Queen & Conqueror (The Queens Red Guard Book 1) Read online

  But her mood soon soured. She scoffed at the signature scent in this side of town. It smelled of piss and ale, and the scent wafted up and serenaded the inhabitants with its constant rendition of nighttime retellings. She associated the smell with a time of her life she didn’t care to remember. The past was the past, she didn’t seek it and it didn’t seek her.

  A few peasants recognized her; they bowed then proceeded to whisper amongst themselves. Let them speculate. She had a task at hand, and nothing would deter her. At last, she came to the locale she sought. The shop was a small, raggedy establishment. The roof had seen little maintenance. It sagged down, throttled by many years of neglect.

  The sort of place frequented by the impecunious people who lived in the surrounding area.

  A woman stepped through the doorway, heavyset with a sour face and an annoyed brow. She swept the dust out of the shop with vigorous strokes of a broom, then paused when she spotted Sanaa.

  “I would think a high house would have better places to procure gowns than a shop like this,” the shopkeeper said and crossed her arms.

  Sanaa took off her helmet and her long thin braids cascaded down her back. “I come on behalf of the High Lady, and I seek a woman named Hester. I have it on good authority she works here. Will you still deny me entrance?”

  The shopkeeper looked mildly surprised. “You seek the old cripple? If it’s a gown her ladyship wants, I’ve better girls up for the task.”

  Sanaa placed her armored arm on the door frame and loomed over her. “Show me to Hester and I’ll make it worth your time.”

  She took out a small bag of coin and dangled it. The shopkeeper eyed the bag with undoubted desire and snatched it with her meaty fingers. She weighed it in her hand as she eyed Sanaa.

  She smiled. “This way, m’lady Sanaa.”

  Sanaa grabbed her arm. “How do you know my name?”

  The shopkeeper looked her up and down with a smirk. “There’s no mystery to who you are, m’lady. What other woman speaks for her ladyship and carries armor with such bearing?”

  Sanaa let her go and the shopkeeper led her into the shop. She took note of the young girls dressed in tatters. They created garments for other impoverished people, not the sort of cloth Lady Almira would ever wear. The place was dark, and it smelled of bodies seldom washed.

  “Are they indentured?” Sanaa asked.

  The shopkeeper laughed as she waddled between girls who scurried out of their way.

  “No, they come and stay of their own free will. Most don’t want to be whores or don’t want to be whores no more. Some have been with child and been kicked out of their pleasure house. The pay is shit but I don’t abuse them, and they get food and board. It keeps them here.”

  A young girl stumbled into Sanaa but she caught the girl before she could drop her cloths on the dirty floor.

  “I got you,” Sanaa said and smiled at her.

  The girl’s eyes widened as she looked over Sanaa. As if she’d never beheld a woman in armor before.

  “Mind the lady, girl!” The shopkeeper waved the girl away.

  A deep blush covered the girl’s young face and she quickly looked away and scurried to her station.

  “It’s perfectly fine.” Sanaa stared after her, but the shopkeeper tsked and pulled Sanaa towards the back.

  “Don’t mind them, they’re not used to such company.” The shopkeeper came upon a door at end of the shop.

  “Where are we?” Sanaa asked carefully as they stepped into the alleyway. Her hand instinctively went for her sword. Too often those who seemed harmless had shown their true colors. She hoped she was wrong; she was in no mood to slice heads and watch them roll on the ground.

  “The cripple prefers her own company and has little use for the rest of the girls,” the shopkeeper said.

  They came upon a small area where an old woman hunched over her loom. Her worn fingers moved nimbly over the threads. She had a head of white hair and skin paler than Sanaa had seen for a long time. She was certainly not a Suidian. Seldom were Suidians fair-skinned. The money to the whore was indeed worth it.

  “Hester! You’ve got a visitor.” The shopkeeper glanced at Sanaa. “Not too long, I’ve got orders that need to be fulfilled.”

  Sanaa almost laughed at the woman’s audacity. She had gumption; she would give her that.

