SWORDPOINT DIPLOMACY 27

Rose didn’t look at the body as it passed her. She stared straight ahead, seeing very little except the next place to put her foot. There was a twinge of pain every time her injured leg hit the road.

The faint sounds of wood scraping and heavy bags being moved around drifted up to her. The supplies were being taken off of one of the carts, so that it could be used to take the body back to the capital.

It wasn’t subtle, exactly, but no one would know why the cart was being turned around. What mattered now was getting the body back home, so that it could be burnt and that she could be crowned.

Her stomach lurched. She kept walking. Celestin was at her right, and a whole group of officers trailed behind them. Marcel had been lost in that group. She didn’t have the mental energy to spare for worrying about him right now. Keeping him away from Celestin was the best thing to do, anyway. Celestin would recognize Marcel. He’d spent enough time overseas in his capacity as an Intelligence officer to recognize royalty from the bordering country.

Marcel would know to find her. He wasn't totally helpless.

Her boot squelched in a dark patch. Belatedly, Rose recognized she'd put her foot in mud.

“With your majesty’s permission, I’ll gather the officers for a meeting,” Celestin said. There was comfort in his low, raspy voice. “I recommend that we make no announcement until you’ve returned to the capital, and that we have your Coronation within the week.”

Her left boot was oddly heavy. It was probably dragging a ton of mud. “We don’t need to invite people, right?”

Celestin paused and glanced down at her. “We can gather sufficient witnesses among the priesthood and the nobility who are home,” he said. “Your sister will serve to represent the royal family, and receive your titles.”

Wait, what? Rose blinked, processing that.

“You think that Esperance should be my heir? Not Etienne?” Rose wrinkled her forehead. “She’s twelve.”

Celestin didn’t let his facial expression change, but she had the distinct impression that he had a strong opinion on this. “Yes, your majesty.”

Rose felt oddly insulted on her twin’s behalf. “What’s so wrong with Etienne?” She frowned at the road ahead of them. They were nearly back to the camp already. “He’s perfectly competent. People like him, and he is intelligent.”

“I agree,” Celestin said smoothly. “The last thing that we need is a succession crisis or a debate over which twin should inherit. Your sister is not ready to rule. That’s why she should be the heir.”

“...Oh,” Rose said, feeling small. Right. People were going to talk. No matter what kind of gag order they put out, it had been her hand that killed -

Rose flinched away from that truth. She couldn’t look at it yet.

The important thing was that she would be blamed. Not everyone would want her on the throne, and it was better if they didn’t have a viable alternative. If killing her gave the throne to a child, less people would be willing to hire an assassin.

‘Etienne might find it funny,’ she thought bleakly. ‘He’s never been considered a threat to me before this.’

He wouldn’t try to oppose her, of course. He wouldn’t fight her for the throne. Rose didn’t even think he wanted it.

The sun was still hot overhead. It was barely past noon. It was just so wrong. How was the sun shining? The King was dead. How could it be such a normal day?

‘Maybe this isn’t real,’ Rose thought longingly. ‘I could go back. Just two hours. If I can go back that far, I would be more careful with my words. I wouldn’t provoke Father. Or maybe I would take Marcel and just run, run before he could confront me.’

The fantasy ended when they got back to the main camp. Rose had to face reality.

‘I should be happy.’ The thought tasted poisonous. ‘I can just end the war now. I don’t need to sneak around.’

Well. She let Celestin go and ducked into the meeting space to wait. It was blessedly dark and cool inside. If it wasn't for the jangling and footsteps she could hear from outside, it would have been a respite.

‘I can’t just unilaterally end a war. We have four armies in enemy territory. I can’t tell them all to just turn around- oh, hells, are they already moving forward? They might get their last orders from Father before I can reach them.  What would I do with all the prisoners? And the places that we’ve captured? I need- I need to coordinate with Marcel’s parents,’ Rose realized. ‘It takes both sides to end a war. If we just retreat, they won't know we're actually done. We'd probably just get attacked from behind to take advantage of the confusion.'

Perhaps he could negotiate on their behalf?

Rose wanted that to be true, but it probably wasn’t. She’d talk with him when she got him alone, but it was very likely that he didn’t have the authority to end a war. She’d look ridiculous trying to play at diplomacy.

She was suddenly weary. Rose looked around, wishing there was somewhere more comfortable to sit down. Her options were the ground or one of the wooden chairs.

Rose picked a chair. She put her head in her hands and massaged at the tight spot above and behind her ears.

Distantly, she heard conversation. She didn't pay it any mind until it came closer.

Something about one of the voices caught her attention. Rose lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at the entrance. Marcel? Was that Marcel talking out there?

