1Reyna
There were days when Reyna missed the heart-pounding thrill of guarding a queen.
It wasn’t often. She rather loved her quiet life as a tea maker in the small, icy town of Tawney. Loved her friends and their daily drama. Loved the cozy barn-turned-bookstore she’d created with her partner, Kianthe, and the warmth that filled it. Entire days were spent watching the clouds pass. Reyna’s biggest concern was how well her baby griffon would take to training that day. Accomplishments came in the form of a quiet kiss or a particularly tasty blend of tea.
But against all odds, Reyna had a certain nostalgia for her old job. Guarding a notoriously vicious queen. Stalking assassins through crowded ballrooms. Hunting down conspirators in back alleys. Besting the most skilled swordsmen in the Queendom in private duels.
Again, it wasn’t often.
But sometimes.
So, a thrill raced through Reyna as she and her fiancée crested the hill and surveyed the organized chaos of Diarn Arlon’s home.
“A ball?” Reyna couldn’t keep the intrigue out of her voice. “Diarn Arlon is hosting a ball tonight?”
“That would explain why no one but the stable boy was around to greet us.” Kianthe crossed her arms. “Gotta admit, I didn’t see this coming.”
The diarn’s riverside estate was massive, spanning an area that could have fit the entire town of Tawney comfortably. But the party was centralized to a manicured lawn beside the powerful Nacean River—Shepara’s largest river, so wide the opposite bank was barely visible. A six-piece orchestra filled the nighttime air with gentle swells of music. Torches illuminated a well-stocked buffet table, and square tiles constructed a dance floor over the spongy grass. All of it was visible from their elevated position, where she and Kianthe perched in the shadows of Diarn Arlon’s looming hilltop mansion.
But the best part? Constables—Diarn Arlon’s private guards—patrolled everywhere. Their black uniforms and silver badges reminded Reyna vividly of her own cohorts, of the days when she and Venne would prowl the edges of Her Excellency’s ballrooms clad in crimson and gold.
Her hand drifted to the sword at her hip, and she bounced on her toes. What was Diarn Arlon expecting tonight? Bandits? An assassin, perhaps? She hadn’t drawn her weapon for anything other than practice drills in so long.
Beside her, Kianthe bounced for a different reason. “Well, no complaints. By the Stone, that’s so much food. Do you think it’s free?”
Reyna snorted. “Darling, we’ve hardly starved up to this point.”
“Okay, sure, but homegrown plants only go so far.” Kianthe gestured down the hillside. “Look at that spread! Turkey, pork, fish … The salmon here is incredible. You have to try it.”
“We’re here for a reason, Key. We don’t have time for—” Reyna paused as movement caught her eye. “—for salmon,” she finished lamely.
Down near the riverbank, one of the constables glanced over her shoulder, then slipped into the pine forest that circled the manicured lawn in a dark embrace. The constable vanished in a breath.
Hmm.
“Rain?” Kianthe poked her shoulder, then followed her gaze to the forest. “You have that ‘something’s wrong’ look. What’s happening?”
“I don’t have a ‘something’s wrong’ look,” Reyna replied.
“Sure you do. Your eyebrows twitch, and you start smiling.”
Reyna smoothed her expression, but inside her chest warmed. No one else had ever noticed anything like that, not until she started dating Kianthe.
The Arcandor continued, amused now: “You’re also the only person I know who smiles at the first sign of trouble.” She flipped her dark, shoulder-length hair off her face and casually ignited one palm in flames. “So, who’s causing problems tonight? The food can wait.”
They’d been dating for years, but Reyna would never get used to seeing a mage just … light themself on fire. It was lucky everyone else was near the river—otherwise, they’d definitely be attracting attention.
Reyna squeezed Kianthe’s arm, feeling the heat of the flames and trusting she’d never be burned. “First, you are wonderful, and I love you dearly. Second, not everything is a problem.”
“Mmm. Sure. But when you get that look, something usually is.”
Reyna squinted again at the trees. “It’s probably nothing. A constable went into the forest, that’s all. It’s odd that she’d leave her rotation.”
“It is odd she’d … leaf … like that.”
Reyna leveled an unamused stare at her fiancée.
Kianthe grinned. “Okay, sorry. Maybe that is her rotation.” The mage extinguished her palm by shaking the flames out, like one might after dunking their hand in water. She rocked back on her heels, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a chill swept off the river. Kianthe didn’t love the cold.
“The diarn—is he a diarn or a councilmember?”
“Well, technically he’s a diarn who serves on the council, but his title will be ‘diarn.’”
Reyna nodded, then moved on: “Well, Diarn Arlon has established eight points of focus around the party, and six additional rotations covered by eighteen constables. Seventeen, now.” Her thumb rubbed circles over the clay disc on her sword’s pommel, the one Kianthe had magicked to cover Queen Tilaine’s royal insignia. “Every rotation stays within sight of the grounds. It’s possible he’d have more in the woods, but no one else is crossing lines.”
Kianthe stared at her.
Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “Something to say, love?”
“You’re sexy as hells when you talk like that, and now I’m wondering if I can take you off rotation by dragging you into the forest.”
It shouldn’t have taken Reyna by surprise, but it did. She snorted, then covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “There are days where I wonder what the Realm would think if they truly knew what the Mage of Ages was like.”
“They’d probably think I’m sexy as hells, too.” Kianthe grinned, rocking back on her heels. “So, let me guess. You’re going to investigate the constable … and you’re sticking me with the boring job of confronting Arlon about that shipment.”
