The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Read online

  Fondling a defeated pawn, the queen considered her next move. She decided to take the red castle with her monk in order to protect her knight. As the trickiest piece on the board, Liandra had an innate fondness for her knights. Moving the ivory monk diagonally across the board, she took the red castle, rescuing the beleaguered knight. Satisfied with her decision, she considered future moves. Chess held so many similarities with life, but the designers of the ancient game had gotten some of the pieces wrong. The tricky moves assigned to the knights should belong to the monks. In real life, the knights were a straightforward lot, solving every problem with the edge of a sword, while the monks, cloaked in the guise of serving a higher power, were ever the devious ones. In the queen’s opinion, the movements of the monks warranted closer scrutiny. She longed to decipher the convoluted strategies of the elusive Grand Master of the Kiralynn Order. Staring at the board, the queen wondered how the game would play out.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts. The queen did not bother to reply. The guards had instructions to admit her guest as soon as she arrived. The outer door opened and closed. From the corner of her eye, the queen watched Princess Katherine bow as she entered the room.

  Keeping her face turned to the board, the queen said, “Do you play?”

  The princess crossed the room with a warrior’s lithe grace and stared down at the chessboard. “Yes, of course.” She fingered a defeated pawn. “My father insisted that my brothers learn to play, saying they needed to learn the art of strategy just as much as the art of the sword.” Shrugging, the princess added, “No one taught me, but I watched anyway. It wasn’t until the master healer came to Castlegard that I had someone to play against.”

  The queen gestured for the princess to take the opposite chair. “You did well to study the game of princes despite the lack of encouragement. Chess keeps the mind sharp, always looking for plots within plots, a skill that is much needed for those who sit a throne.” Setting the captured red castle with the other defeated pieces, the queen added, “There are not many in the Rose Court who can offer us a game worthy of our time. We play a running game with the Master Archivist, although we seldom sit across from each other.” Pausing to study the princess, the queen added, “We are always looking for a new challenge. It is a pity we have not had a chance to test our wits with you across the chessboard. It would be interesting to see how Castlegard plays the game of princes.”

  The princess returned the queen’s stare, a guarded expression on her face.

  The queen let the silence settle across the board. Pine logs snapped and crackled, releasing the scent of a summer forest. The queen studied her guest. “In terms of the chess pieces, how would you describe yourself?”

  The young woman picked up a defeated white pawn. Rubbing her thumb across the carved ivory, she answered, “My father, the king, clearly considers me a pawn, but I see myself as a knight, serving the Light with my sword…but perhaps it is too early in the game to tell where I belong or what the gods intend for me.” In a fervent voice, she whispered, “Do you know where I belong?”

  The question hung in the air, a bridge connecting the two women.

  Once again, the young woman had surprised her. “It is true you started the game as a pawn but it is clear you have a different destiny. Under the guise of a pawn, you march across the board, slipping past the major pieces. First Castlegard, then the Mordant’s men in the wilds of Wyeth…and now you have the attention of the Kiralynn monks.”

  Shock claimed the young woman’s face.

  The queen read between the lines. “So this is not the first you’ve heard of the Kiralynn monks.”

  The princess took a deep breath. “Just yesterday, in my bedchambers, I found a scroll bearing the monks’ seal.”

  More proof that the monks had spies within her castle. She’d long suspected it yet the truth hit hard. Liandra resolved to ferret them out. “Do you have any idea why the monks are so interested in you?”

  “No. Castlegard has never had any dealings with the monks. I know very little about them.”

  Hearing truth in the young woman’s words, the queen allowed herself a small laugh. “The monks would have us believe there is very little to know, yet they keep their fingers on the pulse of power in the southern kingdoms. Quite an amazing feat for monks who supposedly lead a cloistered life behind the distant walls of their mountain monastery.”

  Seeing the look of puzzlement on the princess’s face, the queen explained, “From time to time, the Rose Crown receives messages from the Grand Master of the Kiralynn Order. The messages often seem irrelevant or obscure on first reading but experience has shown that they are always of great import.” Picking up a defeated white pawn, the queen said, “For the first time in recent history, we received two scrolls from the monks bearing identical messages.” Studying the princess, the queen said, “Both scrolls request that a Princess Katherine of Castlegard be sent to the Southern Mountains for fostering. So I will ask you again, why are the monks so interested in you?”

  “Their scroll offered a compelling argument for fostering at their monastery…though I confess I am confused by the depth of their knowledge. The scroll implies there are some things only the monks can teach…so perhaps I should go to their monastery and see what they have to offer.”

  “So will you go?”

  “I know very little about them. What do you advise?”

  Pleased with the question, Liandra replied, “The monks are too mysterious for our liking. Their objectives are not obvious, yet it seems they serve the Light.” Pausing, the queen added, “You are of royal birth, but duty has not yet claimed you. Perhaps you are meant to travel this road. You have our leave to go or to stay as you see fit. The choice is yours. But remember, the monks’ words are not to be taken lightly.” Gesturing toward the board, the queen added, “Like the game of chess, we suggest you make the move which will ultimately bring you the greatest advantage.”

  “Thank you for giving me the choice.”

