He grinned at her. “I’ve been busy.”
Jade spoke formally to Mel, unsure how to take the measure of this queen. “His Majesty became my consort three days ago.”
“What majesty?” Dusk demanded. “He’s a commoner.”
“Not after his marriage,” Baz said.
“His marriage is annulled,” Dusk told him.
“My pact was with Ozar.” Jade paused. “Ozar is dead.”
They all looked uneasily at Cobalt. He didn’t seem to talk much. Jade would have felt sorry for his wife, except she was just as alarming. Perhaps he was the brave one, to spend his nights with the reincarnation of a warrior goddess.
Cobalt spoke to Jarid. “You cannot fight my army. You have a treaty with us.”
“The treaty works both ways,” Jarid said. “You cannot fight us.” He nodded toward Jade. “Queen Vizarana has wed a member of my House, through my cousin Muller’s marriage to Chime Headwind. My oath to defend my kin supersedes my treaty to you.”
“You would fight me?” Cobalt demanded.
Jarid met his gaze. “Yes. And I would call on Harsdown.”
Sphere-General Fieldson spoke. “As General of the Harsdown Army, I would recommend we support Aronsdale.”
“I would rather die,” Mel said flatly, “than see my House go to war with itself.” She glared at her husband.
Jade thought surely Cobalt would rebuke her for challenging him in front of three other sovereigns. However, he didn’t seem to follow any protocols except his own. His forbidding face softened when he looked at his wife. Then he turned and spoke to Jarid. “I would not like my father-in-law go to war against me.”
“It would be unfortunate,” Jarid said.
“I have a solution,” Jade said.
They all turned to her, guarded in their response, even her own generals. She hadn’t discussed this with them. She would have preferred to, but she needed to speak before all these growling kings decided to slice up her country among themselves.
“Cobalt defeated Ozar,” Jade said. “It is less clear what army triumphed in the field of battle. Cobalt has won the right to the Onyx Throne but not the Topaz Throne. Let Jazid become a realm of Escar and Taka Mal align with Aronsdale.”
Dusk leaned forward, flushed with anger. “King Cobalt violated a truce of surrender—one he himself called—and murdered the atajazid.”
“I called for no such truce,” Cobalt said. “Why would I surrender when my army was winning?”
Anger snapped in Dusk’s voice. “You came to the atajazid and called on him during battle. The codes of war apply, Escar. It was a truce. You attacked without provocation. You should be tried and executed for war crimes.”
Cobalt watched him with a gaze so dark Jade prayed he never focused it on her. “Your atajazid tortured my wife. He sent a man to tell me she had been whipped to death. He gave me the bloodied clothes he ripped off her body. Off my pregnant wife. My queen and my heir. I consider this provocation to kill him and every general in his army, and to grind Jazid into the earth until nothing remains of its towns, its merchants, its caravans, or its so-called wonders except broken, burnt ground.”
Silence followed his words. Jade had known Ozar was capable of cruelty, but she had never thought he would go so far. She believed Cobalt and his sorceress wife could do what he threatened.
And this time, Mel didn’t refuse him.
In the end, they signed a treaty of unprecedented complexity. Jazid would become Cobalt’s realm. He surprised Jade and spared the lives of the generals and the children of the atajazid. Harsdown, Aronsdale, and Taka Mal established a pact that bound them together. Cobalt agreed not to attack them if they didn’t move against him.
No one bothered to deny the obvious. Cobalt had become the Midnight Emperor. He ruled the Misted Cliffs, Blueshire, Shazire, and Jazid. Someday his wife would rule Harsdown, and the child she carried would reign over it all. Jade expected Cobalt to call his realms after his name—Escar or Chamberlight. Instead, he named it for his wife.
So the Dawn Star Empire was born.
28
The Conscience of a Conqueror
Jade left her bodyguards at the entrance of the Narrow-Sun Hall and walked into the long room alone. The antiqued sunlight of late afternoon slanted through the tall windows. It was hard to believe that only yesterday, four sovereigns had made history in this room. Today, they mourned their dead. Hundreds had fallen. But it could have been far worse; had the fighting not stopped, thousands would have lost their lives. Today they began the painful journey to recovery and the complex process of establishing peace in the settled lands.
