Page 25 of Crown of the Dunes

I nodded, not knowing what else to say. She was right. As much as so many of my feelings were confused—rage at the queen for what she had done to Erix, a strange homesickness for the open land behind walls, an unyielding ache to find a home among these people—I knew I would not let Kelvadan fall, especially when it was threatened from all sides. Worst of all, I still ached for Erix—for his presence in my mind and his touch on my skin, even as he was the threat to Kelvadan that loomed largest in my mind.

Queen Ginevra unfolded her hands and spread her fingers as she stared at them. “One thing I have learned, is that to be a queen is to murder the woman inside you again and again. Whether it is the wife, or the mother, or simply the tenderhearted girl you once were, eventually they all are pushed aside by the decisions the job demands of you.”

“It sounds like a lonely way to live.”

“It can be,” she admitted. “But it’s something I think you already understand. I know you and The Viper—Erix—formed some sort of… understanding when you were out among the dunes. But you essentially just promised you would stand against him to keep my people safe.”

Hearing it in such frank words pierced me through the heart like an arrow. I mentally reached for the tie to Erix, but it evaded my grasp, like guilt had made my fingers slippery.

“That’s why I don’t feel bad about what I’m about to do,” the queen continued, drawing my attention back to her.

“And what is that?”

“I’m going to name you my heir.”

A shatter rent the still afternoon heir as the cut crystal glass slipped through my fingers and splintered on the stone at my feet. My fingers hovered in the air as if they still held the cup, and I looked down at the sparkling shards around my sandaled feet, looking like lethal diamonds.

“Why?” The word tumbled out of my mouth, even as I sat frozen. One of the shards of glass had cut my ankle, and a rivulet of blood now dripped down the arch of my foot to mingle with crystalline shards.

Blood and glass.

“I need to have a successor in place,” Queen Ginevra said calmly, clearly not shaken by my shock. “I am hopeful that I will make a full recovery, but I cannot remove the people’s doubts.”

“Why not Aderyn?” I asked, finally looking up. Surely the queen was joking or testing me or had lost her wits in the midst of her illness.

“She is good at what she does, and she will continue to be the backbone this city needs. But the people need somebody to believe in. Already division is growing in the streets. You must have seen it in the mob outside the city. People were ready to spill each other’s blood, doing our enemies’ work for them. Whoever put that message there, they wanted violence.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. While many in the crowd had tapped their brow to me when I announced that I would protect them, there had been murmurs of discontent. A dozen or so, including the one man who had almost started a duel, had turned their backs and left. Blood had nearly been spilled without enemies from outside the city having to draw their swords at all. The discontent in the city was the sharpest weapon our enemies had at their disposal.

Whoever had uncovered the truth of Erix’s identity and painted it for all to see hadn’t been a friend of Kelvadan. A few ideas of who it might be already sprang to mind. After all, Doran had tried to sow division in the desert once before.

“The people of Kelvadan don’t just need a leader, they need a symbol. My advisors tell me a small number have left the city to join the united clans. They claim the desert would be angered further to deny the descendent of Kelvadan, her chosen favorite, the crown. While their numbers are few, there are even more who remain in the city but are unsure, feeding on whispers of unrest.”

Queen Ginevra sighed like she carried the weight of the mountain behind us on her back. “Making the line of succession clear will be a balm to their doubts. Uncertainty has made them afraid, and their fear pushes them to anger and violence. You have already made a name for yourself, first at the Trials, then by slaying Lord Alasdar. Many even argue that you should have been named Champion under the old ways. If magic was still allowed in the Trials, you may very well have won your dual against Erix. And in the days before Kelvar’s line took up leadership of the Great City, the desert’s Champion was the closest thing there was to royalty. The champion’s circlet is the closest thing we have to a crown. In the eyes of many, your performance in the Trials makes you the next in line to rule Kelvadan.” She smiled sadly. “The people’s faith in me has been shaken. But when they look at you, they see hope.

“And maybe, I have not killed the woman in me as thoroughly as I had thought. The way you have spoken about Erix gives me some hope too—hope that maybe my son can come home.”

I looked down, certain one of the pieces of shattered glass had somehow lodged itself in my chest but found my tan vest undisturbed.

“How can I give anybody hope when I feel so uncertain?” I asked, a quaver in my voice.

“You do what queens do, and lead in spite of your doubts.”

I desperately wanted the queen to take it back, to say she had changed her mind and relieve me of the burden of being her successor. Because if she asked it of me, I would not say no. Despite all she had done, I did trust her in this.

She may not have been a perfect mother, but she was a good queen to her people. Ginevra would not make this choice lightly.

I nodded.

“All right, I’ll do it. For Kelvadan.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” The queen’s slight smile returned. “If things go as I hope they will, I will be able to avert the coming crises before you ever take the crown. But knowing you are ready to succeed me may just quell unrest and dissuade Viltov and Doran, who are both sniffing at our gates for weakness.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

And may I not have to wear the crown for many years yet.

Chapter six