Assassins

CHAPTER TWO

The Master of Crows watched his fleet with satisfaction as it sailed in to land on the northern coast of what had once been the Dowager’s kingdom. The invasion fleet was like a bloodstain on the water, the crows flying above in great flocks that seemed more like storm clouds.

Ahead lay a small fishing port, hardly a fitting start for his campaign, but after the time they’d spent at sea, it would be a welcome taste of things to come. The ships hung back, waiting for his signal, and the Master of Crows paused for a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all, the peace of the sunlit shore.

He waved a hand idly, and whispered, knowing that a hundred corvids would croak the words to his captains. “Let it begin.”

The ships started to move forward like the individual components of some beautiful machine of death, each one slotting into its allotted place as it moved toward the shore. The Master of Crows guessed that the captains would be vying to see who could perform their duties the most precisely, trying to please him with the obedience of their crews. They never seemed to learn that he cared about little except the death to follow.

“There will be death,” he murmured as one of his pets landed on his shoulder. “There will be enough death to drown the world.”

The crow cawed its agreement, as well it should. His creatures had been well fed in the last weeks, the deaths from the battle for Ashton still filling his coffers of power, even as fresh deaths flowed in from around the New Army’s empire every day.

“There will be more today,” he said with a grim smile as both soldiers and would-be soldiers lined up to defend their home on the shore.

Cannon sounded, the first shots echoing across the water, the crashes of their impact reverberating. Soon the air would be thick with smoke, so that he would be the only one able to see what was happening, thanks to his birds. Soon, his men would have to trust his orders absolutely.

“Tell the third company to swing wider,” he said to one of his aides. “It will prevent anyone from escaping up the coast.”

“Yes, my lord,” the young man replied.

“Have a landing boat prepared for me as well.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And remind the men of my orders: those who resist are to be killed without mercy.”

“Yes, my lord,” the aide said again.

As if the Master of Crows’ captains needed to be reminded. They knew his rules by now, his wishes. He sat on the deck of his flagship, watching cannonballs strike flesh, and men falling beneath the barrage of musket fire. Finally, he decided that the moment was ripe, and he made his way to the landing boat that was being lowered, checking his weapons as he went.

“Row,” he commanded the men there, and they strained against the oars, striving to get him to the shore along with his troops.

He held up a hand as his crows warned him, and the men stopped rowing in time for a ball shot from an aging cannon to strike the water in front of them.

“Continue.”

The landing boat slid through the waves, and, in spite of the overwhelming force of the New Army’s numbers, some of the waiting men leapt to attack it. The Master of Crows hopped onto the quay to meet them, his blades rising.

He thrust through the chest of one, then stepped aside as another swung at him. He parried a blow and cut another man down with the casual efficiency of long practice. It was so foolish of men like this to think that they could hope to defeat him, even hurt him. Only two people had managed that in a long while, and both Kate Danse and her detestable brother would die for that in time.

For now, this was not so much a fight as a slaughter, and the Master of Crows reveled in it. He hacked and he thrust, bringing down foes with every movement. When he saw a young woman trying to run, he paused to draw a pistol and shoot her in the back, then continued about his more pressing work.

“Please,” a man begged, throwing down his sword in surrender. The Master of Crows gutted him, then moved onto the next.

The slaughter was as inevitable as it was absolute. A scattering of badly armed militia couldn’t begin to hope to defend against this many foes. It was done so quickly that it was hard to imagine what they had been trying to achieve by standing at all. Presumably something to do with honor, or some other nonsense.

“Ah,” the Master of Crows said to himself as he looked through the eyes of one of his creatures and saw a knot of people fleeing into the nearby hills, heading south. He came back to himself and looked over to the nearest of his captains. “A group of villagers is fleeing along a trail not far from here. Take men and slaughter them all, please.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said. If the work of killing the innocent bothered him, he did not show it. But then, if he had been a man to balk at such things, the Master of Crows would have killed him for it long ago.

The Master of Crows stood in the wake of the battle, listening to the kind of quiet that only came with death. He listened to the crows as they landed to begin their work, and felt the power start to flow in as they consumed their share. It was a pitiful trickle compared to some of the battles that had gone before, but there would be more to follow.