The hall wasn’t empty. One soldier stood at its other end, before the tall window, looking at the Rocklands or even farther, to Aronsdale, a misty green line on the horizon. The warrior was alone, imposing in black knee-boots, black leather pants, and no breastplate, just a leather vest with nothing under it. The skimpy vest and tight pants left no doubt about the soldier’s sex; her curves filled out her armor, and her gold hair, brushed now and sleek, fell down her back. Jade would never have thought armor on a female would be sensual, but even she could see why men stopped and stuttered and ran into things when Mel Dawnfield Escar walked by. She was a most unusual woman.
As Jade approached, Mel turned around. Jade joined her at the window, acutely aware of the younger woman’s height. Faced with Mel’s unadorned, spectacular beauty, Jade felt insubstantial, even vulnerable in her emerald silks, with bangles around her neck and wrists, kohl on her eyes and gems in her hair.
Jade inclined her head. “Light of the day, Your Majesty.”
Mel returned the nod. “It is my honor to meet the Atatakamal D’or Vizarana.”
Jade blinked. Jazid kings used their formal title—Atajazid D’az, or Shadow Dragon Prince—but Jade rarely went by Atatakamal D’or, or Dragon-Sun Princess. It was too hard to pronounce, for one thing, besides which, she preferred to be a queen of real humans rather than princess of a mythological dragon.
“We are kin now,” she said. “Please call me Jade.”
The empress nodded, accepting the honor. “I am Mel.”
Jade spoke carefully. “I would wish to begin again.”
Mel regarded her curiously, much as had Fieldson, as if Jade were an exotic wildflower. “Begin again?”
“We have been foes. I would like to begin again, as allies.”
“Ah.” Mel smiled, and it lit up her face, changing the barbarian avenger into a lovely young woman. “Yes. I also.”
“I am glad to meet you,” Jade said. It was true. The Escar queen fascinated her.
Mel spoke quietly. “You have made my uncle happy.”
“As he has me.” Jade wanted to speak of her joy, but she held back. Everything about the empress was reserved, cool, aloof. She was so unlike Drummer. Cobalt and his Dawn Star Empress frightened her.
Mel was watching her face. “Know one thing.”
Jade steeled herself. “Yes?”
“As long as I live,” Mel said softly, “no one will harm my uncle or anyone he loves.” She paused. “Or their country.”
Jade didn’t know how to answer such a declaration, especially given that the empress could make it true. After a moment, when she found her voice, she said, simply, “Thank you.”
Mel nodded. “Honors of the day, Your Majesty.”
Jade needed a moment to interpret the phrase. It was a custom in Aronsdale and Harsdown, a way to indicate respect. Jade set her palm against her collarbone and extended her hand, palm up, the Taka Mal equivalent of the Empress’s farewell. Mel smiled, and her face was transformed like sunlight warming an icy day. Then she left, striding from the hall.
“Saints above,” Jade said, stunned by the empress but relieved the meeting had gone well. She gazed out the window toward Aronsdale. Soon another tread sounded in the hall. She smiled, seeing the reflection of its owner in the window. He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
“Light of the day, my Wife,” Drummer murmured, his greeting in the custom of Taka Mal.
“My greetings, my Husband,” she said, using the Aronsdale custom. She leaned her head back against him, her dragon mage, who had created a myth in the sky to dissuade his kin from conquering her lands. It would take time to understand this side of her husband. But they did, truly, have those years.
For the first time in so long, perhaps in her life, she looked toward the future with a belief that it held happiness as well as duty, that along with the hardships, she would also know joy.
Mel couldn’t find Cobalt. He wasn’t in the citadel or the courtyards. She walked through the town with her guards and found no trace of him. Using a glass sphere from the citadel, she formed emotion spells and focused on him, but they told her little. His moods were diffuse, distant, hard to pinpoint.
