The Forged King

Marina cautiously entered the queen’s chambers. She’d come here once before, after first displaying power. She mostly remembered Clarisse’s disappointed expression.

She bowed as soon as the door closed behind her.

“What do you want from me, your majesty?”

“Come,” the queen said, gesturing at the table in front of her, “Eat with me.”

The dishes were some of Marina’s favorites, the ones she would subtly ask for every time she stopped in the kitchen to chat with the chefs.

“I know you did not request these for yourself,” Marina insisted, “Please spare me any manipulation and tell me plainly what you want from me.”

Clarisse smiled.

“It is a shame to lose your wisdom, Marina, especially to Renue.”

“Would you rather someone unwise be there to incite old foes to war?”

“Perhaps someone with a bit more tact.”

Marina looked away.

“Sit down,” Clarisse said, “That’s an order.”

Marina sat.

“Solam is still an old friend of mine,” Clarisse explained, “Which is why he has told me ahead of time that Ilva has broken the great treaty.”

This had to be about Garret.

“How have they broken it?”

“Ariana lives, along with a second child. Apparently they’re fugitives.”

“Garret Kitaba.” Marina concluded.

“And how did you know that name?”

“He’s the one who came to me for a record of that visit to the Forge. Before that text, he used his mother’s surname, and I noticed Ivy’s servant when they came here had red eyes.”

Clarisse’s eyes widened.

“And you didn’t think it wise to tell me?”

“Better to keep the truth secret, then boldly claim a falsehood.”

Clarisse gave an approving nod.

“This will lead to war,” she said, “And we can’t let Renue take advantage of it before our treaty is set.”

That explained the feast Marina still hadn’t touched. This was not a favor to convince her of a task. This was a ritual: the bride’s last meal with her family before the wedding. Did Neri refuse?

“Does Prince Ingvi know?” she asked. Even if she disliked him, she’d prefer all rituals done before the wedding.

“I wanted to be sure you understood before informing them of your wishes.”

It wasn’t that she had the right to refuse, but Clarisse had to be sure Marina wouldn’t run away.

“Will there be a true final meal, or are you the only family for me to leave?”

She and Neri hadn’t spoken much since Tessa left, and Clarisse wouldn’t dare reveal who Marina’s father was.

“We can invite Neri, if you would like.” Clarisse said softly, “Perhaps another you would consider family.”

Tessa was in Draconis, Ivy was about to go to war, and no matter her fondness for the servants, none would be accepted at the Queen’s table.

Well, one might.

“Mirsham has been a great teacher to me.”

Clarisse’s expression darkened.

“It would be dangerous to invite anyone around my age to this ceremony.”

Of course. Mirsham had been at quiet odds with the queen since Marina could remember, but that didn’t mean rumors wouldn’t occur if Marina invited him for a familial rite.

“Then I suppose Neri is the only family left.”

He was called forthwith, and Marina did her best to enjoy the meal, knowing it might be her last chance to enjoy the dishes. The fact lingered that this marriage guaranteed nothing of peace, and Ingvi might just use it as the right fuel for war.

She would have to do her best for Mineria.

“I am sending my daughter to become your son’s bride,” Clarisse said to King Gandr, and more importantly to the denizens of Renue that were watching, “Treat her well, for she is now your family.”

Clarisse gave her an uncomfortable hug, as did Neri.

Marina walked over to the Snows.

“I will treat her like my own,” Gandr said, “May this union act as harbinger of peace between our nations.”

She was ushered into the castle, and left alone with Ingvi in a random hall.

“Why rush this marriage?” he asked.

“You’ve constantly been on the verge of backing out, I tired of the accusations.”

He scrutinized her carefully.

“Is whatever you’re not telling me a threat to Renue or to Mineria?”

She didn’t need to admit specifics, but treating him like an enemy would not end well.

“Neither, if this marriage goes through.”

“Very well.”

He left her alone as if she could find where she was meant to go.

“Greetings Princess Marina,” A woman with yellowish blond hair against a slightly warmer face than the royal family bowed at her side, “I am Pippa, your lady-in-waiting.”

“Greetings,” Marina gave a nod, “Am I expected anywhere?”

Pippa shook her head.

“Shall I take you to your rooms?”

Marina had no idea if she could trust Pippa at all, but it wasn’t like she had anyone else to rely on. Threats would not be useful if nothing threatening had happened yet.

“Please do.”

Pippa began walking, and Marina followed. Assuming her resources were accurate, it would not be shameful to let someone of lower rank guide you, but you must stand confidently, so she made sure not to slouch.

“Your room,” Pippa explained, “Is currently a diplomatic guest room, the one traditionally used for Mineria, but the evening before the ceremony, you will be moved to the chambers connecting to Prince Ingvi’s room.”

Marina nodded. She was aware the couple were expected to have connected quarters, or even sleep in the same bed, before the ceremony to make it harder to back out. The door connecting them would even remain unlocked.