He sent his awareness out into his creatures, letting them speak with his voice.

“This town is mine,” he said. “Submit or you will die. Deliver up all those who have magic, or you will die. Do as you are commanded, or you will die. You are nothing now, slaves and less than slaves. Obey, and you will stave off being food for the crows for a while. Disobey, and you will die.”

He sent his creatures up into the air, surveying the land that he had taken in this first advance. He could see the horizon stretched out far from him, with all the promise of more land to conquer, more deaths to feed his pets.

The Master of Crows did not normally receive visions. At best, his crows gave him enough to guess at what would happen. He was not the witch of the fountain, to pluck at the strands of the future, and even she had not been able to foresee her death. Now, though, the vision came rushing in to him, borne on the wings of his pets.

He saw a child, cradled in its mother’s arms, and he recognized the kingdom’s newly crowned queen instantly. He saw danger behind the child, and more than danger. The death he had staved off so long with the lives of others stalked in this babe’s shadow. It reached out for him, with the innocence of a child, and the Master of Crows recoiled from it, fleeing back to himself.

He stood there in the middle of the town he had taken, shaking his head.

“Is everything all right, my lord?” his aide asked.

“Yes,” the Master of Crows said, because if he admitted to weakness he would only have to kill the man. If any hint of the fear that rose within him got out, then all who saw would die. Yes, that was a thought…

“I have changed my mind,” he said. “We will save conquest for the next town. Raze this one. Kill every inhabitant, man, woman or… babe in arms. Leave no two stones together.”

The aide did not question that any more than his captain had questioned hunting down those fleeing.

“It will be as you command, my lord,” he promised.

The Master of Crows had no doubt that it would be. He commanded, and people died in response. If there was meant to be a child who was a threat to him… well, that child could die as well—along with its mother.

CHAPTER THREE

Emeline stood at the heart of Stonehome and tried to contain some of her frustration as she looked around the stone circle at all the inhabitants. Cora and Aidan stood beside her, which was some support, but when everyone else there was so set against them, it didn’t seem like enough.

“Sophia sent us to persuade you to come back to Ashton,” Emeline said, focusing on the spot where Asha and Vincente sat. How many times had she had this argument there now? It had taken all this time just to get to the point where they would discuss this together at the circle. “There was no need for you to return to Stonehome after the battle. She is building a kingdom where our kind are free, and have nothing to fear.”

“There is always something to fear while those who hate us exist,” Asha retorted. “She could have ordered the Masked Goddess’s churches shut down. She could have seen their butchers hanged for their crimes.”

“And that would have restarted the civil war,” Cora said from beside Emeline.

“Better to have a war than to live beside those who hate us,” Asha said. “Who have done such things to us as can never be forgiven.”

Vincente put it in more measured terms, but wasn’t much more helpful. “This is a place where we have built a community, Emeline. This is a place where we can be sure we are safe. I have no doubt that Sophia has good intentions, but that is not the same thing as being able to change things.”

Emeline had to fight back the urge to shout at them for their stupidity. Cora must have seen that, because she put a hand on Emeline’s arm.

“It will be fine,” she whispered. “They’ll see sense eventually.”

“What you call ‘sense,’” Asha snapped from the other side of the stone circle, “I call a betrayal of our people. We are safe here, not out in the world.”

Emeline shot her an angry glance. Asha couldn’t have heard Cora’s whisper from there, which meant that she’d read Cora’s mind. That was more than rude; it was dangerous, especially when Asha had been the one to teach Emeline how to pull memories out of someone.

“People are free to come and go if they wish,” Vincente said. “If Sophia really does deliver a kingdom where our kind are free, people will come of their own accord, without the need for emissaries.”

“And what will it look like until then?” Emeline replied. “What will it look like when all those with gifts are hidden away, as if they are ashamed of them? Will it look like we are no threat, or will it give people space to claim that we are plotting in secret? For the old rumors to reappear?”

The hardest part about the crowd around them was that it was impossible for Emeline to gauge what effect her words were having. With another crowd she could have reached out for the feel of their thoughts, or at least listened to them talking to one another. Here, the conversations were silent things of thoughts flickering back and forth, well directed enough that she wasn’t a part of it.

