The Oracle's Queen by Lynn Flewelling

looking for anyone. She’d been staring down into the paved yard below the tower, gauging yet again whether or not she’d die at once if she jumped. It would be such a simple matter. The parapet was low, hardly up to her waist. She could stand on it, or simply climb over and let go. She didn’t think Tomara was strong enough to stop her.
    A moment’s courage and she would be free from this dishonorable captivity.
    If Lord Lutha hadn’t startled her, she might have managed it tonight. Instead, his brief, friendly gesture had sent her shrinking back from the edge, worrying that Tomara had noticed her impulsive response.
    But she just looked up from her handiwork and smiled. “It’s a chilly night, my lady. Close the door and I’ll make us some tea.”
    Nalia sat at the small writing desk and watched as Tomara set about preparing the pot, but her thoughts strayed back to Lutha’s kind gesture. She pressed a hand to her breast, blinking back tears.
How could something as simple as a wave to a stranger in the night make my heart race like this?
Perhaps because it had been the closest thing to simple human kindness she’d known in the weeks since this nightmare had descended?
    If I had the courage to go back out and do as I planned
,
would he still be there to see? Would he be sad that I was dead? Would anyone?
    She doubted it. Korin, and the few servants and guards she was allowed to see—even Niryn—they all called her Consort now, but she was nothing but a prisoner, a pawn in their game. How could such a thing have happened?
    S he’d been so happy, growing up in Ilear. But Niryn—the man she’d called guardian, and then lover—he had betrayed her with breathtaking cruelty, and now he expected her thanks.
    â€œIt’s safer here, my darling,” he told her, when he’d first brought her to this awful, lonely place. Nalia had hated it the moment she’d set eyes on it, but she’d tried to be brave. After all, Niryn had promised he could come to her more often.
    But he hadn’t, and a few months later madness took the garrison. One faction of soldiers, the ones with the red hawks on their grey tabards, attacked the Cirna guard. The sounds that came to her window from the yards that night had been horrifying. She’d cowered in her chamber with her nurse and little page, thinking the world was ending.
    Niryn had come that night, but not to save her. With no warning or explanation he’d ushered in an unkempt, hollow-eyed young stranger who stank of blood and sweat and wine.
    Niryn, who’d played with her as a child and taught her the joys of the bedchamber and made her forget her own flawed reflection—that monster had simply smiled and said, “Lady Nalia, allow me to present your new husband.”
    She’d fainted dead away.
    When she’d come around again she was lying on her bed and Prince Korin was sitting there, watching her. He must not have realized she was awake at first, because she caught the look of revulsion on his face just before it disappeared. He, all bloody and stinking, the invader of her chamber, looking at
her
that way!
    They were alone, and she cried out and cowered back from him, thinking he meant to rape her.
    To his credit, Korin had been kind. “I’ve never forced a woman in my life,” he told her. He was handsome under all that grime, she couldn’t help noting, and so very earnest. “You are of royal blood, a kinswoman. I have no wish to dishonor you.”
    â€œThen what do you want?” she asked faintly, pulling the coverlet up to her chin over her shift.
    He’d looked a bit confused at that. Perhaps he thought Niryn’s cold introduction was explanation enough. “My father, the king, is dead. I am king now.” He took her hand in his dirty one and tried to smile, but it was a sickly attempt. His gaze kept straying to the livid mark that ran like spilled