  Curiosity plagued the queen, but she held her silence, waiting to see what the princess would reveal. When nothing more was offered, she said, “Princess Jordan of Navarre is also meant to foster with the monks. Perhaps you should join her and Lord Duncan on the trek to the Southern Mountains.”

  The princess’s face brightened. “I’d like that…perhaps this journey is meant to be.”

  Seeing the decision was made, the queen said, “Given the winter conditions in the mountains, we expect you will have a turn of the moon before starting your journey. Perhaps you will consent to a game of chess before you go?” Wanting to learn more about this intriguing young woman, the queen gestured toward the chessboard. “If you were red, what would your next move be?”

  The princess bent her head to the board, her gaze darting across the pieces. The queen waited, interested to test the depth of the young woman’s thinking.

  The princess pointed to the red king’s side of the board. “I’d advance the castle’s pawn to threaten the white monk.”

  The queen studied the board. At first glance, the move appeared to be nothing more than an annoying nuisance, causing a slight delay to white’s inevitable victory. Disappointed, Liandra looked at the princess. Seeing a small smile play across the young woman’s face, the queen took a closer look at the board. Mentally working through the moves, Liandra was surprised to discover that the move could evolve into an unorthodox attack on the white king. It was a risky gambit, requiring the sacrifice of the red queen, but it had the possibility of leading to a swift checkmate, reversing the outcome of the game.

  Liandra smiled. “Very shrewd. You use a minor piece to snatch victory from defeat.”

  The princess returned the queen’s smile. “I don’t like to lose. Besides, minor pieces can sometimes offer the greatest surprise.”

  Nodding in approval, the queen studied the young woman who had started the game of princes as a pawn. Ursus might overlook his own daughter but Liandra intended to keep an eye o
n the young woman. Of all the chess pieces, only the pawn had the potential to be transformed into a powerful queen.

  61

  Jordan

  Their swords met with a clash. Jordan pivoted away, catching a second blow on her shield. Feinting to the left and then pivoting right, she slipped her sword inside of her opponent’s guard to tag Kath on the breastplate. The move won the sparring match, but it was all too easy.

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Jordan stepped out of the ring. She was taller and had the advantage of reach, but the younger woman was by far the superior sword. Except for the Octagon knights, Jordan doubted any man in the training yard could best Kath in the sword ring. Something troubled her sword sister…enough to make her lose. Worried, Jordan removed her half helm. “You’ve worn me out. Let’s take a short walk on the parapet before we get back to the ring.”

  Kath sheathed her sword and nodded, a distracted look on her face. Leaving their helmets and shields on the bench, they twirled cloaks around their shoulders and climbed the narrow stairs to the battlement. A crisp wind tugged at Jordan’s sandy hair, pulling it from behind her ear. Walking along the snow-dusted parapet, she watched Kath from the corner of her eye. The younger woman stared off in the distance with a troubled gaze. Concerned, Jordan said, “You weren’t yourself in the sparring ring. What bothers you?”

  Kath startled, as if she’d been discovered doing something she shouldn’t. Jordan held her breath hoping the younger woman would trust enough to confide in her. In a hesitant voice, Kath said, “I’ve got a lot on my mind…and I do need someone to talk to.”

  Jordan walked in silence, giving her time.

  The words came slow at first, like a trickle from a leaking dam. “I had a meeting with the queen yesterday. A scroll arrived from the Southern Mountains. I don’t really know much about the Kiralynn monks…but it seems that they want me to come to their monastery for fostering.”

  Jordan let out a whoop of joy. Flashing Kath a smile, she said, “I’ve been dreading the thought of leaving Pellanor…but if you’re coming I won’t be leaving so much behind.” Glancing at the knights practicing below in the yard, she asked, “So will the knights be going with you?” She still regretted not going to Castlegard for her Wayfaring. Finding the knights in Pellanor had proved an unexpected boon.

  “Sir Blaine and Sir Tyrone are pledged to me but the others will return to Castlegard. The smith has all the measurements he needs to complete the queen’s commission, so their work here is done.” Kath murmured, “I’ll need to send another dispatch to my father. The queen gave me her blessing. Hopefully that will mollify father.” Shrugging, she added, “Either way, I’ll be too distant to feel his wrath.”

  “I’ll be glad to have your company, but why are you suddenly going to the monks?”

  Kath walked in silence, absently knocking snow from the notched battlement. “I have a secret.”

  Jordan stilled. The younger woman always seemed to carry a hidden burden far beyond her years. She hoped Kath would share whatever troubled her. “I have your back, sword sister, on or off the battlefield.”

  “This secret stays between us?”

  “I swear.”

  Kath gave her a solemn nod. Reaching beneath her tunic, she tugged on a leather cord, revealing a small figurine. Carved of stone, the squat gargoyle had amazing details, a mythical mix of a hawk’s beak, a lion’s body, and bat wings. “I found this in Castlegard. It’s made of mage-stone, the same as the inner castle. It’s supposed to be magical but I don’t know how to use it. The monks claim they can teach me the secret of my gargoyle.” Falling silent, Kath looked warily at Jordan as if she expected to be scorned.

