Magali stood at the ramparts and tried to even out her breathing. It was a clear day with just enough coolness to truly be called autumn; the sky was a light, bright blue that glowed through her closed eyelids. A touch of wind skittered across the castle's roof, lifting the wisps that escaped her severe braid for just a moment before it was gone.
Her hands gripped the stone wall tight enough to be painful, but no one would know by looking at the Queen of Solangia how much it hurt her. Her face was perfectly calm.
Aiden watched her with a guarded expression, not daring to speak first. He'd acted far more subdued toward her ever since their first meeting ended, and she was pleased by the change. The stress of staging the deaths of Dahra and those guards had been worth it, if only to teach her new Advisor of Magic a lesson in respect.
When she felt ready, she opened her eyes. It had been a hard morning. No one understood yet exactly how she wanted to rule; she had to teach them all from scratch. Meanwhile nobles scrabbled for her favor and her father's advisors struggled to adapt to the change.
At this point in her reign, she would settle for getting them to understand that the day to day issues a ruler would settle could still go to her father. It was anything important, and most especially anything to do with the rebels or the Guardians, that came to her.
Everyone seemed to want to do it the other way around — to ask her to settle the question of whether to accept Englescroft's newest pick of ambassador, or which holidays the castle would hold public feasts for, while asking her father what to do about the newest rebel attack or news of whether they'd returned from Emorial. So again and again she rudely pushed irrelevant question to her father, who sat, much subdued, at her side during council meetings, and turned a cold glare to any nobles who tried to address important matters to him instead of her. Slowly they were coming to realize that it was the new queen who decided which of them could ask favors of the crown, and that she did not look kindly at anyone who did not take her seriously.
But the change would not happen overnight. She understood that well enough, it was just frustrating to work through. Hence the walk on the ramparts to clear her head. There was also the added benefit of meeting with Aiden away from the rest of the castle to minimize the chances of eavesdropping. Having Caer for a friend made one particularly suspicious of eavesdroppers.
She'd given Aiden Tobias's old rooms — including the Sage's study and everything in it — but the former rebel knew he was not to socialize with the inhabitants of the castle as if he belonged there. Having Tobias's rooms was a simple necessity so he could access the Sage's old notes from when the two had worked together, years ago, on ways to enhance or minimize Guardian magic, and use it to continue his own work on the fire glass.
"Well?" she asked, finally moving from her position. She noticed the texture of the rough granite wall pressed into her skin as she crossed her arms. "What progress have you made?"
"My Queen, I don't think it's possible to make a long distance weapon out of the fire glass. Remember, at the most basic level my design is just a modification of an identification orb, which recognizes a person's magic by comparing the magic in the person with the sample embedded in the orb. And identification orbs have never been made to work without physically touching a person's skin."
She eyed him with displeasure. "Aren't you mages always talking about how anything's possible with enough belief in the concept?"
He tried, but mostly failed, to hide his pained expression. "It is the prevailing theory of modern mages that the human's race's perception of how magic should work defines how it works in reality. The theory does explain why magic workings definitively recorded in history no longer work, and even the minor differences in how magic is practiced across the continent. However, one must always keep in mind that without extremely detailed records of magic, which do not exist from before about two hundred years ago, the theory cannot be proved. Furthermore, the theory demands in the first place that a very large population share a perception before magic as an entity will bend to—"
Magali had been shaking her head for the last half of his speech, but when it became clear he was too far into his scholarly mind to pay attention to that, she held up her hand to halt him. "That's enough. I understand. You are not skilled enough to make it into arrows for bows. As for making copies?"
"It is tedious work. If I could call for a few apprentices from the university—"
"This information is not to be shared. I will not let the secret of how to kill Guardians without consequences spread any further than those who already know and leave my Heirs with compromised Guardians." It pained her to think that her father had had proper Guardians, and her child would one day, yet she would never have that. But it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself, time to stop mourning what she'd never truly had.
One day they would tell the story of the queen who saved her country without her Guardians' help. And maybe then Solangia would stop seeing the achievements of the Guardians as proof of their monarch's power, and start to judge the one who sat on the throne by their own strength. Because by that measure, her father had always been weak, but she would be a queen for the legends.
She straightened her shoulders. "Remember, Aiden. You won't get your personal kingdom if you don't serve me well. I want as many fire orbs as I have personal guards."
He looked exhausted by the very idea. "Yes, my Queen. I will need access to the right materials. I don't have enough in my personal collection, though Tobias may have had some hidden in his office."
"You will have whatever you need, regardless of expense."
"It's not expense that's the problem, just the rarity of the material." His eyes flicked to her crown. "But with your permission, it will be no trouble."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Assembly's domed ceiling full of light and its floor of geometric shapes in alternating colors of marble would have been impressive if I had time to be impressed. But with the changes I had in mind, I knew it was best to act quickly.