She saddled Smoke and rode down the mountain, guards riding behind and ahead of her on the steep trail. When they reached the Rocklands, they pounded across the shattered plain as fast as they could manage while avoiding the fissures and cracks, a mute testimony of the destruction Mel had wrought yesterday. Even now, heat rose from the ground, though the sun was low over the green hills of Aronsdale.
Mel focused another spell on Cobalt. His presence felt stronger. But her mind was tired. She had used all her resources yesterday, and she needed time to recover. It would take time to come to terms with this power. Ozar had jolted to life a part of herself she had too long denied.
She found Cobalt on Admiral, high on a crag that overlooked the battlefield. Warm winds blew his hair across his face, and he brushed it out of his eyes. Her bodyguards stayed back with his guards, giving her and Cobalt as much privacy as they could ever have when they weren’t within the protection of a fortress.
Admiral nickered as Smoke drew alongside of him. Cobalt smiled at Mel, an expression few people ever saw from him. It was barely discernible compared to the passionate responses that came so naturally to the people of Taka Mal, but for Cobalt it was an immense display of emotion.
“Your uncle astonishes me,” Cobalt said.
She knew he meant Drummer. Who would have ever guessed her uncle was a green cube mage? He didn’t seem to realize just how rare a power he held. It came far more gently to him, though, than hers did to her, especially when he played his music. “I think he will enjoy learning his abilities.”
“It is good.” The relaxed cast of his face tightened into a colder expression. “Unlike the situation with certain other people.”
“What people?”
“Tadimaja Pickaxe.”
Mel recognized his look. “You must give him and the others a proper tribunal. You cannot do to them what Ozar did to me.”
“Why the blazes not?”
“Cobalt, don’t.” She wondered if anyone could contain this force that was her husband. “Don’t make me responsible for the torture of other human beings.”
“They are responsible for the crimes they committed.”
“Then put them on trial and let a judge convict them.” She scowled at him. “Be civilized.”
“When I think of what they did to you, I do not feel civilized.”
“Ozar paid with his life, his throne, and his country. They will pay with their freedom and possibly their lives.” She spoke firmly. “It must end there.”
He watched her with his dark look, that one that would have terrified her two years ago. She knew now just to wait.
“Very well,” he finally said. “You have my word.”
Mel would have closed her eyes with relief, except she didn’t want to stop looking at him. “Thank you.”
“My mother agrees with you about Baker, you know.”
She didn’t know where that came from. “About a baker?”
“Baker Lightstone. The former king of Blueshire. Or mayor, you claim.”
“Your mother thinks he was a mayor?”
“No,” he growled. “She agrees he should govern Blueshire.”
Ah. Mel smiled. “Your mother is very wise.”
“I hope so. Shazire needs wisdom.”
“You will make her governor of Shazire?”
“If she agrees.” He squinted at her. “If the idea is good.”
“It’s excellent.”
“Well. So.” He paused. “I will send Leo Tumbler and many troops to govern Jazid.”
“Another good choice.” Mel suspected the military presence in Jazid would be important for years to come.
Cobalt was silent for a while. Then he indicated a group of men searching among the crags and fissures on the plain below. “They’re looking for—well, for anything that remains.”
She knew he meant bodies. “You must stop this warring.”
“Do you remember what you said to me about conscience?”
Mel would never forget. “You told me that if you ever went too far, I should pull you back. I said, ‘Do not ask me to be the conscience of a conqueror.’”
“And yet, you are.”
“You have a conscience.” But she also remembered what else Cobalt had told her that morning, before he rode into Blueshire: I cannot stop being what I am.
“To conquer is easy,” Mel said. “That challenge is to lead well. You can be a good leader. A great leader. It’s time to silence Stonebreaker’s voice. Don’t let his legacy drive you to darkness when you’re so much more than you know.”
Cobalt didn’t answer at first, he just looked at her as if memorizing her face. Then he said, “My eyes are getting worse. In a few years, I will need glasses all the time.” He smiled drily. “I can’t be a warrior with spectacles. They might get broken.”
