The King of Attolia (The Queen's Thief, #3)

by Megan Whalen Turner

and waiting for you to make your move.” “I made it already,” said Attolia. “On my wedding night. You have heard no doubt the events of our wedding night?” Relius...

“I think so. I haven’t asked either of them outright. Would you like to hear more romance of the evening? He told me that the Guard should be reduced by half, and I threw an ink jar at his head.” “Is that when he cried?” “He ducked,” said Attolia dryly. Grown more confident of the queen’s humor, Relius said, “I had not pictured you for a fishwife.”

“The Guard,” Relius said thoughtfully. “Your own pet worry,” said Attolia. “Will you reduce it?” “You know why I have not. Because I cannot,

not with the Mede raising its armies and my barons still divisive. The Guard is the loyal heart of my forces.”

“And your barons will go on being divisive so long as Eugenides is a figur...

“And Eugenides is resisting being king. And?” prompted Relius. Attolia raised her hands in a mockery of helplessness. “I agreed to reduce the Guard.” Relius wait...

Teleus and have Teleus agree.” Relius laughed outright. He was sufficiently healed that no pain forced him to stop. The queen said, with a ladylike chuckle, “...

When you told me I could install an okloi general just as soon as I had the approval of the council of barons.” “And I was right,” said Relius. “Once you had ...

install anyone you wished.” “Am I not right?” “Entirely right. Teleus won’t bow to superior force. He won’t bow to reason either, and damn his pigheadedness, h...

bow to a king. If Teleus thinks Eugenides is a king, it will only be because he is one. It is a brilliant strategy, My Queen.” “It is good to...

The events of the state rolled on. The queen showed every sign of affection for her king, and it was accepted as a necessary artifice.

the assassins died in the queen’s prison after revealing that his services had been provided to the King of Sounis by Nahuseresh, the former Ambassador to Attolia from the Mede Empire.

The attendants stood listening to the muffled sounds of destruction. That they could hear anything at all was indicative of the violence of the proceedings on the far side of the heavy wooden door.

“The person who describes this to the queen will be flayed.” The king spoke quietly.

“Our little king doesn’t like people trying to assassinate him.” “He isn’t angry because someone tried to kill him,” Philologos said sharply.

“He isn’t angry because Nahuseresh tried to have him killed,”

Philologos told them. “He is angry because he can’t go kill Nahuseresh in return.” “Because he is king,” agreed Hilarion. “Not because he’s king,” Philologos said, disgusted by their dull wits. “Because he has

only one hand,” he said, voicing the king’s bitte...

“That’s what he doesn’t want the queen to know about.”

The king looked at him, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that many words in a row. You sounded almost articulate. I was thinking of Nahuseresh,” said the

king, getting back to his subject. He looked over his shoulder at Costis. “Do you know, you can’t strangle a man with one hand?” he said very seriously. “It’s probably why I have only one. It narrows one’s options. I may make a poor king

with one hand, but the gods know I’d be no king at all if I had two.” “Your Majesty . . .” The king rubbed his hand over his face. “And I was just thinking of yo...

“You present me with a difficulty, Costis, as I owe you something better than what you are in line for now—death by falling roof tile.” Diverted, Costis said, “That was an accident,” and reconsidered even as he spoke. The old

guard leader, and a stray lieutenant around behind me wherever I go. To be honest,” the king admitted, “I didn’t know. You just told me. All I had was an educated guess because it’s a fairly common form of assassination.

There’s the true course of political savvy for you, good guesses. Tell me, in the course of your blundering innocence, have you noticed any other attempts on your life?” Costis thought a moment. “Yes,” he said,

“Yes,” agreed the king. “It’s a dangerous thing to be seen as the confidant of a king. Knife fights in wineshops, aggressive drunks, and a

“I had hoped that your very obvious outrage at being dropped like a used glove would have protected you, but obviously it hasn’t.

“Oh, the wine. The wine, Costis, is to help hide the truth. It doesn’t work. It never has, but I try it every once in a while just in case something in the

nature of wine might have changed.” “The truth, Your Majesty?” The king cocked his head at him. “I’m not going to tell you, Costis, you idiot. I’m trying to bury it, remember? Hide it from myself,

hide

it from the gods. Because not wanting the prize the gods have arranged for you—that just might offend the hell right out of them. If you are going to reject the gods’ re...

“You can’t let them know that you hate being surrounded every minute of every day by people who think you should be acting like a king, and that you ca...

to prating idiots tell you how lucky you are while a man you hate is laughing his guts out on the far side of the Black Straits, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about that b...

first time I’ve ever been caught in something I can’t get out of?” His laughter was bitter. “Because I don’t want out of it, Costis. I’m terrified that if they know how much I hate it, they might take it away.”

realizing what he’d just said, all that he’d admitted out loud. “Oh, my god,” he said, “the wine isn’t working, is it?”

One foot stepped out over the abyss. The king

reached with his hand and caught at nothing and, though it was impossible, still hung there, suspended, over the open air. “My god,” the king whispered, not in prayer.

And Costis heard, as clearly as he’d heard the king speaking, another voice...

Then the king was falling toward Costis, and Costis was tossing the wineskin asid...

“No ‘Glory shall be your reward’ for me. Oh, no, for me, it is, ‘Stop whining’ and ‘Go to bed.’” He snorted. “I should know better. Never call

Nothing would induce Costis to say out loud that the king had almost fallen from the palace wall and that Costis had seen him manifestly saved by the God of Thieves. The king smiled. “Cat got your tongue?”

eventually the day must come when the god will let him. Whether I am on a rafter three stories up or on a staircase three steps up, I am in my god’s hands. He will keep me safe, or he will not, here or on the stairs.”

“Can I ask for something?” The king appeared to think. “You can ask,” he said. “I’m king, Costis, not a genie. I don’t grant wishes.” “Come to sword training with the Guard in the morning.”

king looked up, Costis swung at his head. Costis wasn’t close, and the king jumped back. The sword passed harmlessly in front of his nose. “Costis, what do you think you are doing?”

“Sparring, Your Majesty.” “Most people cross swords before they spar and they say something introductory like ‘Begin!’ before they swing.” “We can cross swords if you will put yours up,

Your Majesty.” “But I don’t want to spar.” “I didn’t think you would,” Costis said, and swung again. The king jumped back again. He still hadn’t ...

“Dammit, Costis, have you lost your mind?” “No, Your Majesty.” “I am not going to spar with you.” “Then I am ...

“I’ll hang, Your Majesty,” said Costis, cheerfully. “Assuming I’m not tortured.” “And you are thinking I wouldn’t want that to happen?” “I know you don’t.” “Only because I have another job for you to

do.” Costis smiled. The king scowled. “This is extortion.” Costis lifted his sword up. The king didn’t want him to die, and not because of an errand that needed doing. The king had dismissed

Costis flushed, remembering the king’s comment at their first practice together. He had sparred for weeks with the best swordsman he’d ever encountered in his life and was no better for it because