It was clear from the tired way the representatives looked at our group that Ari was right. They couldn't afford to take on our case now. The alliance wasn't going to work. We were going to need something that was lower-commitment on their end, and cleverer on ours.
They had already started the session by the time I got inside, thinking furiously. Ari's news about the Assembly's preoccupation with the monarchial-leaning Protectorate wasn't the only thing inspiring me. She'd provided another piece of the puzzle the other day, with her book of Guardian legends. But that would come later. All I had to have ready now was the part Emorial had to play in my new plan.
The Assembly was set up in rows of desks in concentric circles, with space clear at the center for speakers. Cyrus currently held that spot, sweeping his hands grandiosely as he spoke. The rebels sat nearby on the opposite side from the entrance. Dell could see me walk in from her seat, and must have been able to tell from one look that I had no intention of walking around the speaker's circle because she began to gesture frantically as soon as she saw me. I waved at her and walked right into the speaker's circle.
"Hey Cyrus, sorry, I need you for a moment."
He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me. I tried to tug him inconspicuously toward the rebels, but he held his ground and found his voice. "Laerhart, now is not the time."
"Unfortunately, now is the time my knowledge, current events and destiny have conspired to intersect at, so I need you to listen to my plan and approve it so we can tell the Assembly."
From the look on his face, he might have been choking. Since I hadn't kept my voice down, I was getting more than a few strange looks from around the room as well.
One representative stood up, that Liora Chanson who had welcomed us to Emorial. Her lips were pursed in an already-familiar skeptical expression. "Is there a problem, Cyrus?"
Some of the representatives in the back, who I suspected didn't speak much Solangian and had been mostly ignoring us or dozing off, were starting to pay attention to the interruptions.
Cyrus shook his head very quickly. I stepped in front of him. "We need a moment to discuss, please. Some news has altered our original plans for an alliance."
"No, it has not!" Cyrus interjected. I stomped on his foot as unobtrusively as I could.
"Yes, it has. You'll want to know, I think, that Princess Magali is now the Queen of Solangia."
Chanson looked suitably surprised, but Cyrus was only scowling at me and edging away. "We already knew that," he hissed. "You told me to speed negotiations up in response, and I'm already doing that."
I wished Chanson didn't understand Solangian so well, so I could speak easier to Cyrus without her knowing. I had to settle for laying on the thickest Maenarian accent I could, in the hopes that it would throw her off, and quietly telling him, "That's just the news I'm telling them. The real news to us is that they're not going to agree to the alliance. They have too many problems of their own. We need to alter our approach."
"And your new approach is breaches of etiquette?" he squawked.
Chanson had shifted to speaking in rapid Emorian, evidently to transmit the news of Magali's coronation to the other representatives. Now she turned back to us. "What does this change?"
"Your honor, we don't have time to hammer out an alliance. We'd settle for less."
Cyrus opened his mouth, probably to make some more indignant, bird-like noises, so I spoke even faster and louder to get ahead of him.
"Don't bother with agreements over trade or military help. We can talk about that once we control Solangia. All we need now are the right tools to dismantle the monarchy. Give us as many pistols as you can spare. We can pay for them once we control the royal treasury. And when that time comes, you have our word that you'll have payment and an ally if you need help keeping the Protectorate."
There was a long quiet, then Chanson turned and translated for the assembly who couldn't understand. Cyrus took the chance to gape at me, getting redder and redder.
Finally, Chanson sat down at her desk, slid a clean sheet of paper from her stack, and dipped her pen in ink. "Do your people agree you speak for them?"
"I am a Guardian of Solangia. They can't disagree that I know best."
From the squeaking noises Cyrus was making, he could disagree but knew better than to try.
"Well then, Morane Laerhart. Let's talk terms."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gal was so confused I almost felt sorry for him. Perhaps before my life got turned so far upside down that I didn't even blink at the idea of playing ambassador, I would have gotten whiplash from how fast this mission had changed. But for the past few months things had been going about this pace, with about this little warning before things went sideways, and I couldn't be surprised anymore.
"I don't understand," he said, for the third time. "We're just leaving?"
Dell, who had patiently explained the situation in the first place to him, threw up her hands and walked away. I couldn't blame her. She was already pissed at me for the stunt I pulled at the Assembly that morning — especially since it had worked. No one could expect her to deal with our adopted Knight after the way she'd been staring daggers at me.
Taking up the responsibility with a long-suffering sigh, I slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him toward his inn room to pack. "Yes, we're leaving. Since Magali's coronation has probably thrown everything back home into chaos, we've decided it's best we get back to the revolution's base as soon as possible. Emorial will send the second shipment of pistols after us once they've got enough."
"But what about..."
"I guarantee we've already answered whatever you're about to ask, so why don't you check your memory first?"
"But I don't understand..."
"—where the plan goes from here? Don't worry about it. That part's on me."
And if we could pull it off, it was a plan that would be remembered long after we were gone — the legend of the Royal Thief who stole a country only after she'd become the Assassin.