Song of Earth and Claws

Fae cannot be ruled.

A map with clearly marked boundaries of the varying kingdoms seemed to contradict this saying, but Lannahi knew that the words held more truth. The shapes painted on the light marble floor were nothing more than a representation of the board, and the names and outlines of the countries, a record of the current state of the game. The kingdoms’ subjects were players like any king and queen. Rulers were simply more determined to win.

Lannahi’s lips curled into an ironic smile as she thought about her father’s words. Once, she would have said that strength, craft, and courage were what distinguished monarchs from the crowd, but growing up in the royal court, she’d quickly understood that these qualities weren’t a differentiator, but the bare minimum needed to survive the high-level games. General Kammau possessed the same dominating strength as King Sarkal and Chancellor Llissal matched the king in cleverness, yet neither of them ever Challenged him. Asirri, Lannahi’s mother, did challenge Sarkal to a duel, but despite it ending in a draw, she’d given up her crown, content with the titles of Knight and Royal Consort. Kammau, Llissal, and Asirri could reach for more power, but they did not want to. The rest of the citizens might not have been strong enough to confront the king directly nor had an army to face him in battle, but they could have left the kingdom to fight on the enemy’s side—and yet they hadn’t done that.

One needs to be determined to win, Sarkal liked to tell his children.

One needs to be lucky to win, Lannahi thought instead.

Her father didn’t win seven cities by sheer determination. He was a powerful enchanter. If not for that, he never would have become king or would have lost his reign long ago.

Lannahi frowned. She wasn’t so lucky. Her magical talent was laughable. If she didn’t do something soon, she’d be forced to follow other people’s orders for the rest of her life.

Her gaze moved over the map.

Plains and coasts were out of question. Most of the cities there were ruled by enchanters and water elementals. Too much risk.

She also dismissed the dry lands that belonged to the fire elementals. The chances of winning were much higher, but of living in peace afterward, almost none. The firebringers had difficulty in abiding by the Rules.

The terrains beyond the wide strip of steppes and deserts tempted not only with an easy victory but also with riches like cocoa and spices. On top of that, the unwarlike flowerspeakers… A dream kingdom to rule. If only encounters with the native insect species didn’t threaten to leave one with memory loss or madness…

The northern part of the Continent… Lannahi shook her head. No, there was no point in pondering that. She was not an adventurer nor did she have the resources to build a city from scratch.

Lannahi sighed and shifted her gaze back to the southern part of the map. Since the plains and coasts were out of question, that left only the high mountains and the nests of air elementals or the deep winter forests and the cities belonging to the landshapers—the lands that bordered the edge of the civilized world.

Since living at heights didn’t appeal to her …

Landshapers, she thought with bleak amusement. That would be a sensation.

No one challenged the landshapers. Not because it wasn’t worthwhile as their land was rich with resources, but out of fear. Fear of repeating the past. It was the magic of the earth elementals that destroyed the part of the Continent now called the Shattered Lands. The fact that it happened hundreds of years ago didn’t matter. The term “landunmakers” never went out of use. Nothing stirred the imagination like the vision of an abyss swallowing cities whole.

Lannahi felt uneasy thinking about the consequences of the landshapers’ wrath, but she didn’t think the grim visions would become reality. She was issuing a Challenge, not starting a war. They might not be thrilled, but it wasn’t a reason to cause a disaster.

They knew the Rules.

Fae cannot be ruled, the thought echoed again in her head.

Lannahi tightened her fingers on the stone balustrade for a moment, then stepped back and moved toward the stairs, remembering the kiss of the man who had betrayed her.

You will look beautiful in a diadem… and a leash.

When she came down from the gallery and stood at the edge of the map, in her heart, fear mixed with determination.

“Fae cannot be ruled” was the first part of the saying. The second was: “but you can convince them to play a game.”

And every game could be won.

***

Even though it was still some time before the evening meal, when Lannahi entered the dining room, a man and a woman were already sitting at the round oak table. They were endowed with similar features, both golden-haired, golden-eyed, and possessing a beauty that made them stand out from the human servants who bustled about the chamber lighting the lightcrystals and preparing the tableware.

“Hello, sister,” Letiri said.

Lannahi stopped but quickly hid her surprise and moved toward her brother and sister. “Hello,” she said cheerfully despite the knot tightening in her stomach.

Despite their similar physical features, her siblings were as different as night and day. Letiri liked wearing bright dresses with bold cuts, and Maal preferred subdued colors and tied-up elegance without loose ends. Her sister spoke with a cutting edge, sharp and quick like a dagger strike; her brother carefully weighed each word and rarely wasted a single breath. Letiri’s natural element was socializing, flitting from party to party; Maal’s main focus was on his duties. With a little effort, one could see the resemblance in their triangular faces, but those were just details.

