Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 22–At the Queen’s Request

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Britta stifled another yawn as her horse plodded forward. The afternoon sun beat down on her, and the crown’s weight—metaphorical though it might be out here—pressed heavily on her thoughts. The past hours spent reviewing what remained of her army had left her with a bitter taste. Edwyn’s legacy of cruelty was written in the gaps between soldiers, in the haunted looks of survivors, in the tensing of shoulders whenever an officer raised his voice.

His drumhead trials and arbitrary executions had done more than thin their ranks—they’d carved holes in the army’s soul. Many formations stood barely a third of their proper strength, desertion having claimed more men than any enemy’s sword. Yet beneath the damage, she could see the army’s beating heart remained intact. The core units held firm, and their discipline was a testament to their training rather than Edwyn’s leadership. With time and interest, she could rebuild the rest and restore what was lost.

But she had neither. The thought of disbanding the bulk of the force and returning to Landros with her own contingent beckoned like a siren’s call. Let someone else deal with the mess Edwyn had made of things.

Her mount’s hooves kicked up small clouds of dust as she guided it toward her tent. The sight that greeted her there stopped her short—a cluster of captains gathered around a seated figure, their bodies arranged in the particular way men stood when trying to appear casual around someone of importance. The crowd parted like a curtain as she approached, revealing a familiar face that brought her up short.

“Lord Katun. You appear to be doing well,” she said, swinging down from her saddle. Her boots hit the ground with a soft thud that sent a tremor up her tired legs.

Katun’s smile carried its usual warmth though lines of pain creased its edges. “Please forgive me if I don’t stand,” he replied, tapping his cane against the ground. “I am as sound as can be expected. It is good to see you, Your Majesty. Congratulations on your ascension.”

The title still sat awkwardly in her ears. Britta forced a smile, scanning the faces of the men surrounding the Duke. They bowed quickly, the movement carrying the stiffness of recent practice with new protocol.

“Gentlemen,” Katun’s voice carried easily despite his seated position, “I would like to speak privately with the Queen.” His eyes flicked to her face. “If you don’t mind, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all.” She waited until the last of them had retreated beyond earshot, their boots scuffing against the packed earth. “Why did you come back so quickly? Ought you to have recovered from your injuries first?”

Katun’s shoulder rose in a careful shrug, which suggested that even that small movement had caused him pain. “Perhaps, but I wanted to offer my services.”

“I appreciate the courtesy, but I am sending the army home and returning to Landros.” The words came out more clipped than she’d intended. She softened her tone. “When you are healed, I will value your help in getting a handle on governing the country. Until then, get some rest.”

The Duke nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “If you change your mind, send word. I will be at your service.” With visible effort, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. The bow he managed was shallow but proper. “Your Majesty, with your permission, I now take my leave of you.”

“Granted,” Britta replied, watching how he favored his left side.

The thunder of approaching hoofbeats drew her attention. A messenger reined his horse to a stop nearby, dust settling around him as he dismounted. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent message from the Governor of Keihl.”

Britta took the sealed note, aware of Katun’s sharp gaze following her movements. The wax seal caught the sunlight as she examined it. “This is addressed from Governor Thrallic to Edwyn.” The paper crackled as she broke the seal and unfolded it. “He continues to plead for help to ward off Nagun raids and reports that some unknown number of troops have been spotted coming from the northern passes.” She glanced toward Katun, noting how his expression had shifted to one of careful consideration. “Do you know Thrallic?”

“Yes,” the Duke answered, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on his cane. “An appointee of Brecc’s, which is probably why Edwyn ignored his messages. More of a bureaucrat than a Governor.” His eyes narrowed at the letter. “Curious.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The message is dated a week ago and is only now reaching us. Strange.”

The observation sent a chill down her spine despite the afternoon heat. “I thought that odd as well. That aside, do you consider Thrallic’s concerns to be credible?”

Katun rubbed his chin, the gesture leaving trails in the road dust that had settled there. “Governors should be able to handle Nagun raids without help, but an armed incursion by foreign troops is another matter. Drachnor is on the other side of those passes. That can only mean one thing…”

“Faline is moving against Keihl,” Britta finished, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

“Precisely, and Thrallic is not a military leader.”

Britta’s gaze swept across the camp, taking in the soldiers going about their duties. The thought of leading these men—these survivors of Edwyn’s madness—into battle so soon made her stomach churn. But duty wasn’t about comfortable choices. “We must go to Keihl and do so quickly.”

“Begging your pardon,” Katun’s voice carried a note of caution that made her turn back to him. “I recommend that you scout the road all the way there. I’m concerned that this information is so old and that we are ignorant of the situation in the city. Unless something drastic has changed, Keihl should be able to hold out for months.”

His words settled over her like a mantle of responsibility. She turned and called out to one of her captains. “Wessex, take your men and prepare to travel. I want to know who is between Keihl and us.”

The young Earl of Wessex straightened, his armor catching the sun. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Within moments, he and his men had mounted up, their horses’ hooves drumming against the ground as they rode out.

Katun watched them disappear into the distance, his expression grave. “I seriously doubt they are going to arrive there unopposed.”

“If it turns out to be nothing, then I can proceed with my plans.” The words sounded hollow even to her ears.

“If not?” Katun’s question hung in the air between them.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Katun’s sigh carried the weight of recent history. “The last time we crossed a bridge, Bretagne ended up with Edwyn as King.” He bowed stiffly. “Good luck, your Majesty.” He began to turn away, each movement carefully measured.

The comment struck like a physical blow, but it sparked something in her—a flash of the queen she needed to become. “As your Queen, I am appointing you as my adviser.”

Katun stopped, his body going still as stone. He turned back to face her with painful slowness. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Then, barely above a whisper, “I should have kept my mouth shut, yes?”

Britta nodded, allowing herself a small smile. Sometimes, it was good to be Queen.