The Princess of Sorrows Read online

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  Faithful Usían at last returned on the day of Síle’s dreaded marriage ceremony. He slipped in at the back of the hall and caught Karon’s eye with his usual subtlety. Clare also took note of his kinsman’s return, a slight shift in his stance communicating his awareness through Karon’s fingertips resting on his shoulder.

  Karon had dared hope, but the sight of Usían filled her with joy, and she sent up a prayer of thanksgiving to Vail and the Twin Gods and all their brothers and sisters for this chance to set things to rights.

  Clare had been certain, and hidden beneath his best clothes, he wore every weapon he possessed. Karon tried not to think him too young for this fight. She’d made her First Kill at almost the same age, but the stakes this day were so much higher than any she’d faced back then.

  Her hands itched for her sword which must have arrived with Usían. Karon thought she could sense the presence of her tribesmen all around her now, infiltrating SanEdora in the guise of wedding guests. Surprise would be her first, best weapon. But so much is in poor Síle’s hands.

  Taggart watched her, but she would not meet his eyes, knowing he would see not a terrified woman but a warrior. He had grown ever more bold as this day approached; Karon suspected he meant to take some action of his own beyond wedding a child. I will cut him down like a stag and say no prayer of regret for the deed.

  The piper signaled the ceremony’s start, calling Karon’s attention back to the moment just as Síle appeared in the archway opposite the dais. The girl walked with her eyes downcast, her hand on her mother’s arm. She carried a bouquet of early flowers and trailed flower-laden ladies-in-waiting enough to make her honor equal to a queen’s.

  Karon counted their steps to see how much longer Toin’s rule had left.

  Clare tensed under Karon’s hand as Síle left her mother’s arm and climbed the dais steps to Taggart’s side, but he made no other move which might show their hand too soon. That is for Síle to do.

  Toin took his place and bestowed a fond gaze upon his guests. Karon briefly felt sorry for him—too foolish to understand even how foolish he was.

  Síle and Taggart moved to stand before him.

  Karon held her breath.

  Síle looked up and let the waerlok see her eyes, and at that same moment, Karon held out her hand toward the crowd, down and out of sight, and felt the hilt of her beloved sword against her palm for the first time in too many years.

  My sword. Not some wretched practice blade, but my sword.

  Taggart stood mesmerized by the revelation of Síle’s golden eyes. His waerlok’s instincts wanted her blood, but his face reflected his fight against the desire.

  He does have a larger plan. His reaction having confirmed Karon’s suspicions, she smiled when she heard Larel’s commanding voice cry out, “Now!”

  Clare needed no command and whirled, a dagger gripped in each hand, to guard his mother’s back, as Karon lunged forward, her sword flowing out in an arc she knew in her bones to be a thing of beauty, thwacking aside a hapless lady-in-waiting who stood between Karon and the wedding couple.

  At last Karon freed her true voice, shouting out a battle cry to call SanSerath to action. Taggart turned toward Karon, his face blank with surprise, but he reacted more quickly than she’d expected. Drawing a knife from the folds of his cloak, at the same time seizing Síle by the throat. Karon shouted again, despairing. I’m too far away! But it was her husband who moved in time.

  Toin knocked an elbow hard into Taggart’s head and grabbed at the waerlok’s wrist, but an unseen hand threw him away as if he were a doll, hurtling him into the wall behind the dais.

  The power glimmered around Taggart like fog on a field, and his lips moved, voicing either a string of curses or one of his evil spells. Karon heard Clare cry out—the sound dragging at her attention—but Taggart must be stopped, or he would kill Síle. If he regains his focus, he’ll kill us all.

  Síle’s frightened eyes narrowed into determination as a new glow engulfed her skin and pushed back against Taggart’s power. The waerlok stiffened, shocked by this resistance, and his head tipped back as if the girl had slapped him.

  Karon hovered just beyond, held back by the magic the two were working against each other. The sounds of the fighting in the hall behind her rang deafeningly against her ears and tore against her nerves like claws. But she must trust Larel and Usían and her brothers and Clare.

  The moment came. The glow around Taggart wavered as his mouth froze on the beginnings of a unspoken word. Sweat beaded Síle’s brow but her eyes darted to Karon, the barest of nods her only signal.

  Karon moved. She smiled as she noted the perfection to which her brothers had maintained her sword. The blade, as sharp as Vail’s smile, sliced through skin and blood and into bone like a ship’s prow parting water.

  Síle leapt back, the glow of her power fading as the waerlok’s gurgling scream tore across all other sounds. Karon shoved him to the ground with one foot and yanked her sword free from where it had lodged in Taggart’s backbone. His body flailed in a headless chicken’s death throes, blood bubbling from his mouth. Karon raised her blade two-handed and drove the point into the man’s heart.

  As Karon freed her sword once more and whirled to face the next challenge, a chaotic scene met her eyes. Tangles of vines and grasses filled every door and window, binding dozens of people to chairs and holding some where they’d been standing. Bryn’s people had worked magic, indeed, in this fight, and she smiled at this proof that not all warriors must needs kill.

