Winter Queen by Amber Argyle
Rycus rotated soldiers so they didn’t grow too tired. Finally, Nelay caught sight of the palace. The gates were closed. They were trapped.
Arrows rained down on the Clansmen attacking them. Nelay glanced at the wall to see archers doing their best to save them.
Someone cried out in Clannish, “Honor to the Shyle!”
A cluster of Clansmen sprinted at their formations from the side. The shield line buckled, and Nelay suddenly found herself on the front lines. She felt no fear, only a profound sense of relief. She wasn’t useless anymore. Her body slipped effortlessly into rhythm, slicing and cutting. Jezzel fought in perfect rhythm beside her as they retreated.
When they were finally close enough to the gates, a formation of Immortals sallied out. They beat the Clansmen into their own retreat before turning and arrowing through the gates.
Once inside, Nelay had a hard time putting her swords away. She was still itching for a fight. Gradually that faded, leaving her tired, her injured arm throbbing in time to her heartbeat. Hazar and Ahzem, only a little battered, jogged up to her, relief on their faces. They took up positions at a respectful distance.
She found Rycus, alone. “Where are your men?”
“I lost them,” he replied even as his eyes scanned for the crowd for his cousins.
Someone called out, “Queen Nelay!” and she started, thinking of the man who’d spit on her. But as people broke out in a cheer, slapping each other’s backs, she relaxed a bit. More citizens called out to Nelay. Her guards closed ranks around her as the Idarans who’d been trapped slipped by, grasping her arm or hand and tearfully expressing their thanks.
Rycus watched them warily and said, “I guess you were right.” He and Nelay stood side by side, but neither of them made a move to touch the other. Her tender feelings for him seemed so far removed from the battles and the death that she couldn’t reach out to him. Not yet. “I could have just as easily been wrong,” she told him.
Lines of worry etched his face. “I’m going to check on my men.”
She moved to follow him but saw someone she recognized—one of Havva’s granddaughters. Around her was a cluster of people Nelay recognized from her time with them in Dalarta. They were Havva’s offspring, and they were crying.
The face Nelay had seen . . . Numb, she and headed toward the group, but a woman blocked her path. “Those soldiers saw us trapped. They stopped to help, knowing they would fall behind.” Tears filled her eyes. “We thought we would all die or become slaves, but you saved us.”
More came to speak with Nelay and touch her. She pushed them back. “Let me through!” Ahzem and Hazar made her a path. Finally, she reached the group of Havva’s loved ones. The old woman lay in the midst of them, pain written on her wrinkled face. One of the girls looked at Nelay. “She saved my life—hit one of the Clansmen over the head when he tried to . . .” Her voice trailed off as sobs racked her.
Nelay leaned forward and pulled back part of the Havva’s robes to reveal deep and bloody wounds in her abdomen. “Havva?” she gasped.
The old woman gripped Nelay’s hand, her delicate bones standing out in her pale skin. She was dying, and they both knew it. Nelay remembered what Havva had told her about a woman’s sacrifice. “You gave life, you saved life. The world is a better place because you lived in it. You won.”
Havva managed a smile, even though her body was jerking. “Knife.”
Nelay shook her head. She couldn’t do this again. First Scand, and now Havva. “No.”
The old woman’s pleading eyes met Nelay’s. Nearly choking on her tears, Nelay took one of her throwing knives and pressed it into the old woman’s gnarled hand. Then she staggered back, unable to watch.
The family moved close again, and several seconds later their cries became screams. A boy turned and gave Nelay a look of betrayal.
She staggered away and practically collapsed on the palace steps. Jezzel sat beside her, resting her hand on Nelay’s back. Nelay wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but when she looked up, Nashur was storming toward her.
Jezzel jumped to her feet and stepped between them. “Now is not a good time, High Commander.”
He shoved her away and shouted at the queen, “You didn’t!”
“I did.” Nelay scrubbed her face with her sleeve.
“And you let her,” he barked, glaring at Jezzel.
She shrugged. “Queen trumps captain of the guard.”
Nashur’s glare returned to Nelay. “You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I had to.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why?”
Nelay wiped her nose. “Because it gave them back their pride. We were an army defeated, but even in defeat, we were strong.”
Nashur rested his hand on his sword hilt. “I haven’t the final counts, but it looks like we lost half of our Immortals. Roughly half of the army.” Nelay’s hand went to her throat—that was over fifty thousand men. “I’ve assigned men to count the Idarans, but those numbers aren’t in yet.”
Her arm throbbed harder. “How bad is it?”
Nashur folded his hands behind his back. “Our provisions won’t last long. A few days.”
Rycus came to stand beside them, his face hard. Nelay could tell he was grieving, and her heart sank. “Who is it?” she said.
It took him several seconds to respond. “Delir—he’s missing. No one saw what happened.”
Nelay swallowed. “Havva was with them. She had—” She couldn’t continue.
“Her wounds were mortal,” Jezzel finished for her.
“This has to end now,” Nelay said. She looked at Rycus, asking him with her eyes to understand. To forgive her. To know she couldn’t bear to be the cause of any more deaths.
“Give us some space,” he said without looking at the others. They withdrew, their backs turned.