  “I’ll take as long as I need. The coin should cover any loss of business,” Sanaa said coolly, and the shopkeeper sneered and stormed inside.

  Sanaa turned back to Hester who’d not stopped her rhythm on the machine. She worked swiftly without pause, as if in a trance. What Almira could possibly want with such a woman was beyond her; there were plenty of seamstresses in the city.

  “You’re the one they call Hester?”

  Sanaa walked to face her, and the woman slowly stopped. She took her time as she lit a pipe, blew out the smoke all the while her cool blue eyes took in the colors of Sanaa’s armor.

  It was evident by Sanaa’s red sash and embroidered eagle what house she belonged to. She didn’t care to hide it, though her childhood was dark and filled with tears. To be from House Cinege meant something in Suid, something worth more than gold.

  “What business have I with House Cinege?” Hester asked.

  Sanaa studied the proud stiffness of the woman’s angry lips. Her brows were bushy and overgrown, the hairs curved into her eyes. There was an old anger in her. Sanaa couldn’t quite place its root. It was strange to meet someone who held themselves so tightly. Sanaa could usually read a person and sense if they were friend or foe.

  “Are you Hester? The one who was seamstress to Lady Poelia decades ago?”

  Hester flinched and growled. “I don’t seek the past and the past doesn’t seek me.”

  Sanaa looked around the pitiful workspace. A chair that was held together by hay bindings, mended many times. Rats scurried the corners, licking the grease of pork sausages that still clung to discarded wrappers. A chill draft that danced in between the deteriorating buildings and cascaded down to one so old and seemingly frail. A pitiful workspace indeed.

  “You’ve come a long way from dressing high houses,” Sanaa said.

  Hester seemed unconcerned. She smirked and almost delighted in Sanaa’s perusal of her space.

  “I’ve had my fill of high houses, they’re as all poisonous as a gauro lizard,” she said.

  Sanaa fought the urge not to triumph in the woman’s mistake. There could be no doubt now of who the woman was. Almira would be most pleased.

  “The gauro lizard is a snow lizard not found in Suid. Only in Norr. Hair your color doesn’t come by easily here in the south. You must’ve been blond once. Skin that white? You’re no Suidian. You couldn’t be one if you wanted to. Which would make you who I seek.”

  Hester’s face reddened, and she took a long drag from her pipe.

  “I was born in this same city as you. One can’t help what stock breeds them, can they? I want nothing to do with royal houses, high ladies, or low ladies. It’s the filth of the world for me! I find they might have little manners but at least they’re honest.”

  Sanaa found a small stool and pulled it to sit across from Hester, leveling her with a look. Intimidation was a game learned as a child when you grew up in a home filled with people richer and more powerful than you were.

  “I come by the order of her ladyship, High Lady Almira. She requests your presence and you’re to come with me to see her after the unveiling.”

  Hester paused her fidgeting and glared at Sanaa. “I won’t go.”

  Sanaa crossed her arms, nearly amused. She almost liked the woman. She appreciated someone who spoke their mind.

  “That’s not an option, old woman.”

  “I’m a free person!” Hester went back to her loom. “If I say I won't see her then I won't, she can come and kill me herself.”

  “It’s not she who carries a blade,” Sanaa said slowly.

  Hester laughed. “You don’t scare me, guar
d. I’ve faced foes worse than you and survived.”

  Sanaa leaned forward. “I don’t give a fuck about your past and what you’ve faced and survived. All I know is her ladyship said find her and I have. She said bring her... and I will.”

  Chapter Two

  ALMIRA

  The High Lady Almira stared at the ocean from behind her veil. The waves of Suid were wild and ravenous. Their mouth agape and eager for a mouthful of a frail human who would slip into their claws.

  But she was no frail human. She was a dragon. As if sensing her presence, they stilled.

  Slowly, she pulled the black veil from her head and cast it out into the sea.

