The Promised Queen (Forgotten Empires #3)- Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,116

problem, no matter how nobly intended—and I wondered what she’d say. “Vengeance isn’t necessarily redemption.”

Percy didn’t laugh as I’d expected. “No, but if redemption isn’t possible, then at least I won’t have to live with myself any longer. And you can return to live happily ever after with Her Highness, who deserves that much more than I.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Our plan will work. No one has to die.”

“Hmm. I’ll reserve judgment.” He gave me a wry, funny smile, then trailed a finger over my biceps. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in killing some time with me. Long, boring sail. Verisimilitude for our tale of being secret lovers.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m staying faithful to Lia.”

Percy raised a brow at me, the jewel at the tip winking. “Even though you’re not married anymore?”

“She might not be, but I am.” When he frowned, I shrugged. “I made a vow and I intend to keep it. I don’t care what Calanthe’s magic and marriage bonds dictate.” Does Sawehl’s sun cease to shine if Ejarat’s earth ignores him?

“I don’t think Her Highness views it the same way.”

I bared my teeth again, my grin friendlier this time but no less determined. “I plan to change her mind about that.”

Percy laughed and gripped my arm. “If anyone can do it, wolf, you can.”

* * *

At the end of the day—all of my duties to Calanthe dispensed with as well as they could be for the moment—I changed into a simpler gown, took myself to the map tower, and dismissed all my ladies but Zariah, who was taking her turn to watch over me. The tower provided seclusion, quiet, and also made me feel closer to Con to be in that place, where we’d once made love with such shattering intensity and intimacy that my eyes had revealed their true colors for the first time in so many years.

Besides all that, the tower boasted the longest view. That, along with the ambient magic of the map itself, should assist with the enchantment I hoped to employ. I was beginning to understand from Ambrose—and Con would laugh heartily at this—how magic truly worked. Taking advantage of a place already accustomed to revealing distances, to making the faraway clear to the eye, would ease the way for the enchantment I had in mind.

I also felt more than a little nervous at attempting to extend my magical influence beyond Calanthe, though my ladies had reported enthusiastically on their own practice that day. Their glowing delight at flexing their abilities helped to counter my nerves. And it came as a relief to know that someone besides myself was able to sense the wizard attacks—and that they’d had some success repelling them. I wasn’t alone in this.

I paced to the sand table set up on the side of the tower facing Yekpehr. It wasn’t the one from the Sand Salon, as we’d deprived the children long enough. I had, however, helped myself to some of their sand. As I’d asked, a smaller replica of the Sand Salon table had been set up, the magic-infused sand a smooth, nearly glassy surface in the moonlight.

Zariah had doused the lanterns and torches for me. That was going entirely on intuition—though most of this was—but I wanted nothing nearby to distract me from seeing the distant. In the gentle, tropical shadows, the Night Court far enough away that no music or sounds of revelry made it to my quiet tower, I waved a hand over the unblemished surface of the sand. It sifted musically in response to my will, the orchid ring wafting the sweet scent of Calanthe’s native magic. My realm’s magic and my own. Instead of asking the sand to build a model of anything, I instead formed the will to see what occurred far away.

I started with Vesno, a familiar extension for me, touching the wolfhound’s mind as I already had many times that day. Vesno greeted me with absolute joy. I had to laugh—no matter how many times I’d reached out to him, his enthusiasm remained as great as the first time. I returned the greeting, sending love. It had been a comfort to me throughout the long day of meetings, and the interminable formal dinner with the regional heads—the dinner Con had cleverly evaded having to attend—that I’d been able to see Con aboard the Last Resort through Vesno’s eyes, and know he was safe still.

Though when that inevitably changed, it would be the opposite of a comfort, I