  In a few places, the vegetation had been hacked away but her tribesmen and Larel’s small team of half-bloods—even a few SanEdora who seemed to have chosen to fight against Toin’s blasphemous rule—had taken charge against the fading resistance.

  Karon searched frantically for Clare but didn’t find him until she turned back toward the dais, following Usían’s gaze. Fear burned at the back of her throat, for her kinsman’s customary calm had been replaced by dismay.

  Toin stood across the dais from her, his sword held on Clare who, blood-spattered and determined and still gripping a dagger in each hand, stood facing his father.

  Karon’s unborn child chose that moment to kick her very hard, and her breath gasped out. Clare’s attention flickered toward her, startled, and Toin moved closer.

  “Clear the dais,” Karon shouted, her feet already moving. She did not doubt Toin would kill Clare. To wound me, to prove his ruthlessness. If he does, I shall end his life as slowly as the gods will allow.

  Síle hadn’t moved in the moments since Karon had killed Taggart, but she snapped from blurred, swaying exhaustion into action at Karon’s command, scuffling over to Clare’s side to urge him to follow. Toin watched Karon’s approach and did not intervene.

  “He is your son, my lady.” Toin seemed calmer now than he’d ever been. “Never mine.”

  “He is my First Born.” Karon’s true voice sounded inside SanEdora’s hall with a satisfying echo.

  Toin had broken that law, too, fathering his First Born on a serving maid only a few moons before Karon had arrived to wed him. Clare would never have been the leader of SanEdora, for though Toin and his father had pretended otherwise, the gods did not care how or to whom a First Born came into being.

  Clare interrupted them, pulling free from Síle as he tried to hold his ground. “I must guard her back!”

  “You must not fight your father.” Karon would not shame her son by scolding, but she was glad when Usían appeared to lead Clare away.

  “You would fight me, dear wife?” Toin forced lightness into his voice, mocking her even after all that had happened.

  Karon had been proud of his defense of Síle, but he was still the same man who, when given time to consider, chose the worst path to take.

  “I would not.” She returned his shaking smile with a sharp-edged one of her own. He paled but stood his ground. “But only if you will surrender.”

  He gl
ared pointedly at her swollen belly and coughed out a hollow bark of laughter which no voice echoed. The sounds of fighting had faded away, and Karon suspected any remaining resistance awaited the outcome of this standoff.

  Even Toin must know his cause is lost. “I will spare your life, husband. For our children. For your people. You may live, but you must leave.”

  Toin stared at her, mouth open in disbelief. Taggart’s blood had sprayed wide, making an arc of red across the front of his tunic and on his face. Karon knew that she, too, bore grisly remembrances of her enemy.

  “Do as she says, Toin.” Larel moved to stand at the foot of the dais steps. “You are not First Born, and I do not wish to fight.”

  Karon remembered pitying Larel as useless and cowed. She is a warrior. I was the foolish one.

  Toin’s jaw dropped farther, and he inhaled outrage as he turned on his sister. “Father named me prince!”

  “Against the laws of all the gods, yes,” Larel agreed. “And you see what this has earned you—earned SanEdora? We are beaten. We live on only by this lady’s grace.”

  Toin seemed finally to take in the chaos around him. The visiting princes and princesses—invited to witness the glory of his rule—stood together, encircled by their guards, and seemed satisfied by what had happened. Toin searched the vast room, trying to find an ally. Closed expressions met him wherever he looked, and Karon sighed. She lowered her sword.

  “Toin, please.” She would not beg him to think for once, but she did not wish to kill a man whose worst offenses sprang from foolishness rather than cunning. “Accept exile, for all our sakes.”

  Usían appeared beside Larel but looked only to Karon. “Shall I dispatch him for you, my lady?” Impassive as ever, his demeanor made it plain he thought such a duty beneath Karon’s dignity.

  Jaw set, Toin flung his sword away, sending it clattering across the floor. After a long silence, he rasped, “I did not think anyone could defeat the waerloks. Yet you did it... so...” He shook his head and did not stop as he looked at her, his expression one of childish confusion. “Why did you wait so long?”

  “I needed another gift from the gods.” Karon gestured toward Síle, who blushed at the attention.

  “All hail Queen Karon!” Larel shouted. Cheers roared up from every corner of the hall.

  “Queen?” Karon gasped, but Larel as a First Born had the right to propose such a thing. The other tribal leaders cheered along with her people and much of SanEdora. Clare pushed away from Usían and climbed up to stand beside his mother once more. He put his arm around her waist as if she needed support, which, she realized from the shaking in her knees, she did.

  “It’s right you should be queen, Mother,” Clare said, firm and decided and prepared, it seemed, to talk her into the role. “There are more waerloks, and everyone knows you can defeat them.”

  “We can defeat them, my love.” Karon gave his shoulder a squeeze. She and Síle, caught safe in her own mother’s arms, smiled at each other across the room. “Together, we’ll defeat them all.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jenna Waterford lives in Chicago with two perfect cats and one somewhat helpless Roomba® and can be found online at jennawaterford.tumblr.com.

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