“Perhaps you have a point,” Vincente said.

“They do not,” Asha replied. “They are the ones who have made us less safe, by making it so that people know where we are.”

“We haven’t told anyone,” Cora said.

Asha snorted. “As if they couldn’t have taken it from your head. If you weren’t sent by the queen, I’d take every thought you have for that.”

“No,” Aidan said, putting a protective hand on Cora’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t.”

Vincente stood, his full height more than impressive enough to calm things. “That’s enough bickering. Asha, the new defenses will be more than enough to protect us, even if people find us. As for the rest of it… I suggest a seeing.”

“A seeing?” Emeline asked.

Vincente made a gesture that encompassed the crowd around them. “We join our minds together, and we see what will result from each action. It is not perfect, but it will help us to decide what we must do.”

The idea of joining her mind to so many others was a worrying one, but if it would give her a chance to persuade them, Emeline wasn’t going to hold back.

“All right,” she said. “How do we do it?”

Simply connect your mind to the others’, Vincente sent. They are waiting.

Emeline reached out with her gift, and now she could feel the minds of those around the circle waiting for her. They were open now in a way they had not been before. She took a breath and plunged in amongst them.

She was herself, and not herself, both an individual mote of thoughts and the larger cloud of them that drifted together. With so many of them in one place, there was power here that was more than one person could ever have possessed. That power drifted into focus, and Emeline felt Vincente’s hand guiding it with what she suspected was skill borne of long practice.

Concentrate on the future, he sent. On seeing what will happen if—

He didn’t get further than that, because in that moment, a vision overtook them with the force of a forest fire.

There was fire in the vision. It flickered over the rooftops of Ashton, consuming, destroying. Soldiers in ochre uniforms marched through the streets, killing as they went. Emeline heard women screaming from inside houses, saw men cut down as they fled in the streets. The vision seemed to float through the streets, barely giving them all enough time to take in the carnage as they headed for the palace.

Around them, the destruction of Ashton made Emeline ache to watch it. The slaughter was horrific, but strangely, the loss of the places that she’d grown up around was almost as bad. Seeing barges burn on the river made her think of the one she’d tried to escape the city on. Seeing the marketplace filled with corpses instead of stalls made her heart break.

They reached the palace, and the Master of Crows was waiting. There was no mistaking who he was, in his old-fashioned long coat and with his birds circling. Even in this image, the sight of him made Emeline shudder, but she couldn’t look away. She watched him marching through the palace, killing with such ease that it almost seemed inconsequential to him.

The image shifted, and he was standing on a balcony, a baby in his arms. Instinctively, Emeline knew that it was Sophia’s child. There was a shine to her that reminded her of Sophia’s thoughts, and Emeline wanted to reach out to protect the child.

There was nothing she could do here, though, except watch as the Master of Crows lifted the baby, as he held her above his head. As the crows came down to feed…

Emeline gasped as she snapped back into her body, her heart racing. Around the circle, she could see other people looking up, stunned or shaken. She knew they’d seen all the same things that she’d seen. That had been the point of it.

“We have to help them,” Emeline said, as soon as she had enough breath to do it.

“What?” Cora asked. “What’s happening?”

“The Master of Crows is going to burn Ashton,” Emeline said. “He’s going to kill Sophia’s baby. We saw it in a vision.”

Instantly, Cora’s expression was set. “Then we have to stop him.” Emeline saw her look around the circle of people. “We have to stop him.”

“You want more of our people to die for you?” Asha demanded, from the far side of the circle. “Didn’t enough fall just to give your friend the throne?”

“I have heard of this man,” Vincente said. “To go against him would be dangerous. It is too much to ask.”

“Too much to ask that you help save a child?” Emeline demanded, hearing her voice rise.

“Not our child,” Asha said.

Around them, the circle buzzed with thoughts. That only annoyed Emeline more, because it reminded her of just how much power there was in Stonehome.

“Not yours?” Emeline countered. “She will be the heir to the throne. If you ever want this to be your kingdom rather than a place you hide from, she’s your responsibility as much as anyone else’s.”