“It’s important to cover our bases,” Reyna replied steadily. “And I’d hardly be of help with Diarn Arlon. He’ll be more receptive to the Arcandor requesting information than an ex-royal guard from the Queendom.”
Kianthe set her jaw. Reyna couldn’t blame her; they’d encountered that prejudice more than once on their journey through Shepara. The mage’s words were clipped. “Not like our countries are at peace, or anything. Not like you don’t make the best cup of tea in Shepara or the Queendom.”
“Ah, yes. A cup of tea. The best way to sway international politics.” Reyna winked and started down the hillside. “See you in a bit, darling.”
She dove into the forest, casting only a brief glance over her shoulder to see Kianthe trudging down the carefully marked path to the river’s edge. A fond smile crossed Reyna’s lips. Hopefully Kianthe could stay focused—that was always the question with her fiancée.
Reyna, meanwhile, moved swiftly and silently through the forest, ever alert, years of training resurfacing as easy as breathing. This far north, the pine trees loomed thick and heavy overhead, their boughs swaying in the ever-present wind coming off the massive river. It didn’t take long for the orchestra’s melody to quiet to a whisper. When Reyna reached the river’s shore, she homed in on the subtle tip-tip-tip of a constable’s footsteps over fallen pine needles.
She was just about to approach when movement on the river caught her eye: an ominous shape moving fast away from the party.
Reyna stepped to the river’s edge, boots slipping in soft mud as she craned to see details. It must be a ship, with the smooth way it cruised across the water’s surface. But if it used sails, they were black cloth, nearly invisible, and there wasn’t a lantern at the bow to signify its presence.
“Excuse me,” a sharp voice said behind her.
Reyna whirled, one hand on her sword’s hilt.
The constable had found her. With skin the pigment of burnt umber and a uniform of black velvet, she was almost as difficult to see as whatever was drifting downriver. But her tone couldn’t be mistaken—it was one Reyna had often used while patrolling.
“Are you a guest of the party?” She also reached for her weapon. Unlike the long, thin blades used by the Queensguard, Diarn Arlon equipped his constables with a shorter sword that curved into a point at the end.
Neither woman unsheathed her sword, but the air was tense with anticipation.
“Something like that,” Reyna answered.
The constable frowned at her accent. “You’re from the Queendom.”
Of course. The constable’s tone wasn’t shocking—Queen Tilaine had a bad reputation heavily steeped in truth—but considering how many people she’d heard it from, Reyna was getting a bit irritated. After all, she’d separated from that life and was trying to build a new one.
It never seemed to matter.
The constable was still waiting for an answer, so Reyna nodded curtly. “I am. But today, I’m on business with the Arcandor.”
“The Arcandor.” The constable’s tone was deadpan. She didn’t remove her hand from her sword. “Last I heard, the Arcandor was in Tawney.”
Reyna drew a short breath, focusing on the scent of pine, moss, and wet soil.
“We’ve come west. Fortunately, the Arcandor isn’t tethered to one location.” Reyna maintained an amicable disposition, even as sarcasm lurked on the edges of her statement.
The constable frowned. “Hmm. Regardless, weapons aren’t allowed at the diarn’s ball.”
Reyna could respect that. She’d collected many from nobles who thought it appropriate to arrive at the Grand Palace with decorative swords or daggers. But she had no plans to relinquish her own, so she diverted: “I’ll remember that when I enter. What is Diarn Arlon celebrating?”
The constable looked like she wanted to push the issue, but she didn’t. She shifted in the soft soil of the riverbank, glancing at the full moon through the snarl of pine needles. “He hosts a feast every year on the second full moon of fall. It’s meant to evaluate the year’s crops and award the highest-performing farmers with bonuses.”
“Bonuses?” Reyna’s brow furrowed.
“An idea he implemented years ago to encourage the highest yield from his lands. Our barley and wheat exports are the best in the Realm.”
Reyna tilted her head in consideration, fingers idly tapping the sheath of her sword. Abundant crops were certainly where Diarn Arlon earned his reputation. Without the rich soil of the Nacean River, Shepara would be facing a food shortage. Even the Queendom, far to the east, purchased his yields in bulk.
Reyna spoke neutrally: “I see.”
“You shouldn’t be wandering the estate. Come along; I’ll escort you back to the party and you can point out the Arcandor.” A threat lingered in that statement, like she didn’t believe Reyna had arrived with the famous mage. The constable motioned for her to move in front—but her eyes cut to the riverbank only briefly.
Looking for … what? That dark shape?
Then Reyna hadn’t been seeing things.
She opened her mouth to ask—and at that moment, an explosion shattered the air.
The blast shook the forest, sending a smattering of birds screeching into the nighttime sky—a sky suddenly ablaze with orange light. The constable flinched, but Reyna was moving before the echoes had faded, instinct taking over.
Kianthe.
Abandoning the constable, Reyna sprinted through the trees. Fear compounded in her chest as the partygoers’ shock faded and their terror grew. Screams and shouts filtered through the crisp air. The constable’s footsteps pounded behind her, even as the acrid scent of smoke assaulted them. Reyna covered her nose with her sleeve, ducking past the final line of trees.
“Key,” she gasped.
Fire snarled the riverbank, spreading like water from an overturned bucket. The long wooden buffet table was alight, the copious amounts of food igniting fast, too fast. Magic? Or some form of an accelerant?
Copyright © 2024 by Rebecca Thorne
