Luca pivoted fully to this man. He was easy to pick out, face red from shouting, others shifting their attention from his outburst to their Otsakumea. Luca wet his lips to respond, Amarande’s fingers tightening in his grip. But Tala raised a palm in appeasement. “The Otsakumea has had a long ride—”
“From a soft bed inArdenia!” Another shout.
“TheWarrior Queen’sbed!” clarified another to an echoing titter. “Look how he clasps her hand! My parents were beholden to his but I would sayheis beholden toher! Where does that leave us?!”
Luca caught Amarande’s stunned expression just as Tala raised both arms overhead now for attention, just as he’d done in the resistance underground. “Now, see here—”
“No,” Luca said, cuffing Tala’s knobby shoulder. He projected his voice to the crowd. “I will answer your questions now.”
Without another word, he hopped up to the erected dais. Amarande immediately followed. Ula and Urtzi, too. The Ardenian soldiers dismounted and made a move to join them, but Amarande waved them off. Instead, the men and women held a line between the queen’s spot on the dais and the crowd, on alert. It wasn’t the best reintroduction to the Ardenian military, but it was to be expected with the queen in attendance. Luca hoped these people—his people—would understand.
Tala handed a waterskin up to Luca, and he uncorked it, ready to take a swig to better project his voice, when another scream came from those crowding the dais.
“Go ahead, drink, my Otsakumea! And as that water hits your lips, think of the Cardenas Scar. It still weeps poison, and now it’s rotten with death.”
“I don’t want to drink death water,do you?” someone else loudly exclaimed.
“That water is death!”
Luca held up both hands, waterskin and all, placating.
“I have conferred with the best Torrentian healers, and they are already working to clarify the Cardenas Scar of any remaining poison. They have also removed the victims’ bodies and given them funeral rites.” Luca nodded, hoping someone here had seen Naiara and her ilk at the watering hole and could provide secondary confirmation. “Does that answer your question?”
He met the first speaker in the eyes, and, surprisingly the man dipped his head in an affirmative nod, fading slightly into the people gathered at his back. Luca nodded back and turned his attention to the crowd, still spilling in—it was a writhing, slow-moving stream, bodies materializing from every nook and cranny.
“Good people of Torrence, I am Luca.” Here, he pulled aside his tunic, the five points of his wolf tattoo as stark and shimmering as the black of midnight in the white sunlight and clear blue sky of a Torrence afternoon.“Hitz ematen dizut.”
“Your honor is nothing with the Warrior King’s daughter by your side!”
As yet another barb landed, Luca realized he’d been prepared for it, had known that at this point, no matter what he said, he would not placate anyone who wished to pick a fight. Ula, Urtzi, and Tala stood by, silent and unhelpful even with the knowledge they’d gleaned from their travels. But he could do this—it was his job, and these people demanded a leader who would do it well.
“I am here to answer your questions,” Luca replied, calm and careful as he felt Amarande’s rage growing over his shoulder—she wanted to protect him, but there wasn’t a single reason to deflect these worthy comments despite their barbed delivery, “andI willif you let me, as I just did for this man who asked about the Cardenas Scar.” Luca paused here, pointed, laying the ground rules for the ebb and flow of this conversation. “You’ve asked me where it leaves you that I have brought Queen Amarande with me to this meeting. The answer is simple: It leaves you with an ally.”
“That’s what your father thought!” Another voice.
“And look at him! We stand upon Lotyoa’s ashes!” Another.
“Stop!” Tala’s frustration flared now, and he hopped onto the dais,with the lithe movements of a much younger man. Arms waving, voice thundering, his welcoming diplomacy vanished. “Stop with the interruption! Let the Otsakumea speak. It has been a very, very long time since any of you have been able to truly question authority. I know that, we all know that. But it does nothing if you do not let him speak. Thousands of people have joined us to hear what the Otsakumea has to say. Let him speak.Thenask him questions and I assure you he will answer them all to the best of his ability. But if you cannot afford him a chance to share his point of view and thoughts, you will learn nothing and either grow more fearful or more stupid. Give him a chance now. Hear him.”
Tala’s full-throated plea was nearly magnetic. Sealing the mouths of those who heckled, attracting those who had not yet made it to the dais, all ears and eyes and breath pointed toward him and the stage. Tala now reverted to prepared and formal words.
“We have gathered here today to formally acknowledge our long-lost Otsakumea, the last of the Otxoa, Luca.” Tala’s voice was loud and commanding, and reflected exactly everything he had been as leader of the resistance for so long. His temper had receded now, but his power did not wane. “He comes to us on a raft of hope, having defeated the Warlord with a single, crushing blow. Make no mistake, the Kingdom of Torrence has risen, and our Otsakumea will see us past the lost last seventeen years and into a new and prosperous future.”
After a moment, the longtime leader of the resistance moved to the side, and Luca took a step forward. Gazed into the faces of his people. Young and old, every one of them looked just like him: dark hair, burnished skin, and bodies built from hard work and movement under the bright wide sky. He didn’t know how many of them had fought for the Warlord before, nor did he care. Every single one of them deserved another chance at a life here. One without fear or firepits, or faceless rulers. One full of peace and freedom, and community.
And he told them just that.
“It was not my expectation that I would become a king someday,” Luca answered after accepting the mantle through formal language adapted from Amarande’s own coronation. “I grew up an orphan, a stableboy with a strange scrawl of ink on my chest, and a found familywho kept a roof over my head, made sure I stayed fed, and taught me how to cross swords and read letters. Yet, I stand before you a king.”
He expected another outburst. Perhaps something about how these people had been half-starved, without shelter, education deficient—all fair. Instead, there was the smallest bit of applause. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Moreover, the crowd was calm enough that Amarande’s parchment timeline was now being successfully distributed.
“Understand that I will do everything in my power to ensure the Kingdom of Torrence is rebuilt safely, and efficiently, with its people at its heart. I am not the heart of this kingdom, I am merely the mouthpiece. Every last one of you is the heart and soul. And that is true whether you fought beside the Warlord years ago, or much more recently. We all do what we must to survive, and we are all able to adapt and change and grow. If you fought against me, against Tala, against the resistance, and yet you are here now, you are welcome. Your heart, minds, and opinions are welcome. The Torrence we are making is for everyone.”
Again, applause—a little more this time. The wind kicked up from the direction of the Oiartzun Forest, sand and dust swirling around them as if the land itself approved. A few leaves of timeline parchment caught flight and flew through the crowd, wings clipped by nimble hands.
“I ask that we be patient with ourselves,” Luca said, now back to feeling out the words he’d prepared for the people he loved, as angry and frustrated as they were. He knew their ire wasn’t directed at him, but at the situation. He couldn’t and didn’t blame them. “Rebuilding will take time—a long time. I wish I could clap my hands and return Torrence to its previous glory. To return all the cities and homesteads that were lost to the Warlord. To return the Otxazulo to a place by the people, for the people, where you can call upon me and I will hear and treat your frustrations as they come.” That was something he was keen on—the people were his equal. King Sendoa thought this way and Amarande made it clear she would build upon it. So would he. “All of those things and more will come in time, but in this moment, I want to focus on the immediate changes you will see now and in the weeks to come.”
There was no applause in this pause, simply rapt, undivided attention. This was perhaps the best response yet. Finally. Surely.