Rycus sat on the steps beside his wife. “I have to go to Suka,” she said. “I have to try.”
He took her arms in his hands. “Nelay, once you start plotting, you can get out of anything.”
“And if more people die?”
“You just saved hundreds of people. The gates are already closed. It will be hours before the Clansmen try anything. Use those hours—that’s all I’m asking.”
The words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat. She looked down.
“You promised you would try one more time,” Rycus reminded her.
She had a feeling they were just delaying the inevitable, but he was right—they were safe at present. Silently, she nodded.
Rycus helped her to her feet and walked with her toward the palace. After a moment, Nashur, Jezzel, Hazar, and Ahzem joined them.
“I want a list of every man who went on the charge with us,” Nelay said to Nashur, her voice trembling with emotion. “And the names of the Immortals we saved. See that each receives a hero tattoo and an elevation in rank.”
Nashur relayed her orders to a messenger, who looked around before approaching a woman dressed in the robes of a university apprentice.
Rycus cleared his throat. “Why weren’t we more prepared for the outer wall to fall?”
Nashur motioned for them to follow him into the palace. The throne room, at least, had been cleared out. “To be blunt, we were as ready as we could be.”
Nelay felt a headache forming in her forehead and knew she needed to eat. “And the palace’s defenses?”
“We fare better there,” Nashur replied. “One of the priestesses admitted they have some luminash left. And their armory is extensive. The food on the other hand . . .”
Jezzel leaned forward. “If it wasn’t for the food shortages, how long could we hold out?”
Nashur looked back at the Idarans milling about beyond the palace doors before he stepped into the corridor. “Our numbers are reduced, but they’re also highly condensed. The wall isn’t as high or as strong as the city wall, b
They all looked at Nelay, apparently waiting for her to come up with some brilliant and unique solution. But she was empty, like a burned-out lantern. She searched the faces of her husband and her best friend. “Ideas?”
“Did they really tunnel in?” Jezzel asked as they arrived in the war room and Hazar and Ahzem took up positions at the door.
Nashur sat on a chair with a grunt. “They came up in an abandoned building. At some point, a signal was given. The tunnel’s supports were burned, which collapsed the walls. Our gates were attacked from both sides. We hadn’t the men to defend at that point.”
“Did you ever find out how the assassins came to be in the palace?” Rycus spoke up.
Nashur shook his head. “Not yet.”
“But there’s a way we can find out,” Jezzel said. “Unless you killed the man we captured.”
“He didn’t survive the questioning,” the high commander said without emotion.
Nelay cringed at the implication, fighting back a wave of nausea.
“Someone must have helped him,” Jezzel said.
Nelay could feel each of the stitches, feel the heat and swelling of her arm, pulsing, pulsing. “What Idaran would do such a thing?”
“One who does not want to become a slave,” Rycus said tightly.
Maran sidled into the war room, Concon in her arms. Seeing her brought out Nelay’s memories of Havva all over again.
Jezzel patted Nelay’s back. “I’m going to go see if I can round us up some food. Don’t leave this room until I come back.”
“I’ll go with her,” Rycus informed Nelay, then fell in beside Jezzel. “I need to see one of the healers.”
“Why?” Nelay said sharply.
He turned to her and lifted his trouser leg, revealing a gash on his shin. “It’s not too deep—a few stitches and I’ll be fine.”
She moved to go with him but he held up his hand. “You need some rest and you need to be available if the Clansmen decide to attack. This shouldn’t take long.”
Nelay glanced at his wound again. It didn’t look too bad—she’d had worse. “All right.” She collapsed in a chair and rested her head on her folded arms.
“I tried to keep them out,” Maran said in a rush as soon as the others had stepped away. “I really did. But they came inside anyway.”
“Keep who out of where?” Nelay mumbled from within her arms.
“Your rooms,” Maran wailed. “They’ve been taken over.”
Nelay almost laughed. Of all the struggles she’d endured today, this was nothing. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But all your things—”
Nelay wiped her eyes and sat up. “They were never mine. They were Zatal’s.” She opened her mouth to tell Maran about Havva, then realized the telling of it would break her again. And Nelay couldn’t afford to break.
She glanced around suddenly. “Wait, where are his mistress and children?”
Maran grunted. “Ziyid had better luck barring the doors than I did.”
“Well, I imagine she’s had more practice since I became queen.” For surely the woman had barred them to keep Nelay out. “We’ll be staying with her from now on.”
“I don’t think she’s going to like that.”
“I don’t much care. Go to her rooms and demand that she let you in.”
Maran hesitated and seemed about to say something, but Nashur trotted down the last few stairs from the tower. “My queen, the Clansmen have called a parley.”
Nelay had an overwhelming urge to run. “For what?”
“To discuss the terms of our surrender.”
“Surrender.” She pushed to her feet, her jaw tight. Before she ever surrendered Idara, she would give herself over to the fairies. She looked around for her husband, needing his strength, then remembered he was with the healers.
“They’re waiting, my queen,” Nashur said.
Nelay sighed. “Very well.” She started off and spotted Maran. “I thought I told you to go to Ziyid.”