"Understood, thank you."

Kian. A wave of relief flooded through her. Rose stood before she knew what she was doing.

"Kian?" She called out. Then she flinched at how plaintive her voice was. Pathetic. Rose was still cringing when Kian strode into the tent. His posture was perfect but he was moving a little too quickly to seem calm.

"Princess," he said, eyes fixed on her. They were wide.

Something about the intensity stole her breath away.

"I am glad to see you well." He took one halting step towards her. Then he seemed to remember himself. A flush traveled over his cheeks. He hid it with a bow. "Forgive my impertinence. You called for me?"

Rose thought about telling him that he didn't have to be so formal. But it was something of a relief to have a pattern of social behavior to fall back on. So she nodded at him. "You seem well," she remarked. It was true. So far as she could see, he was uninjured. "You have no ill effects from - from what you drank?" She stuttered over the words she didn't say. The drug, the wine, my wine.

Kian blinked slowly. "There are no lasting effects." The corners of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly. "I appreciate your concern. I am surprised to find you here," he changed the subject. "I was led to believe that you would be en route to the encampment."

She felt her face twitch. She couldn't answer.

Whatever he saw on her face, Kian looked uncomfortable. "I apologize," he started.

Rose raised a hand to cut him off. "It's fine," she said, forcing her tone to stay level. "Plans have changed. I will likely not return to the encampment at all."

'To say the least.'

His eyes went wide. Kian gave the subtlest glance to the side, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

She should say nothing. She didn't owe him an explanation, and she agreed when Celestin said they ought not announce things yet.

"The King is dead." Her voice was so much steadier than it should have been.

Kian went very still.

"I will be returning to the Capital." She took a deep breath. It hadn't been as hard to say as she'd thought.

"Shall I come with you?"

In no way had she expected that response. She stared at him. Kian looked back placidly. He was still waiting in parade rest.

Rose blinked. She focused on his calm expression, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. "I…" She was tempted. Shouldn't he stay with his step father? Duke Harrod would want Kian around.

'Well, we can't all live our lives to make people's fathers happy. Duke Harrod should probably just be grateful that Kian doesn't imitate me.'

"If you would like to, you would be welcome," Rose decided. She swallowed. She'd feel better with a guard who liked her as a person. It wasn't like there was a shortage of King's…. Queen's guard. She took a shuddering breath. Anyway. There were enough guards, but they might not all be that enthusiastic about her assuming the throne. It was difficult to know who would be loyal to the crown and who was loyal to Father.

'It's probably much less complicated to inherit if you didn't kill your predecessor,' Rose thought, finding it bleakly funny. 'Certainly in the future, I will try not to kill anyone whose job I could inherit. No promises, though.'

Oh, right. Kian might deserve to know more. Rose bit her lip and hesitated. "You may not wish to come," she started. "I would appreciate your presence. However -"

"I don't wish to know the details," Kian said. He gave her a wry smile. "I don't need to know more until it affects my job."

'That is an objectively insane sentiment.'

"...Are you certain?" Rose frowned. "There is a pretty significant issue."

Kian shook his head. "I don't want to know the details of interactions within royalty when there's sudden deaths," he said flatly. "It's bad for one's health, when one is minor nobility."

She squinted at him. "Fair enough," Rose said, a little confused by his lack of curiosity but finding it a relief.

'This might be the kind of thing that the Duke wants him to improve on,' she realized. 'If Etienne agreed to follow a probable parricide to a secondary location, I would be so stressed for his continued survival.'

Wait. Something about his phrasing stuck with her.

'…Ah. He's definitely put that together. He knows that the issue is that I may be implicated.' Rose felt a little relief. 'He doesn't want to be involved in a possible crime, but he wants to support me.'

It seemed like a delicate balance, but she would happily accept it.

"Your Majesty," called Marcel from somewhere outside.

Rose took a moment to recognize the voice. He'd pitched his voice to be higher and less distinctive, foreign consonants softened by an airy affected quality.

She glanced at Kian, whose expression was bland and patient. "Come in."

Marcel stepped in, immediately taking off his helmet. Sweat was dripping down his face. He shook his head a little as the helmet came off, and tucked it under his arm. "That was stressful," he said wryly. "Are things always so exciting here?"

The disdainful look that Kian gave him would have made a lesser man die of shame.

Marcel froze. "Good afternoon," he said weakly. Belatedly, he straightened his posture to parade rest. "I've come with a message for the prin- Queen."

Kian turned slightly towards Marcel. He raised an eyebrow.

"I'll hear it later," Rose said, eyes darting between the two with amusement. "Kian, this man might be coming with us."

Now the judgmental look was aimed at her.