“I was informed, yes.”

“You didn’t bring much from Mineria, so we took the liberty of stocking your closet with clothes. Those will also be moved the night before of course, though the wedding dress you brought is already in the adjoining room.”

That meant they could adjust it however they wanted and she would be none the wiser.

“And my jewelry?”

“With the wedding dress. Metal isn’t—”

“Have it all moved to the room where I am staying. I’ll feel naked without even a necklace.”

Most of the pieces didn’t have any metal. Mineria’s jewelers made beads out of shells, pearls, and other items found in the depths, then connected them with reinforced string. They would do little to help with the temperature, but she needed something more than just the ring to wear.

Pippa finally stood by a door, and bowed again.

“Of course, your highness.”

Marina gestured for her to open the door, then entered the chamber. It was the same one her mother would call her and Neri to at the end of each day when a council was held in Renue. It was where she’d been told she would marry Ingvi.

“I would like some time alone,” she said.

Pippa closed the door, and Marina had no clue if she’d actually walked away, but collapsed onto the bed nonetheless.

If she were a more sentimental person, she would probably be crying. This would be a bad marriage, and she would return to Mineria maybe once every few years.

The room was too cold to serve her small fantasy of Reuben being the groom at the end. At this point he might have been the more perilous option if Phoenix was going to start a war.

How would Ingvi feel when he figured out their rushed marriage was because of Reuben’s father? He’d certainly see the irony in it, but would it be grating or gratifying?

“Marina?”

She bolted upright, turning toward the voice that couldn’t be real.

Reuben Forge talked to her through the mirror on her nightstand. She immediately turned it down.

“Sorry,” he said, slightly muffled, “I wasn’t looking, if you’re indecent.”

With the amount of layers she needed to wear in Renue, she was probably more “decent” than Reuben had ever seen her.

“Why are you calling me?” she asked.

“I can’t reach Ivy, or…” he breathed deeply, “I hope I can trust you.”

He was planning to warn Ilva. She finally brought the mirror back up to look him in the eye. He wore strange garb in front of a background that didn’t look like Phoenix.

“What you are planning is an act of treason,” she insisted, “I cannot implicate—”

“My mother is in Ilva. I need her and my brother to know I’m safe, and no longer in Phoenix. I’m not even on the same world as Phoenix.”

Marina heard a woman’s laughter behind him.

“Are you on Earth?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes,” he said, “Though I shouldn’t say more than that.”

Reuben had run away from Solam. Did anyone else know?

“I cannot contact Ivy, or anyone else. I am to be married in a week, and you are the last person I should be talking to.”

She ended the call like she should have the moment she heard his voice.

She checked the back of the mirror, as if she could know if the runes contained any amount of tracking in them.

She collapsed back on the bed.

Why was this a bigger secret than a war?

Marina had never been fond of the food in Renue, the experience only made worse by King Gandr demanding she join him and Ingvi for every meal, sometimes with Duke Anarri as well.

“Phoenix has attacked Ilva,” Anarri revealed on the second meal of the fourth day, “Apparently they’ve been hiding the Forge Queen and her other child this whole time.”

“Who’s the other child?” Ingvi asked as Marina focused harder on her food.

“Word’s not out yet on that front.”

“Are they even Solam’s?” Gandr asked.

“Perhaps her affair was with an Elf and not an Air Mage,” Ingvi added.

“Marina,” Gandr said, drawing her attention, “You have been close to Princess Ivy, what do you know of all this?”

He wouldn’t accept an answer of nothing, and it wasn’t like the secret would remain for long.

“Ivy had a servant with her at the last council whose voice was similar to Reuben’s.”

“That proves he’s not a prince,” Ingvi said.

“Unless he was disguised for some reason,” Anarri countered, “Perhaps to meet with his brother in secret.”

Hit the nail on the head. Anarri was the smartest Snow at the table.

“Assuming it wasn’t all tragic coincidence,” Marina said.

“Tragic indeed,” Anarri added, “The trees of their palace were destroyed in the attack, and I can’t imagine Solam would leave the residences below untouched, so the Sylvans may all be gone.”

Marina focused on steady breath. The Sylvans were a large family, and the youngest wasn’t even a year old. Solam couldn’t, could he?

Marina looked at the dress. Her hosts had insisted she wear something further under it, claiming she’d freeze. They were probably right, with the thin lace made to look like snowflakes.

She was still cold, frankly.

“Your highness.”

She turned to the intruder before sighing in relief. It was only Mirsham.

“What is it?”

“I offer a gift, with love from all who have served you in the past.”

It was a decent sized glass pendant dotted with runes. She held it up to the light, unsure what it said. She should avoid wearing it until she could hide it in her jewelry.

“This is a great kindness, but why invade my privacy for it?”

“I wished to speak with you.”

Marina took a step away.

“You can’t talk me out of this marriage, not after what happened in Ilva.”