Maran pulled something out of her robes and thrust it at Nelay. It was the phoenix mantle. “I couldn’t carry anything else and Concon. I’m sorry.”
Nelay wished she’d left it altogether. “Thank you.” She slipped it over her head, sure she didn’t look very queenly. Her clothes were sour, her hair coming out of its braid, but with her swords, she would at least look fierce.
Maran nodded and left. Jezzel jogged back into the room, a basket on her hip. “I brought what I could find.
Nelay looked at Hazar and Ahzem, who had been following her around for hours like burrs on a donkey. “The Clansmen can wait.”
They ate traveling food: dried meat, hard biscuits, fruit, and nuts. Nelay could have eaten more—she knew they all could have—but it was better to have a little now than none later.
As she strode through the palace to the gates, Idarans shifted out of her way. A guard opened the man door, and Nelay stepped outside with Nashur and her guards at her sides.
The Clansmen had set up a tent in the center of the road. She tried not to pay attention to the bodies she had to step over or their sickly sweet smell. She strode up to the tent as if she wasn’t afraid, as if she didn’t loathe the ten men waiting to greet her.
A man of about forty stood a step in front of the group, wearing an intricate belt over a linen shirt with embroidery around the hem. “I am High Chief Bratton of the Shyle. These are my fellow Clansmen, all chiefs of their own clans.”
He motioned for another man, who began translating into Idaran. Unwilling to let on that she spoke Clannish, Nelay waited for the translator to repeat the words before she said, “I am Nelay Arel Mandana ShaBejan, Queen of Idara.” She held out her hand toward Nashur. “And this is Nashur, high commander of the Immortals and the army.”
Bratton raised a single eyebrow—she wondered how he did that. “Isn’t there a new king?” he asked the translator.
The translator nodded. “The prince of the desert tribes who has given us so much grief.”
One of the clan chiefs said under his breath, “Maybe we made her a widow again.”
A few of them cracked smiles. Bratton frowned. “I do not find that comment amusing, Gregan.”
The man’s smile disappeared.
Bratton looked her in the eye. “Queen Nelay, your soldiers have fought bravely. You have defended your city bravely. But now it is time to end the fighting.”
He waited while the interpreter translated.
“You would make us slaves,” she said as soon as the man was done.
Bratton frowned. “Our laws of reparation demand a debt to be repaid.”
“I have no debt to you or your people,” Nelay said when the interpreter was finished. “I was not even born when King Kutik attacked your lands.”
Bratton watched her impassively. “Raiders are not to be trusted. Murderers, conquerors, monsters, the lot of you.” He growled in his throat and said to the interpreter, “Don’t tell her that, I lost my temper.” He rubbed his forehead. “Tell her that our dead demand justice.”
She trained her gaze on this strange man as the interpreter finished. “You think yourself better than us? You who have invaded our lands, killed our people, destroyed our homes?” She scoffed. “Clansmen killed both my parents in their home. Neither of them had ever been soldiers. What of the boy I watched one of your Clansmen murder as he ran for his life? What of the girl whose grandmother died trying to save her granddaughter from your men’s ravaging hands? What debt did they owe?”
Bratton’s face had turned red with rage. “It was because of the conniving of the Raiders that my father became a cripple. That my Clansmen were murdered. I lost my sister and my best friend. The Raiders will haunt us no more, because they won’t exist.”
Nelay steeled her expressi
She turned on a heel without another word and marched back to the palace. Once inside the war room, she slumped into the nearest chair.
“That did not go well,” Jezzel said.
Nelay chuckled darkly. “No. It did not.” She felt tears pricking her eyes. “I hate them. Truly hate them.”
Nashur braced himself against the backs of one of the chairs. “We should accept.”
Nelay’s gaze jerked up. “What?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “We don’t have a choice. I can’t watch our people starve to death.”
Nelay’s mouth hung open before she snapped it shut. “Idara will be gone. Our way of life, our cities—everything. We’ll be a legend, a myth.”
Jezzel said, “Not to mention the fact that they’ll kill all of the leaders, which includes us.”
“They didn’t say that,” Nashur replied.
“They didn’t have to. You’re too dangerous to be kept alive.” Jezzel looked around the room. “We all are.”
Nashur dragged his gaze to Nelay’s. “Better a myth than a tomb, which is what this palace will become.”
“Zatal didn’t think so.” She found herself wishing he were alive, that this burden was still his to bear. “Nashur, if I’ve lost you, I’ve lost the armies.”
“My queen, it’s over,” he said softly. “I can’t send my men to fight, not when there’s no chance of survival.”
But there was a chance. Nashur just didn’t know it yet. Nelay considered telling him, then remembered what Tix had said about the goddess’s spies always listening. “I won’t let it come to that,” she promised quietly.
He didn’t respond, and the silence grew until it filled the room. Nelay glanced at her exhausted guards. “You three get some rest. Nashur can assign someone else to watch over me.”
Even Jezzel didn’t argue as Nelay pushed herself up from the table. “I will speak with my husband now.”
Jezzel grabbed her arm. “You promised him you would try one more time. You can’t give up, not yet. Not when the price might still be more than we can afford to pay.”