The Return

The gates groaned open, and ten thousand soldiers poured through like a river of steel.

I watched from the palace steps. Counted the banners. Blue and silver, Rendrath colors. Colors I'd stripped from every hall, every tapestry, every scrap of cloth in this kingdom.

Now they flew again.

At the army's head rode a man I'd seen only in portraits. The boy prince, fifteen when I'd stolen his throne, grown into something far more dangerous.

Caden Rendrath had come home.

"Your Majesty." Lord Theron, my spymaster, appeared at my elbow. "The archers are in position."

"Stand them down."

"Isolde..."

"I said stand them down."

He retreated. Smart man.

The army halted at the base of the steps. Ten thousand boots, ten thousand swords, ten thousand reasons I should have let my archers loose. But arrows wouldn't end this. They'd only begin a war I couldn't win.

Caden dismounted.

Storm-grey eyes settled on me. His father's eyes. His father's broad frame, towering over his commanders.

But none of his father's madness. Not that I could see from here.

I descended the steps. My crown, the one I'd chosen, thorns and all, bit into my temples with each movement. A reminder. Always a reminder.

He met me halfway.

"You have something of mine," he said. Low. Controlled. A decade of rage compressed into five words.

"Your father had something of mine. I took it back."

"My father is dead."

"Yes." I let that word settle between us. Let him hear what I wasn't saying. "He is."

His hand moved toward his sword. Ten thousand soldiers tensed. My guards drew steel.

I held still.

"Is that how this ends?" I asked. "You cut me down on the steps where your father used to greet ambassadors? Very poetic. Your generals will write songs about it."

"You murdered him."

"I killed him. There's a difference."

"Not to me."

"No." I studied his face. The hatred there. The righteousness. "I don't suppose there would be."

Wind caught the banners behind him. Blue and silver snapped in the morning air. In another life, I might have found him handsome. Might have seen the sharp intelligence behind the fury, the careful way he held himself, like a blade waiting to be drawn.

But I'd learned long ago that handsome men could hide monsters.

"You have options," I said. "You can fight. Storm the palace. Take what you believe is yours."

"And?"

"And my people will burn the kingdom to ash before they let you rule it."

His fingers flexed once, then stilled. Good. He was smart enough to believe me.

"What's my other option?"

"Marriage."

The word landed like a stone in still water. Ripples of shock moved through his commanders. Behind me, I felt Theron tense.

Caden's expression didn't change. "You're joking."

"I never joke about political arrangements."

"You killed my father and you want to marry me?"

"I killed your father because he was going to do something unforgivable. I want to marry you because it's the only way this ends without ten thousand corpses."

"And you expect me to believe you? To trust the woman who..."

"I expect nothing." I cut him off. Couldn't let him finish that sentence, not in front of his army. "I'm offering a choice. War or a wedding. One option ends with blood. The other ends with a treaty."

"And what do you get?"

"Legitimacy. The factions who hate me get a Rendrath on the throne. The factions who love me keep their queen. Everyone lives."

"Everyone except my father."

"He's already dead, Caden. That part's finished."

I'd used his first name deliberately. Watched it land. His eyes narrowed.

"Don't," he said, "call me that."

"Would you prefer 'Your Highness'? 'My lord'? I can do formal if that's easier."

"I'd prefer silence."

"Then you've come to the wrong kingdom."

Behind him, one of his generals, an older man with a grey beard and cold eyes, cleared his throat. Lord Vareth. I knew him by reputation. Loyal to Marcus Rendrath until the end. Loyal to the cause Marcus had championed.

"Your Majesty," Vareth said to Caden, not to me. "This is clearly a trap. Give me the order and we end this now."

Caden didn't look at him. Kept his attention fixed on me.

"How long?" he asked.

"Six months. Trial period. If you find evidence I'm the monster you believe me to be, you can have your war then. With cause. With legitimacy. With the full support of the court."

"And if I don't find evidence?"

"Then perhaps you'll understand why I did what I did."

Neither of us spoke. The wind died. Even the horses seemed to hold their breath. The wind died. Even the horses seemed to hold their breath.

"You're gambling," Caden said after a long moment. "Betting your life that I won't find what I'm looking for."

"I'm betting that when you look closely enough, you'll find the truth."

"The truth is you're a murderer."

"The truth," I said, "is more complicated than that."

He studied me. Looking for weakness, I knew. For cracks in my composure. For the guilt that should be eating me alive.

He wouldn't find it.

I'd made my choice ten years ago. Made my peace with what it cost. The blood on my hands had dried long ago, and I'd built a kingdom on top of it.

"Six months," he said.

Relief surged. I buried it before it could reach my face.

"You accept?"

"I accept the terms." He stepped closer. Close enough that I could count the flecks of silver in those grey irises. Close enough to smell the road dust on his armor. "But understand this. I'm going to destroy you. I'm going to find every witness, every document, every scrap of evidence. And when I do, when I prove what you really are..."

"Then you'll have your war."

"Then I'll have justice."

"Those aren't always the same thing."

"They will be." He turned away. Walked back toward his army. "Lord Vareth, make camp outside the city. We'll send for our things."

Vareth's face contorted. "My lord, this is..."

"This is politics," Caden said. "And apparently, I'm getting married."

I watched them go. Watched the blue and silver banners retreat to the fields beyond the walls. Watched ten thousand soldiers begin the slow work of making camp.

Theron appeared beside me again.

"That was either brilliant or suicidal."

"It was necessary."

"He's going to tear this kingdom apart looking for dirt on you."

"I know."

"And if he finds it?"

I touched my crown. Felt the thorns press against my fingertips. The price I paid every day for the price I'd paid once.

"He won't find what he's looking for," I said.

Because what Caden Rendrath was looking for didn't exist. He wanted a villain. A tyrant. A woman who'd murdered his father out of ambition or cruelty.

He wouldn't find that woman.

What he'd find, if he looked hard enough, was far more dangerous.

The truth.

And I wasn't sure either of us would survive it.

I turned away from the gates.

"Prepare the wedding arrangements," I told Theron. "And have the seamstresses start on a dress."

"What color?"

The answer came without thinking.

"White." I smiled, and it felt like a blade. "Let's give them a proper show."

Behind me, the army of the dead king's son made camp. In six months, one of us would be destroyed.

I intended for it not to be me.