She knew that in his own oblique way, he was responding by telling her that he would no longer lead his armies out to war. And saints almighty, he was teasing her. She hadn’t thought he knew how. Yet it came from a kernel of truth. She had tried to heal his eyes, but they weren’t injured and didn’t respond to spells. If they continued to change as he aged, in ten or fifteen years he wouldn’t see well enough to effectively lead an army. He could turn over many tasks to Agate Cragland or another officer, but she knew he would feel those changes as deep losses.
Mel gentled her voice. “Spectacles make a king look wise.”
He snorted, but she could tell her response pleased him. He motioned at the men below them. “I see them fine. That is Matthew in the brown trousers and green shirt.”
She peered at the man. It was indeed Matthew. Yes, Cobalt could still see well enough—yet he missed the obvious.
Matthew Quietland had been born at Castle Escar, the son of a seamstress for a former Harsdown king, Cobalt’s grandfather. Matthew was one year older than Varqelle, the king’s only son.
His only legitimate son.
Had Matthew been born on the other side of the sheets, he would have sat on the throne instead of Varqelle, for his true father had been the Jaguar King. Varqelle had been a prince, Matthew a stable boy. Matthew had gone with Dancer to the Misted Cliffs, so he and Varqelle had lived in different countries for most of their adult lives. Varqelle died only a few months after he came into Cobalt’s life, so Varqelle and Matthew hadn’t been together enough for people to note the similarity. Mel had seen, aided by her mood spells, but at Matthew’s request, she had sworn never to reveal the truth.
Cobalt had heard rumors of Varqelle’s cruelty to Dancer, his child bride. He would never know it had driven her to seek solace in the arms of a stable boy. Varqelle’s mistress discovered the queen’s infidelity and threatened to reveal the truth if her rival didn’t leave. In Harsdown at that time, the penalty for a queen’s adultery was death—for herself, her lover, and any child of that union. Dancer had fled to the Misted Cliffs to save the lives of her son and his father.
Cobalt spoke in a low rumble. “To silence Stonebreaker’s voice within me—it is not so easy, Mel.”
It took her a moment to realize he was responding to her previous comment. “Stonebreak
er saw the truth, that you were more than him. His jealousy consumed him.”
He answered in an oddly distant voice. “Have you never wondered why he took no other wife after my grandmother died?”
“I assumed he didn’t like marriage.” Stonebreaker’s fondness for concubines had been well known.
“He hated the Castle of Clouds,” Cobalt said.
She wondered what he was trying to tell her. “Because you and Dancer went there to escape him, yes?”
“In part.” He stared at the Rocklands. “My grandmother died in a fall above the castle.”
“I hadn’t realized it happened there.”
“He never spoke of it.” After a long moment, he said, “Until the night he died.”
Mel went very still. “Everyone knows it was an accident.”
“Of course they know,” he said bitterly. “He said it was an accident. He was the king.”
Mel knew of Stonebreaker’s violence, had even experienced it herself. But to kill his wife? Surely he wouldn’t lose control and go that far. “Your grandfather was one of the most controlled people I’ve ever met.”
“And controlling.” Cobalt shifted his haunted gaze to her. “How do you think a man like that would feel if he discovered he couldn’t sire an heir?”
Her heart was beating as hard as if she were running. “But he had a child. Dancer.”
Cobalt regarded her steadily. “Certainly he would never discover Dancer was actually the child of his valet, that the only reason he had a daughter was because his isolated, beaten wife had slept with another man.”
Mel stared at him. Had admitting he couldn’t sire an heir been even worse to Stonebreaker than acknowledging as his heir a boy who didn’t carry his blood? Saints help him, had he killed his own wife to keep that secret?
“Cobalt—” What Stonebreaker had inflicted on him the night he died was even worse than she had thought. “He lied to you. To hurt you.”
“It is only a story.” His voice caught. “Nothing more. In the story, the queen dies and the valet disappears.”