“When you have to leave,” he said, “Because you will not be able to remain in the good graces of someone who never welcomed you into them—come to me.”

“What?”

If this marriage didn’t work, she would return to Mineria, advise Neri or run the household for him if he failed to find a desirable partner.

“You know as well as I that your mother has wanted me gone a long time. I have been preparing a place to live on Earth, even made arrangements for employment. I will keep you safe, Marina, even after your mother abandons you.”

Her mother wouldn’t go so far as abandonment, disownment.

She would if it was war on the line.

“Is this offer extended to Neri as well?”

Mirsham shook his head.

“No.”

Marina didn’t dare think of why she would be respected and not her brother. The servants were all fond of her after all, so fond they sent a necklace through their court wizard, a necklace only he could make.

“I will remember your offer, should I ever need it.” She offered a final bow.

Mirsham returned the gesture and disappeared.

She should have asked what the necklace did before he left.

She took a deep breath.

Three hours until she was married. Eleven hours until her wedding night.

She would truly be a consort after this, managing the household, bearing and raising an heir, diplomatic hosting…

The necklace tingled in her hand. She hoped it wouldn’t explode in her face, but that was unlikely.

It felt concentrated in one direction, so she looked that way, only to see a gaping Reuben in the mirror.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He regained composure, leaning on the frame of his mirror.

“I made a new mirror, but I still can’t contact my family, so I’ve come to you again.”

He looked happy, and that made her furious.

“Your father has invaded Ilva.”

His smile disappeared at that reveal.

“Do you know if—”

“If he had found your mother and brother, he would have announced his victory and taken Ilva to trial for hiding them.”

He should have taken them to trial in the first place, to require a peaceful transfer. His insistence on attack was concerning.

“Good,” Reuben said.

She knew if he had run to Earth then things must have turned sour between Reuben and Solam, but as long as Ariana and Garret were out of Solam’s reach, people would die.

“How is that good?”

Reuben seemed to be gauging the consequences of something.

“My father’s chief advisor, Sophron, is manipulating him with the power of a mind mage, using my family as instigators in his whims.”

“Have you told—”

“My father said I was accusing him of incompetency, and if I had done it in front of more witnesses, it would mean challenging him to a duel, and I’m sure Sophron would have insured I didn’t survive.”

“Why is it a good thing for Ariana and Garret not to be there? Surely she’d have enough influence on him to—”

“If she had more influence than Sophron, you wouldn’t be in that dress.”

She looked down. Reuben kept making her forget anything else. It was probably for the best that she was marrying Ingvi instead.

She heard muttering outside the door.

“I have not been able to communicate with Garret and Ivy. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”

“What do you know?” His eyes plead for some good news, but she had none.

“Nothing to give you hope.”

She tried to stop the call, but it stayed.

“I have as much ability to communicate with them as you do, now leave!”

Reuben motioned with his hand as Ingvi opened the door. Marina did her best to look like she was near the end of her preparations.

“Don’t pretend with me,” Ingvi said, “I saw everything.”

Best to admit what she could.

“He messaged me in the hope I could get a message to his mother and brother. I told him his father attacked Ilva, and I had no better chance of communicating with them than he did.”

“Did he tell you his brother’s name?”

“No,” she said.

“Wasn’t it you who insisted we trust each other?” Ingvi grabbed her new pendant from her hands, “Is this from him?”

“No.” She didn’t bother reaching for it.

It was shot out of Ingvi’s hand by a blast of water. They both turned to see Mirsham.

“Two men in your room before I was,” Ingvi noted, “And you’re mad I don’t trust you.”

Marina held her fury as best she could.

“Neither of them—”

“I don’t want excuses, Marina. I don’t need placation, I need an apology, which you’ll never give me.”

“I have nothing—”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for, but your court wizard made an attack on me, merely for looking at a piece of my fiance’s jewelry.”

“And I’ll do it again if you ever try to harm one of my students.”

Marina scowled at Mirsham. Of all the times not to care about to politics…

“This doesn’t need to come to war, obviously. Either your mother banishes the wizard, or the wedding’s off.”

Before Marina could argue, Ingvi was leaving the room.

“Marina, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let him—”

“Yes, you could!” she insisted, “I understand you’ve been against this marriage, but that doesn’t give you the right to interfere. Did you hide in the room or was the necklace enchanted to warn you if anyone ever took it?”

“Enchantment.”

Mirsham showed as much shame with her as he did with her mother.

“Why won’t you understand that I don’t care what humiliation I suffer if it means peace?”

“Because you won’t understand that humiliation is exactly why this marriage won’t bring peace.”

No. Solam had brought war, and this marriage was a band-aid to keep a long-time enemy from taking advantage.

“Reuben should have stayed dead like we all thought,” Marina muttered, glaring at the mirror.

She went through all political possibilities, knowing her mother’s decision exactly.

“Goodbye, Mirsham,” she righted herself, checking for anything out of place, “I hope your new home serves you better than my old one.”