  The trumpets sounded and the female nobles around Almira released their own white veils, a symbolic sympathizing of her grief. She tired of grieving. For too long she’d sat idle.

  Next to her was her father, High Lord Beltran of Istok. He turned proudly to her and bowed. He made an excellent match for her by marrying her off to Edgar. With Edgar’s death, she now commanded the second largest territory in the kingdom.

  Deafening silence surrounded her as the people awaited her words. She turned and faced them. How many of them also lost loved ones a year ago? That her pain should be greater than theirs was a ludicrous thought. She searched their faces. She would do what she had to do to bring about peace.

  “From the sea our bodies came. To the sea our bodies go,” she said loudly.

  “Blessed be the High Lady Almira, ruler of Suid,” her father said. His booming voice left no room for questions.

  The spectators repeated her father’s words in unison. They then clapped and delighted, for the end of the mourning at long last came.

  Zuri was packed with people desiring a glimpse of the unveiled High Lady. She rode her white mare amidst them as women threw their veils and men bowed. A small child dressed in funeral white stared at her with steady piercing eyes. She was sharply reminded that Edgar left her with no children. Duty pressed her to continue both the Sikorian and Balikian line from which she came. She didn’t mind the pressures of duty; they were her nourishment in her youth and now she danced to the rhythm of their tune.

  When they arrived at the castle her father aided her from the horse and escorted her to the council room. It was comfortably sized with a large balcony that faced the Suidian Sea. In the center was a table of gilded gold surrounded with carved chairs, each adorned with red velvet cushions.

  “You have the people’s devotion,” her father said.

  She looked to Sanaa, and dismissed her with a nod. Sanaa paused and worriedly beheld Lord Beltran for a moment before bowing and taking her leave. They were alone, as Almira instructed.

  His gaze followed the guard’s exit until the door closed. “Daughter, now you need a proper guard.”

  “I trust Lady Sanaa with my life, father.”

  He sat before the table lain with bountiful Suidian food. Special summer roasted hog drenched in honey pepper sauce, sticky and perfect for dunking crunchy bits of day-old bread. The summer fruits were diced in an intricate platter. Little flies danced over the plums as the inviting nectar called to them.

  Almira sat opposite him on her late husband’s chair and watched as he enjoyed the meal. Her stomach soured at the coming conversation. She pressed her palms against the carved eagles on the hand rests. They looked at each other as they often did: in calculation. The magic moment before a game began and the opponents studied one another. She might not have inherited his red hair, but she was his daughter in every other way. Her mother had been dark as a starless night, a direct descendant of the first people, and Almira was a mold of their colors, mixed. Belonging to not one world or another. The only proof left of their love. Of his loss.

  “What are your plans?”

  She blinked at him. “My plans?”

  “My daughter is not an idiot. She knows what I would have her do.” He cut a piece of cheese and placed it on his golden plate.

  “You would have me declare war against King Alton, take the Suidian Army and Istokian Armada to Easima, and make myself queen and conqueror.” She met his eyes as she reached for her goblet.

  They played this game well. It was the game of war. She’d not lost it in many years.

  “Or would you have me declare myself queen before we march one soldier?” she asked.

  He smiled and nodded, content with his creation. “I didn’t raise a simpering maid. You have a better head for politics than Edgar ever did, that’s certain.”

  She slammed her cup down. “You speak so of my dead husband when I’ve just unveiled my head?”

  He looked her over with that sneer that once frightened her, but she was no longer a child. The girl he married off six years ago was not the woman that sat before him.

  “What is it with women and love? Have I taught you nothing, daughter?”

  His questions wrenched words from her throat she didn’t intend to utter.

  “May I remind my father that he too once loved?”

  She didn’t flinch at the tightness on his face; she meant to hurt him. Her mother’s death was the seeping wound he carried under his clothes. The stench of the infection wafted in her direction and overwhelmed those around him.

  He grimaced. “Your mother was–“

  The syllables plunged into his throat, and she shamed herself for lashing out.