Vincente shook his head. “What would you have us do? We cannot fight the whole of the New Army in Ashton.”

“Then bring the child here,” Emeline replied. “Bring everyone here. Ashton might fall, but this is a safe place. It was designed to be safe. You said yourself that there were new defenses.”

“Defenses for us,” Asha replied. “Walls of power that take great effort to maintain. Should we protect a city’s worth of people who cannot contribute to that? Who have always hated us?”

Cora spoke up then. “When I came here, I was told that Stonehome was a place of safety for anyone who needed it, not just those with magic. Was that a lie?”

Silence greeted her words, and Emeline could guess what the answer would be even before Vincente gave it.

“You forced us into one fight,” he said. “We will not willingly choose another. We will let this pass, and we will rise from the ashes. We cannot help you.”

“Will not,” Emeline corrected him. “And if you won’t, then I’ll do it myself.”

“We will,” Cora said.

Emeline nodded. “If you won’t help, then we’ll go to Ashton. We’ll see Sophia’s baby safe.”

“You’ll die,” Asha said. “You think you can go up against an army?”

Emeline shrugged. “Do you think I care?”

“This is madness,” Asha said. “We should stop you leaving for your own safety.”

Emeline narrowed her eyes. “Do you think you could?”

Without waiting for an answer, she stood and left the circle. There was no point in debating any longer, and every moment they waited was another in which Sophia’s baby was in danger.

They had to get to Ashton.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sophia hadn’t been able to talk anyone out of a lavish wedding party, even though it sounded like the kind of thing that the nobles before her might have thrown. Looking around the lawn of the palace, though, she was grateful that she hadn’t been able to call it off. Seeing so many people there, feeling their enjoyment, only made her buzz with happiness.

“There are a lot of people who want to congratulate us,” Sebastian said, his arm around her.

“They do know that I’ll know if they mean it, right?” Sophia replied. She rubbed her lower back. There was a deep ache there that made her want to sit down, but she also wanted to be able to dance with Sebastian, just a little.

“They mean it,” Sebastian said. He gestured to where some of the noblewomen of the court were standing, or dancing along to the music of strings and pipes. “Even they’re happy for you. I think they like living in a court where they don’t have to pretend all the time.”

“They’re happy for us,” Sophia corrected him. She took his hand, leading him out onto the patch of lawn that was serving as a dance floor. She let Sebastian take her in his arms, the musicians at the side taking their cue from the two of them and slowing the pace of the dance a little.

Around them, people whirled together, far more energetically than Sophia could manage right now. The ache from her back had spread to her belly now, and she took that as her moment to step back from the dance. Two chairs, two thrones, had been set up by the side of the lawn for her and Sebastian. Sophia took hers gladly, and Sienne ran up to curl at her feet.

“It reminds me a little of the dance where we first met,” she said.

“There are differences,” Sebastian said. “Fewer masks, for one thing.”

“I prefer it like that,” Sophia said. “People shouldn’t feel that they have to hide who they are just to have fun.”

There were other differences too. There were ordinary people here as well as nobles, a clutch of merchants talking off to one side, a weaver’s daughter dancing with a soldier. There were people there who had been indentured once, now free to join in the festivities rather than having to serve there. Several girls Sophia recognized from the House of the Unclaimed were off to one side, looking happier than they ever had there.

“Your majesties,” a man said, approaching them and bowing low. His red and gold robe seemed to shine against the darkness of his skin, while his eyes were so pale they were almost lavender. “I am High Merchant N’ka of the Kingdom of Morgassa. His glorious majesty sends greetings on the occasion of your wedding, and has bid me to travel here to discuss trade with your kingdom.”

“We’d be happy to talk about it,” Sophia said. The merchant started to say something, and a look at his thoughts suggested that he was planning to negotiate an entire treaty right then and there. “After my wedding day, though?”

“Of course, your majesty. I will be in Ashton for some time.”

“For now, enjoy the celebrations,” Sophia suggested.

The merchant offered a deep bow and slipped back into the crowd. As if his approach had given permission to everyone else, a dozen more people came forward, from nobles seeking advancement to merchants with goods to sell and common folk who had grievances. Each time, Sophia said the same thing she’d said to the merchant, hoping that it would be enough, and that they would enjoy the rest of the evening.

