Page 50 of The War Queen's Daughter

“I’ve learned far more than that,” I tell her. Mother pauses, despite herself. “A small force, a quick and decisive move. They are as soft as you think.”

She knows exactly what I’m suggesting. Do I mean it? I’m not sure, even if it did cross my mind. I’m offering alternatives on purpose to soften the edges of her demands. And as her eyes narrow, as my aunt inhales a breath to speak, my mother, my queen, waves her sister’s response off.

With her dark eyes locked on mine, Mother smiles, her predator rising to the surface. “How grand it would be,” she breathes to me, making me a confidant in her pleasure, in her imagination. This is not the first time she’s thought of it either, is it? “They would be so helpless before us. How easy it would be to simply take what is ours.” Mother’s hand rises, snapping into a fist between us. “Glory to Heald.”

“Glory to Heald,” I murmur without thinking, my aunt echoing me, suddenly terrified of my mother all over again.

She laughs this time, but she’s the only one, before hugging me again. “What a daughter I have made!” When she releases me, she’s softer, amused, and relaxed, all of her tension released. I’ve pleased her and she embraces it, shedding her cloak, parts ofher armor, the clang of releasing buckles under her breastplate loud in the quiet. The heavy metal thuds to the carpet as she sheds it, one piece at a time, while my aunt and I watch, neither of us moving.

When Mother is done, she sprawls in her thin undershirt and leggings on the purple divan, gesturing for me to join her. I do, sitting beside her. She plays with the end of my braid, something she hasn’t done since I was very small.

“We will try diplomacy one more time,” she says to me as her sister sits across from us and listens. “One more chance I give them to honor the promises they made.”

“And when they fail?” Aunt’s cynicism has me wishing she’d try to be a bit less so. Because I know where this is going. I am a daughter of Heald, and I have spent my life knowing, I think.

“Then Remalla’s suggestion is our last step,” Mother says with that slow, wicked smile on her face. “And we will take not just what was promised, but all of it.” She shrugs. “They’ve had their chances. They will find out my patience has its limit at last. They will wish they did as they said they would before this is done.”

Before I can respond, a servant enters, bowing low. “Queen Jhanette,” she murmurs, her voice trembling, and now I’m anxious because what did she overhear? Mother appears unconcerned, however, so I stay still and quiet and let the serving girl speak. “The Overking has made time for you. He requests your presence. Immediately.”

Mother waves her off. “Tell him I’ll be with him once I’ve bathed,” she says. “So as not to offend his Chancellor’s delicate nose.”

The girl splutters. She can’t deliver that message. But the queen gives her no options.

As she hurries out, I sigh, a release I didn’t plan on.

Mother just squeezes my knee as she rises from the divan and stretches. I’ve seen her happy, eager. Right before battle. This is her war mode, and like it or not, the Overking had better prepare for just that.

She strides out, her aura of defiant power leaving with her, heading for the back of the chamber and through a doorway. The wafting steam from within has to mean she’s at least gone to do as she claimed, her private bath waiting for her. The sound of splashing reaches us through the closed door I’m staring at as though taking my eyes from it is impossible.

I’m frozen in place, locked here until my mother returns.

It’s my aunt’s touch, as she joins me on the divan, that finally frees me. “What have I done?”

She strokes stray hair back from my cheek with a grim smile. “Nothing your mother hasn’t already considered at length,” she tells me. “You’ve just suggested the very thing she’s longed for since her service and sacrifice was first betrayed.” Aunt sighs and leans away, dark eyes far away. “If it comes to it, Remalla…”

If it comes to invading the headland, killing the Overking, taking the throne, and the whole of Protoris, she means.

“For Heald,” I whisper.

“For Heald,” she says. Then stands, helping herself to her own glass of wine. “She’s been playing a very long, very dangerous game all these years.” Aunt’s voice is low, laced with a deep worry. She glances at the bath chamber door, then back at me, her dark eyes filled with a concern that touches me. “And so have I.” Her pause after that statement pairs with a frown that creases her brow. Why does she look guilty in a wave of emotion that has her turning away? “I’ve done things, Remi. Things I’m not proud of. For Heald.”

Where did she ride in from? One of those things she’s not proud of? “We both have,” I say.

Aunt doesn’t argue, though she does breathe in deeply, shoulders back, head up, before she spins back and flashes me her familiar smile. “Only and ever for our homeland,” she says, saluting me with her wine. “Now, before she returns, tell me what you know.”

I adore my aunt. Idolize her even. There was a time when I would have told her everything. The fear I have for my mother pairs with my awe of the queen, but what I feel for the general who has loved me like a second parent is vastly different.

And yet, I have changed, I must admit, since I’ve come here to Winderose, and I find myself guarded even with my caring and supportive aunt. I tell her what I think she needs to know, of Vae and the other princesses, reiterating the intent of the kingdoms to find a way to crush Heald if they can. I tell her of Amber’s support and guidance, her advice that seems to be sound. I mention my interactions with Chancellor Hallick and his offer of alliance. That makes her snort.

“He’d fuck a rock if it was warm and had a place to put his dick.” So, she knows him well, then? Has she been that rock a time or two I wonder? “Go on.”

I recount the attack in the bath, though as she questions me keenly about my attacker, I don’t mention that I feel strongly that I know who tried to drown me. In fact, when she comes out and asks if I have guesses, I shrug.

“The princesses are determined to end me somehow,” I say. “It’s likely one of them.”

She seems to accept my suggestion, nodding and pouring more wine.

“You are stronger than anyone believes,” Aunt says, voice vibrating. “I am and will always be so proud of the woman you have become.” When she meets my eyes, hers are rimmed in tears. “I love you as a daughter, Remalla. Never forget that.”

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