When Lannahi looked into their vertical pupils, she saw most of all the arrogant pride of the powerful fae.

Maal responded to her greeting with a nod, but her sister’s smile widened and Lannahi knew her hesitation had been noticed.

“‘Better to be too early than too late,’” Letiri quoted. “Good that you remember.”

There was no mockery in her sister’s voice, but the attention with which she stared at Lannahi, waiting for her reaction, left no doubt that there was another layer behind her words. Like most sayings, the one Letiri quoted referred to combat and spoke of the advantage that could be gained by appearing on the battlefield earlier than the opponent. From a military point of view, this was a reasonable conclusion, but in social terms, it had a different meaning. Coming earlier was seen as an admission of weakness—only the people unsure of themselves and their power sought advantage in their surroundings. By mentioning this now, her sister had made it clear that she knew the reason why Lannahi had come early.

But what did Letiri mean by “good”?

“Good that you fight despite your limitations”?

Or “Good that you know your place”?

Lannahi didn’t know. She wasn’t close enough to either of her siblings to understand their intentions. Letiri was ten and Maal was nineteen years older than her. To them, she was just a child.

Maal had become the Prince of Silverleaves when she was six years old. Though he regularly came to the capital, his visits were always brief, and spending time with Lannahi wasn’t among his priorities. She knew Letiri better because they’d lived under the same roof for fifteen years, but Lannahi didn’t remember them with any particular sentiment. Her sister had only ever been interested in two things: power and sex. When she hadn’t been preoccupied with her studies under the tutelage of her parents and tutors, she’d spent her time with her friends and courtesans. The only advantage of being her sister had been that Lannahi turned to her for advice on matters she hadn’t dared discuss with her parents. Then Letiri had become the Princess of Orchidgate, and like Maal, she seemed to think of Lannahi only when she visited their parents—once a month.

Their relationships had evolved a few years ago when Lannahi became old enough to take a lover. Maal, who never spared a thought for her before, had begun visiting the training ground to observe her exercises and give her advice, and Letiri had started talking to her intimately as she would to one of her friends. Lannahi had found their behavior puzzling—Maal’s attention even intimidating. It’d been possible that the company of children bored them and, on the threshold of adulthood, Lannahi was now interesting to them, but… fae weren’t selfless. For them, everything was a game. Given the status of Lannahi’s father and the ambitions of her siblings, it hadn’t been hard to guess what had been truly going on. Maal and Letiri watched her. Everyone watched her. Her parents, teachers, peers. Everyone wanted to know.

How powerful was she?

It had been obvious that her magical abilities hadn’t been developing as quickly as her siblings’, but until she’d been officially introduced to the court, she’d been treated— depending on the person—as a future ruler or as an opponent. To Maal and Letiri, Lannahi was a potential enemy—until five years ago when she’d been introduced to the court not as a princess but as a singer. In an instant, she turned from a figure to contend with to a pawn.

The change in Maal and Letiri’s demeanor was subtle, but Lannahi, who watched them as closely as they watched her, had noticed it quickly. Maal didn’t avoid her as he had when he’d thought her childish, but no longer did he seek out her company. He stopped talking to her about magic and instead praised her performances, talked about the artists on his court, and, like Letiri, more often asked her about other courtiers. Her older sister still acted friendly toward her, but into her words crept condescension.

“You impressed Ambassador Saoul. If you had sung Hyacinth Ballad, he would have fallen at your feet.”

“Wear a red dress next time. If you look like a delicate flower, someone will eventually stomp on you.”

“Your performance was touching, Lannahi, but you should control your emotions. By showing them so openly, you reveal how much music means to you. You unwittingly display your greatest weakness.”

Lannahi understood that her siblings started viewing her as a potential ally, but one that they did not need to demean themselves to pursue. Rather, it was she who would one day need to court their support. What she realized belatedly was that she was being tested. Maal and Letiri did not doubt that Lannahi would need their protection someday—the question was: would their help pay off?

Her power had little value in combat, but as a singer, she could potentially make a good spy. A good pawn.

Lannahi walked over to the table and placed her hand on the back of her chair. When she touched green velvet, her fingers tingled and her first instinct was to step back, but she was aware that her siblings were watching her every move and she pushed aside her surprise. Enchanting the chair so she couldn’t move it was infantile and usually led to a food fight that ended with a mess, humiliation, and a burning desire for revenge. Lannahi doubted that her dignified brother and chic sister would enjoy such a childish game, but she had no doubt that if she accepted the challenge, it would be her who would end up in a sorry state. The fact that her siblings decided to make such a direct move meant that they wanted to know how she would react.