One person who didn’t seem to be enjoying the festivities quite so much was Lucas. He was standing in a corner with a goblet of wine, surrounded by an assortment of pretty young noblewomen, and still there was no smile on his face.

Is everything all right? Sophia sent over to him.

Lucas smiled in her direction, then spread his hands. I am happy for you and Kate, but it seems that every woman here has taken that as an indication that I should be married next, and to them.

Well, you never know, Sophia sent back, perhaps one of them will turn out to be perfect for you.

Perhaps, Lucas sent, although he didn’t feel remotely convinced.

Don’t worry, we’ll be trekking after our parents across dangerous terrain soon enough, Sophia promised, and you won’t have to deal with the scary business of royal celebrations.

In answer to that, Lucas said something to one of the women near him, extending a hand and leading her out onto the dance floor. Of course, he did it perfectly, dancing with the kind of elegance and grace that probably came from years of instruction. Official Ko, the man who had raised him, would have seen him trained in that as carefully as in everything else.

Kate and Will were already there, although they seemed to be so wrapped up in one another that they were mostly ignoring the music. It probably didn’t help that her sister was better with a sword than she was at dancing, while Sophia doubted that Will knew many formal court dances. The two of them seemed happy enough just in one another’s arms, whispering to one another and occasionally kissing. Sophia wasn’t entirely surprised when they slipped off together in the direction of the palace while no one else was looking, doing it so smoothly that Sophia doubted anyone else even noticed.

A part of her wished that she and Sebastian could do the same; this was their wedding night, after all. Unfortunately, while the new head of the army might be able to avoid people’s attention for a while, Sophia suspected that they might notice if their queen and king left the party early. The best thing was to enjoy the moment while it was there, accepting that all these people had come here because they wanted to wish her and Sebastian the best.

Sophia stood again, heading over to one of the tables where food was laid out on great platters that could have fed hundreds more. She started to pick through the partridge and the roast boar, the sugared dates and the other delights that she could never have imagined when she was a child in the House of the Unclaimed.

“You know that you could have a servant bring you food?” Sebastian said, although he did it with a smile that told Sophia he already knew what her answer would be.

“It still feels strange commanding people to do things for me that I could do for myself,” she said.

“As the queen, I’d say you should get used to it,” Sebastian said, “except I think that it’s probably good that you aren’t. Maybe the whole kingdom would be better if people remembered what it’s like not to be the one giving orders.”

“Maybe,” Sophia agreed. She could see people watching them now, and a quick look at the thoughts of those around them told her they were expecting her to speak. She hadn’t planned for that, but even so, she knew she couldn’t disappoint them.

“My friends,” she said, picking up a glass of cool apple juice. “Thank you all for coming to this celebration. It’s good to see so many people whom Sebastian and I know and love, and so many more of you I hope we will have the chance to know in the days to come. This day couldn’t have happened without all of you. Without friends, without help, Sebastian and I would probably have been killed many weeks ago. We wouldn’t have each other, or this kingdom. We wouldn’t have the chance to make things better. To all of you.”

She lifted her glass in a toast that the others there quickly took up. On impulse, she turned and kissed Sebastian. That got cheers that roared around the gardens, and Sophia decided that they wouldn’t have to sneak off like Kate and Will; if they announced that they were going, people would probably carry them back to their rooms. Perhaps they should try it. Perhaps—

She felt the first spasms deep inside her, her muscles contracting with such force that it almost bent Sophia double. She let out a deep groan of pain that left her struggling to breathe.

“Sophia?” Sebastian said. “What is it? Are you all right?”

Sophia couldn’t answer. She could barely stand as a fresh contraction of her muscles hit her so hard that she cried out with it. Around her, the crowd murmured, some obviously looking concerned as the music ground to a halt.

“Is it poison?”

“Is she ill?”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s obvious…”

Sophia felt wetness run down her legs as her water broke. After so much time waiting, now it seemed as though everything was determined to happen far too fast.

“I think… I think the baby’s coming,” she said.