  “We had a marriage based on love.” He shoved the plate away and cleansed his mouth with a cloth. “A most unwise decision.”

  Almira steadied her frame. “I know what you’ll have me do. But a decision has been made in my mind which you cannot alter.”

  He’d not expected that from her. This was not the game he sat to play.

  “To remain here? Isolated from the kingdom. Bowing to whatever king destroys our people?” He scoffed and stared at the balcony. She disappointed him.

  Lord Beltran had reached his fifty-fifth year and the lines of his tanned face, weathered by sea battles and sun, made him look older. His eyes were the color of a fierce blue ocean. They made many a man tremble, but she long lost her fear of those eyes.

  “I’ll bow to no king, father.”

  “Then you’ll do as I say.” He held a finger up, an oratory mannerism he often used when schooling those he deemed inept. “Declare yourself queen of the kingdoms. Istok will march with Suid into Easima and take down the brother-killer. He is a proud and stupid man.”

  She leaned back on the chair and calmly regarded him. It was time to move the pieces on the board.

  “That proud and stupid man’s army killed my husband and five thousand of my men. No, I’ll not march my army anywhere, despite your advice,” she said.

  “Men die in war. Soldiers know they cannot escape the Favia. I thought you would have a tougher stomach,” he said and swatted at the fruit flies that bounced before his face.

  Yes, the gods of death and war were always ravenous for their next meal. She’d never seen them, but she’d felt them. They enjoyed licking the air by her face whenever she lost a loved one. The night Edgar died, they danced in the shadows of her room and chanted his name to torment her.

  She stood and paced the mosaic tiles of the room, her feet following the trail of red and white slates.

  “We lost the war. It’s done,” she said. “King Alton might be many things but he’s a brilliant war strategist and I’ll not outthink him on the battlefield.”

  He cocked his head as he beheld her, his face a mask of disillusionment. “Then you’re a coward.”

  “You forget I am a woman; courage doesn’t define our character.”

  “I raised you differently.” He scoffed dismissively.

  “You raised me differently in a world unchanged.”

  She sat once more on the eagle chair and grasped the handles. She would persist regardless of his displeasure. “Courage can take many faces. I’ve already put plans into motion which can no longer be changed. I’ve sent King Alton terms of surrender– “

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; He beheld her in disbelief and slammed his fist on the table. Her stomach iced as the flies angrily buzzed away from the plums when they rolled and fell on the floor.

  “You what?”

  “– upon his response, I shall name my uncle, Lord Thebo, High Lord of Suid.”

  “You shan’t.”

  “I can and I will.” She looked him over. “Last time I checked, I was High Lady of Suid. Not you.”

  “I am your father!”

  “But not my lord.”

  His lips thinned against his teeth and his neck reddened. “Where will you go, daughter? Home? Istok will refuse you entry!”

  She almost laughed to think she would hide in her homeland with her tail between her legs. Men really understood very little of women.

  “I’ve made King Alton an offer of marriage. And with my hand, I will end this war.”

  “You’ve…” He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.

  “I’ve offered King Alton my hand in exchange for peace and assured him Suid and Istok stand with our king.”

  Silence descended and she counted her breaths to ensure they would be measured and steady. Their eyes locked and the battle of wills erupted.

  “You’d marry that murderer.” His voice was sharp steel. “That savage. That blood-thirsty monster, that brother-killer! You’d put his cock in your cunny and fuck out of him a child because you want peace?”

  She didn’t blink.

  “He’ll take your hand, the hand of the highest lady in the kingdom, and have his dogs fuck your treaty, you stupid girl!”

  “It is contingent – “

  “Contingent! You don’t know the meaning of the word! You’re a girl, a girl playing at being a queen instead of being a queen. I’ll tell you what Alton will do with you, he’ll clap you in a room, fuck you when it’s needed and leave you there until you rot. All the while he’ll exterminate Suid and Istok, whoring his way through our lands and slaughtering the people you claim to protect!”