  Her wariness was understandable. Most of Erdhe considered magic to be evil, something tainted by the Dark Lord, but the royal house of Navarre was no stranger to magic. “I do not fear magic. Magic enables the queens of Navarre to give birth to the tuplets that are so necessary to the royal succession. Without magic, my siblings and I would never have been born.” Putting a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm, she said, “Magic is like a sword, used for good or evil depending on the hand that wields it. The gods have seen fit to entrust you with magic. I know you’ll find a way to use it for good. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Then you understand why I must go to the monks?”

  “Magic is a great responsibility. If the monks can teach you to use it then of course you must go.”

  A weight seemed to lift from the young woman’s shoulders. Tucking the little figurine beneath her tunic, Kath said, “Only a few people know about my gargoyle. The two knights, Sir Blaine and Sir Tyrone…and there is one other.” With a puzzled look on her face, she added, “It’s a mystery to me how the monks learned of it.”

  Jordan shrugged. “Perhaps it is a blessing they know. Otherwise you might never learn to master it.”

  Kath nodded. “Just so.”

  The two friends walked along the snow-dusted parapet, occasionally pausing to lean on the battlements, watching the knights cross swords in the training yard below. After a while, Kath said in a serious voice, “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me about Duncan.”

  Jordan tried to keep the shock from her face. So this was the reason Kath became strangely silent whenever the leather-clad archer was around. Jordan studied her sword sister. The princess of Castlegard carried a weight of responsibility that was far beyond her years, but when it came to love it was clear she was inexperienced. Duncan, on the other hand, was a good man but he was also very…worldly. On the face of it, Jordan could not see the match working. “What do you want to know?”

  With a wry smile, Kath replied, “Anything…everything.”

  So it was as bad as that. Knowing that love was rarely logical, Jordan decided to keep her doubts to herself, after all, who could say where Eros would send his lightning bolts. Perhaps there was more to this match than met the eye. Shrugging, she gave in to the simple sisterly pleasure of gossiping about an interesting man. “I hardly know where to begin.”

  Kath grinned, an eager gleam in her eyes. “The beginning is always a good place. Have you always known Duncan?”

  “Almost always. My father met Duncan on a boar hunt in the Delta. He was hired as a scout to track a wild boar. The boar was dangerous, said to be a ferocious killer. My father’s party cornered the beast in its lair. The boar charged. My father set the butt of his spear to take the weight of the charge, but the spear shattered without slowing the boar. The others watched in horror as the beast bore down on the king. Somehow Duncan loosed an arrow over the king’s shoulder, straight into the beast’s eye. The shot struck true, piercing the boar’s brain. The beast dropped dead at my father’s feet. They said that it was an amazing shot, for it’s almost impossible to fell a wild razorback with an arrow. The king was safe, the killer boar was dead, and Duncan was hailed as a hero. When my father returned to Navarre, he brought Duncan with him. In time, Duncan became a trusted advisor and a true friend to the king.”

  “So Duncan is originally from the Delta?”

  “No, Duncan was an adventurer looking for a home. I guess he found what he was looking for in Navarre.”

  “So where’s he from?”

  “If you ask him, I’m sure he’ll say what he always does, ‘from everywhere and nowhere’.”

  Kath walked in silence, her face thoughtful. “So how did he come to wear a patch on his eye?”

  Jordan hesitated but Kath deserved the truth. “He always says he lost the eye in a fight over a woman. He never says more than that. Just that he won the fight, lost the eye, and that the woman was not worth it.”

  A frown passed across Kath’s face. In a quiet voice she asked, “So does he have a woman back in Navarre?”

  Now they’d come to the heart of the matter. Jordan said gently, “You have to understand that Duncan is a very private, very discreet man…but he also has a way with women.” Pausing to choose h
er words carefully, Jordan added, “I’ve always felt Duncan never lacked for female companionship…yet he never brought any woman to the Midwinter Feast or talked of anyone special. Somehow I always felt none of the women of Navarre ever captured his heart.”

  A smile spread across Kath’s face.

  Jordan hesitated; worrying her friend would be hurt. Breaking off an icicle, she watched the icy spear plummet to the yard, shattering into a thousand shards. “Be careful Kath. If your heart is somehow set on Duncan, be warned you’re sailing into deep, uncharted seas.”

  Kath whispered, “I know.” She shook her head. “This makes no sense. My way is the sword. There’s no room for anything else, especially not a man. But somehow I cannot help myself. Duncan tugs at both my heart and my mind.”

  Jordan was not surprised. In hindsight, it was clear from the way Kath acted around the leather clad archer that she was smitten. Hoping to lighten the mood, she said, “Then let’s hope one of Eros’s lightning bolts can penetrate the thick leather hide he wears around his heart like armor.”

  Flashing a smile, Kath said, “We’d best get back to the training yard or the knights will begin to worry.” The two friends returned to the yard, challenging the knights to a round in the sparring ring. Jordan watched her friend, relieved to see that she moved with a lighter step, as if talking had somehow lessened her burdens. She was glad Kath had shared her concerns but she worried about her friend’s happiness. Love could cut deeper than swords.