Shouldering emotions he did not know how to express, Ammur Sonnen came to Calay Castle and insisted on seeing Queen Anjine. The army, and Mateo, had been gone for two weeks now, advancing toward Ishalem.
At first she was surprised by the blacksmith’s visit, then she felt a sharp stab of guilt: in their shared dark freefall of grief, Anjine and Mateo had reached out to each other, like finally touching a flame to the tinder they had built up for most of their lives. But she felt shamed by it. It had been her own weakness, and she knew Ammur Sonnen would see their actions as an insult to his beloved daughter.
Her skin grew cold. How had he known? Somehow the blacksmith must have heard a whispered rumor, maybe something from a maid who had noticed the queen’s absence that night. Why else would he come to the castle, asking to see her? Though she was the queen of Tierra, Anjine didn’t know how she could face the accusations of a grieving father.
But when the burly man was escorted into her private wing of the castle, Ammur bowed and averted his eyes. “I have finished my task, Majesty. I brought the fine suit of armor I promised to make for you. It’s about time you donned it, if you intend to lead the army in a few months.” Two of his apprentices followed him in from the entry hall, carrying components that rattled together. They pulled aside draping cloths to reveal their work.
Anjine, who had forgotten all about the blacksmith’s offer, caught her breath as she saw polished steel inlaid with ornate bronze work. The bright metal glinted in sunlight that streamed through the windows of her chamber. Words caught in her throat, and she felt a sudden dizziness of guilty relief. He had not come to accuse her of betraying Vicka’s memory, of taking advantage of Mateo’s grief. Ammur knew nothing about her love for Mateo; he’d come to honor her, to give her this special gift.
“The cuirass is thin but strong, Majesty, formed to cover your chest and back, yet granting you movement. It is more lightweight than the plate mail for your soldiers who will be in the thick of battle, fighting against Uraban scimitars.”
“I intend to be in the thick of things,” she said.
His brow furrowed. “Oh, this is more than a costume, Majesty. The suit will protect you from enemy arrows and blades. I would not want so much as a scratch to harm your skin.” He showed her the greaves, gauntlets, vambraces, and the airy helmet with its well-oiled visor. The Fishhook symbol had been inset in bronze in the proper places.
He had crafted the suit with great care. After Vicka’s death, Ammur must have buried himself in his work, intent on completing the armor, but she could see his unbounded sadness. She held up the helmet and felt proud. “Thank you, Ammur Sonnen.”
After the apprentices had spread out the components, the blacksmith said, “We must fit it, Majesty…if now is a convenient time?”
She picked up the breastplate, looked at the thin, flexible gauntlet. “Yes, now is a good time.” She felt a need to wear it, to be a warrior, protected by the blessings of Aiden as well as the love and care of her finest craftsman.
Enifir hurried in. “I will assist in dressing the queen.”
Ammur was flustered. “We are not dressing the queen, we are armoring her.” He retrieved a satchel of tools from his apprentices and took up his tongs, pliers, and hammer as if each were a surgeon’s implement. He and his young helpers worked to fit the queen’s armor, strapping on the cuirass, buckling the greaves, sliding the gauntlets into place over her hands.
With each piece that covered part of her body, Anjine felt more protected, more sheltered…and more walled off. That was how she needed to be, as the queen. She had to think of the big picture, of Tierra, of Ishalem, of the enemy. When the hard plate covered her chest, shielding her heart, she allowed herself to think of Mateo and how he had gone off alone. Soon, he and the army would reach the Ishalem wall.
Only yesterday, Anjine had dispatched Comdar Rief with the full Tierran navy. By now, one of her couriers should have gotten through the Corag mountains to deliver her message to Destrar Broeck. One of the three riders had returned, disheveled and disappointed that he had been unable to get through the snowy passes, but she had heard nothing from the two that were sent ahead of him.
She vowed that this would not be a disorganized strike, no matter how energetic her warriors might be. A few years ago, ninety foolhardy riders from Alamont Reach had dashed off on horseback to reclaim Ishalem, only to be slaughtered. And the more recent humiliating rout of the Tierran army at the wall, betrayed by ra’virs in their midst, had been another lesson. Anjine did not intend to fail again.
Not until she had won this war and crushed the Urecari enemy would she let herself think of Mateo. The human part of her missed him and longed to be with him, but the queen within chastised her for pondering personal happiness rather than the survival of her land and people.…
When the armor was fully fitted and in place, Anjine moved her arms and legs, then turned about. Ammur Sonnen regarded her movements with a critical eye, and added a finishing touch by attaching an embroidered cape displaying the green and blue colors of Tierra.
Enifir brought a looking glass, and Anjine performed a slow rotation, feeling comfortable and strong inside her carapace. “I am a formidable queen, a soldier for Aiden.”
“Yes, Majesty, you are,” said Ammur.
She would command her army to knock down the Uraban barricade that blocked the Aidenists from the holy city. Though the blacksmith’s eyes were still red and his cheeks gaunt, he gave her a faint hard smile, a satisfied smile. The apprentices stared at her with undisguised awe.
Enifir let out a long sigh. “Majesty, you have never looked so beautiful—or so terrifying. You will strike awe and fear into the hearts of the Urecari.”
“Good, that is how it should be.”