No more acting. Tomorrow she would be officially introduced to the members of other courts. She was twenty-five now and could participate in the Royal Game. It was time to show that she was no longer a child.

Lannahi sent Letiri a pleasant smile. “I came early because I was thirsty. You too?”

Amusement flashed in her sister’s eyes. Lying was a ploy for weaklings, and no civilized fae would jeopardize their reputation for a pathetic excuse. Letiri had no choice but to assume that Lannahi was telling the truth and would do so herself. By enchanting the chair, her siblings proved that coming to the meeting early really could give an advantage, but it also put them in an embarrassing position. Could it be they were afraid of a family meal?

“Maal and I wanted to talk,” Letiri said smoothly.

With a note of worry in her voice asked, Lannahi asked, “Have I interrupted you?”

“It wasn’t a private conversation.” Letiri gestured at the servants that filled the room. “We are simply curious about tomorrow and amusing ourselves with speculation.”

The knot in Lannahi’s stomach tightened even more. The thought of what she needed to do the next day filled her with dread, but knowing that her siblings were discussing her future didn’t appeal to her either. Could it be that they were debating which one of them will gain a new pawn?

Lannahi didn’t want to appear intimidated, so she turned to the man with slicked-back hair and looked him directly in the eye. “Are you making a bet regarding tomorrow’s tournaments?”

“We were debating which courts might invite you,” Maal said in a composed tone, “and trying to anticipate which invitations you will accept.”

“You don’t have to be shy with me, brother. If you invite me to Silverleaves, I will gladly perform at your court.”

The corners of his lips lifted slightly in appreciation of her sense of humor, but his eyes remained alert. “You can come whenever you wish, Lannahi,” he said in a silky voice. “My courtiers have long awaited to witness one of your performances.”

Lannahi inclined her head. “And you, sister? You too are too shy to invite me?”

Letiri grinned. “Lannahi,” her sister basically purred her name, “You know that you have an open invitation. But I must warn you that my court is not as conservative as father’s. I won’t take any responsibility if your stay there turns you into a debauchee.”

Lannahi answered again with a nod. When the servants brought pitchers of nectar into the dining room, she turned to the young human dressed in gray livery standing at a proper distance from the table. “Fill our goblets.”

The man bowed and hastened to complete the task. Following proper etiquette, he started with Maal and Letiri and finished with Lannahi. When he put down the crystal pitcher and made a motion as if to pull out the chair for her, Lannahi shook her head slightly and gestured at her goblet. Despite her siblings’ encouraging words, the tingling in her fingers didn’t stop, which meant they still hadn’t taken the enchantment off the chair. Making her stand while they sat was an insult, but Lannahi wasn’t in a position to rise to it. A stronger enchantress would simply have taken control of the chair, and if she wasn’t afraid of starting a chain of vengeance, she would have answered with a similar insult. Lannahi could only accept their superiority and pretend she wasn’t upset—a taste of what her life would be like under their rule.

The servant handed Lannahi the goblet filled with golden drink.

“Tell us about your plans,” Letiri said when the human returned to his previous place. “Do you want to travel, or would you rather stay in the kingdom?”

Instead of waiting for her siblings to reach for their goblets, Lannahi took a sip. It was a rude gesture, but they weren’t her sovereigns yet. By showing subservience now she might gain their protection but not their respect.

She swallowed, the enticing mixture of sweet and bitter with a hint of sour still on her tongue. “I would rather stay here.”

That wasn’t a lie. Lannahi wouldn’t mind staying at her father’s court and dedicating the rest of her life to music. Only, she knew she could not remain. Sarkal was aging. Even his reputation would wane with time and if he didn’t abdicate his throne to one of his children, he risked being Challenged. Even if the initial Challenger lost, more would come, and eventually, her father’s kingdom would plunge into constant battles for the throne. There was only one way for Lannahi to survive this—by surrendering to fae like her siblings.

Or, like Nihhal.

Lannahi suppressed a shudder.

“You don’t feel adventurous?” Letiri teased. “Such a shame. Rumors of your talent and beauty have long been spreading amongst the courts. Many princes will be disappointed.”

“They can come here,” Maal chimed in, looking at his goblet he moved so that its contents swirled. “Not all men are adventurous. Many will appreciate gentleness, loyalty…” He suddenly lifted his gaze to Lannahi’s goblet and then to her face. “…and good manners.”

And that was… what? A suggestion that by becoming a mistress of an influential member of court she could become a valuable source of information or a snide reminder that if she didn’t side with her siblings, her only solution would be to find another strong fae who could take care of her?

Lannahi realized that her fingers had tightened on the back of the chair and forced them to relax. She smiled sweetly and then uttered one of the vilest insults known to their kind.

“Boring.”