An Elder Sister's Dilemma

Alera tapped her fingers on the edge of the scrying mirror as she watched her sister march deeper into the enemy’s castle. She tasted blood as her teeth tore into the skin of her cracked lips. In the pit of her stomach, a thousand snakes writhed. 

Her younger sister, Jenel, was a hundred miles away, unarmed, all but unguarded, all but alone. She looked in every way a queen as she walked down the halls of their family’s enemy. She held her head high, her gold circlet glistening atop her raven dark hair in the rose-tinted mage lights, her eyes unflinching as she stared down the snake of a man, Lord Malek. 

If she felt any of the apprehension Alera now felt, Jenel hid it well. 

Alera waved a hand over her scrying mirror, zooming in on her sister’s face. She scrutinized the determined eyes, but still found none of the doubt or fear in them that turned Alera’s own stomach. 

She zoomed out again, expanding her field of view to include Lord Malek. 

He stood before his throne, his arms spread welcomingly to either side. He was a young man—only a year or two older than Jenel—with beady eyes and a twirling mustache. He was as much a greasy, slithering man as his father had been, no more deserving of trust than a rat in a granary. 

But Jenel said they should try to make peace. Jenel said he was different. 

And Jenel was queen, not Alera.  

Alera watched him closely for all the good it would do her. From here, from her keep in the family’s castle, no matter what treachery he might pull on her little sister, there was nothing she could do. 

Intellectually, she knew that. Intellectually, she understood. 

That understanding did nothing to settle the anxious fluttering of her heart or to stop the useless tapping of the mirror’s frame. 

And it certainly did nothing to stop her from watching through the mirror. 

What exactly she would do if one of Malek’s men drew a blade on her sister, she didn’t know. But it didn’t change how she wanted to see it if it did happen. 

Jenel stopped at the foot of the dais, nodding her head to Malek. He returned the gesture, stepping down to join her. They exchanged words but Alera could not hear them. Her mirror conveyed only images after all and Alera could only assume they were the usual pleasantries. 

Perhaps a “Thank you for coming,” from Malek. 

Perhaps a “Thank you for seeing me,” from Jenel. 

Oh, how Alera wished she’d convinced Jenel to take her familiar with her. Sure, the drakeling would have been an interesting fashion choice—potentially even an aggressive choice—draped over Jenel’s shoulders like a mink stole. But if she had, Alera could have listened in on their conversation through her familiar’s ears. 

And, should Malek turn violent, Alera could do something about it through the familiar to protect Jenel. 

Alera shook the thought away. Things weren’t going to get violent. Not while Jenel’s royal guard stood outside Malek’s gates. And it wasn’t as if Jenel had gone in completely alone. 

Her first knight stood unobtrusively to her side in full armor. She would die before she let something happen to Jenel. She’d use that sword at her side to strike down a hundred opponents before she let a soul touch her queen. 

Not that her presence kept Alera from biting down on her lip again. 

How many soldiers did Malek have at his disposal? Easily hundreds. Maybe thousands? 

Sure, they were talking amiably now. Sure, they might even be laughing. But if things took a turn, how many could the first knight chop down to get Jenel to the safety of the rest of her guard?

Enough, Alera told herself. Jenel had promised it would be fine. She’d promised that she would return safely. Had promised that she would arrange a favorable alliance between their kingdom and Malek’s.  

But that didn’t slow the tapping of her fingers on the mirror or the dancing of the snakes in her stomach. 

She was a powerful mage, for gods’ sake. Strong enough to decimate armies single-handedly. Powerful enough to alter the flow of rivers, to level mountains, to call down lightning from clear skies. She wasn’t a child in a storm at sea, meek and helpless. She didn’t just sit and stew in her fears. She did things about them. 

She acted.

But what was she supposed to do now? 

Jenel had asked her to guard the castle. She couldn’t just up and fly to Malek’s castle, not without proof something had or would go wrong. And by the time she arrived there—even with magic assisted flight—it would be too late to help Jenel. 

She forced herself to take a deep breath. 

All she could do was trust Jenel knew what she was doing. And she had to admit, it looked like she did. Both Jenel and Malek wore grins on their faces. Clearly, the mood was light. Malek waved for Jenel to follow him to another room. A more private space furnished with lush couches. Only Jenel’s knight and one of Malek’s men followed them. A quick but careful scan of the room suggested to Alera there were no assassins hiding just out of sight. 

Malek poured them both drinks, which Jenel took with a smile. 

Poison? Alera’s worrying mind asked immediately. She had four different spells that could detect poison and six other spells to cleanse poison from a body. If she had just accompanied Jenel there would be no worry. But here she was instead, watching from her tower, unable to help in the slightest.

They both sipped at their glasses. Jenel spoke, raising the glass a touch, clearly commenting on the amber liquid. Now Alera could only wonder, had she noticed the drink tasting off or was it a compliment to the flavor? She could only hope it was the latter. 

Jenel shifted in her seat, sliding closer to Malek. Had they begun talk of the alliance? Or were they still mid pleasantries? Alera hoped they had begun the proper talks. The sooner that started, the sooner it would be over, and the sooner she could relax. 

Jenel’s attention snapped to her knight, directing a few words at her. The knight frowned. An argument? Jenel repeated herself, waving the knight away. Malek chimed in, gesturing to his own guard. 

What were they talking about? Alera leaned in on her mirror, wishing she were better at reading lips.

Now both the knight and the guard looked upset, but both left the room without further complaint. 

Did Jenel need something? Had she sent her knight to fetch it from the caravan outside the castle? Had she really sent her only guard away as easily as that? 

It took everything Alera had not to fly to her sister’s side then and there. But if Malek had mischief planned, she’d never arrive before he completed it. And if she stayed, she would at least know what it was. 

So she squirmed in her chair, her eyes glued to her mirror, every hair on her arms standing on end. 

There was a curious look on Malek’s face as he turned his attention back to Jenel. She smiled at him, leaning in close. She whispered something in his ear. 

Something which made his eyes go wide. He recoiled, his mouth forming a surprised “o”.

She chuckled, taking another sip of her drink. She asked something over the top of her glass, a mischievous light flickering in her eyes. 

Malek’s lips moved slowly, his eyes fixed on the table before them. Whatever she’d asked required quite a bit of thought. 

What was it? The mood of the room still didn’t look like business, but his reaction wasn’t one to a pleasantry. The only thing Alera could say for sure was that Jenel had taken charge of the conversation. 

A good sign. 

The only good sign so far. 

He nodded, turning to face her, a “yes” on his lips. 

Jenel’s grin spread and like lightning, she leaned in again, planting her lips directly on his. 

This time Alera’s shock matched Malek’s.

But that couldn’t be right. 

That was her little sister. Her sweet little sister. Iron Queen of the kingdom. 

Tough as nails to her ministers. 

Sweet as candy to her family. 

And before her… That was the snake Malek. The man whose grandfather had taken territory after territory from them. Whose father had lied and lied again about treaties to return them. 

He was a grudging ally, not… not… 

Malek’s shock melted before Alera’s eyes. A hand found its way to the small of Jenel’s back. An arm wrapped around Malek’s shoulder. 

This couldn’t be happening. Alera wanted to look away. This wasn’t why she was watching.

But this had to be a trick. Charm magic? Love potion? 

There was no way her sweet sister could have fallen for that man naturally. 

Was there?