The Priory of the Orange Tree

‘Have you ever been to Lasia, Majesty?’

‘No. I could never leave Virtudom.’

Ead felt that familiar twist of irritation. It was hypocrisy at its finest for the Inysh to use Lasia as a cornerstone of their founding legend, only to deride its people as heretics.

‘You want to broker a military alliance with the East,’ she murmured. ‘You want to call their wyrms…to help us deal with the awakenings.’ […] ‘Fool. Headstrong fool. When the queen discovers you wish to deal with wyrms—’

‘They are not wyrms! They are dragons, and they are gentle creatures. I have seen pictures of them, read books about them.’

‘Eastern books.’

‘Yes. Their dragons are one with air and water, not with fire. The East has been estranged from us for so long that we have forgotten the difference.’ When Ead only looked at her in disbelief, Truyde tried a different tack: ‘As a fellow outsider in this country, hear me. What if the Inysh are wrong, and the continuation of the House of Berethnet is not what keeps the Nameless One at bay?’

For the first time, she saw Sabran Berethnet for who she was beneath the mask: a young and fragile woman who carried a thousand-year legacy on her shoulders. A queen whose power was absolute only so long as she could produce a daughter. The fool in Ead wanted to take her by the hand and get her away from this room, but that fool was too much of a coward to act. She left Sabran alone, like all the others had.

‘You believe,’ Ead said, frustrated.

‘As others believe in gods. Often with less proof,’ Truyde pointed out.

She had never been meant to harbour anything more than indifference towards this woman. Yet she knew now that when Chassar returned, it would be hard to go. Sabran would need a friend more than ever. Roslain and Katryen would be preoccupied with the newborn, and would talk of nothing but blankets and cradles and milk nurses for months. Sabran would not weather that time well. She would go from being the sun of her court to the shadow behind a child.

‘Of course,’ Ragab said, ‘the Melancholy King was not dreaming at all, but following a mirage. The desert had played a trick on him. He died there, and his bones were lost to the sand. And the desert had its name.’ He patted his camel when it snorted. ‘Love and fear do strange things to our souls. The dreams they bring, those dreams that leave us drenched in salt water and gasping for breath as if we might die—those, we call unquiet dreams. And only the scent of a rose can avert them.’

Gooseflesh freckled Ead as she remembered another rose, tucked behind a pillow.

‘Prioress, Ead said, frustrated, ‘surely the purpose of the Priory is to protect humankind.’

‘By defeating the Draconic evil in this world.’

‘If we mean to defeat that evil, there must be stability in the world. The Priory is the first shield against wyrms, but we cannot win alone,’ Ead stressed. ‘Virtudom has great military and naval strength. The only way to hold it together, and to prevent it from destroying itself from within, is to keep Sabran Berethnet alive and enthro—’

‘Enough.’

Ead said no more. […]

‘You are strong-willed, Eadaz. Like Zāla was,’ the Prioress said, softer. ‘I respected our last Prioress in her decision to station you in Inys. She believed it was what the Mother wanted…but I believe otherwise. It is time to prepare. Time to look to our own, and make ready for war.’

‘Once Sab was old enough to bear children of her own,’ Loth said, ‘Crest sought help from King Sigoso. She knew he reviled Rosarian for refusing his hand, so together they conspired to kill her, with Crest hoping the blame would drift toward Yscalin.’

‘And Crest still considered herself pious?’ Margret snorted. ‘After murdering a Berethnet?’

‘Piety can turn the power-hungry into monsters,’ Ead said. ‘They can twist any teaching to justify their actions.’

She had seen it before. Mita had believed she was serving the Mother when she executed Zāla.

‘Crest waited then,’ Loth said. ‘Waited to see if Sabran would grow to be more devout than her mother. When Sab resisted the childbed, Crest sensed rebellion. She bribed people to enter the Queen Tower with blades to frighten her […]’

‘I agree.’ Loth had spoken before he knew it. The three women looked at him, Margret with raised eyebrows. ‘I think it would help,’ he conceded, even as his faith groaned in protest. ‘During my…adventure, I learned what it was to be a heretic. It felt as though my very existence were under assault. If Inys can be the first to cease using the word, I think it would have done this world a very fine service.’

‘It would be unconventional. You are not my subject, and you are in disgrace,’ the Unceasing Emperor mused, ‘but it seems we are destined for a change in the way of things. Besides, I like to defy convention now and then. No ruler made progress by playing a safe hand. And it keeps my officials on their toes.’ […] ‘They never expect us to actually rule, you know. If we do, they call us mad.

‘They raise us to be soft as silk, distract us with luxury and wealth beyond measure, so we never rock the boat that carries us. They expect us to be so bored by our power that we let them do the ruling in our stead. Behind every throne is a masked servant who seeks only to make a puppet of the one who sits on it. My esteemed grandmother taught me this.’

‘I have no soul to sell, honoured Miduchi. But I may yet earn one,’ Niclays said. Saint, he was hot. ‘You see, Jan did leave someone behind, someone who I still care for. Truyde utt Zeedeur, his granddaughter. I want to be what he was to her, and to do that, I must be better. I must be good. And this is the way.’