All those years of planning to avoid the throne, and now she was coming back to take it.

The nobility would not like that. Her past plans were now salt in her wounds, and they would make it more difficult to hold the throne, especially if she wasn't there to babysit them and keep them out of trouble. They hated her, mainly because she had went out of her way to make things that way. No, she would have to do something about them too. But not until after she dealt with her father. Their threat looming over him would be central to her own plans to strip him of his crown.

The throne was the key. Sitting on that throne, she could drive the last stakes into her father's heart. She would be the matriarch of the Eram house, ruler of it, and she could have him and her sisters stripped of their titles, disowned, and cast out without a penny to their names. They would always be royalty, however, and would always be there to challenge her for the crown. But there were ways to persuade them that such lofty aspirations could be hazardous to their health.

Killing her father wasn't enough. When she was done, he was going to wish he had never ignored her warning to leave her alone.

She felt the presence of someone very large behind her. The fact that she didn't hear the clattering of claws told her it was Azakar. She glanced behind her and saw him. He was wearing a simple brown doublet and some rugged leather leggings, a heavy wool cloak over his shoulder to ward off the rain, but he had that wickedly huge broadsword belted at his waist. To anyone else, it would be a two-handed sword, but he whipped that thing around in one hand like it was a twig. She often forgot how awesome Azakar was, since he himself was dwarfed by her Vendari bodyguards. "Binter sent me up here to get you," Azakar said quietly to her. "You've stood out in the rain long enough."

"You don't have to look out for me, Zak," she said quietly, looking back out over the ocean again.

"I'm a Knight," he said bluntly. "One of my jobs is to protect Sorcerers. You happen to be the only one around, so that makes you my responsibility. Now come in out of the rain, or I'll carry you back down to your cabin."

"You're exaggerating, Zak," she said wistfully. "I'll be down in a few more minutes. I need time to think, that's all, and I do it better up here."

"Then I'll wait for you," he announced.

She looked at him, looked at the resolute look on his face, then snorted. "Oh, alright!" she snapped. "Let's go, already!"

She returned to her large suite in a foul humor. Sailor's Pride wasn't a warship, it was a personal conveyance ship. Its only job was to carry the rulers of the Eram house from one place to another, and because of that, the ship was much different from a standard clipper. It had a very tiny hold, and that space had been converted into rooms and barracks for the crew, the soldiers accompanying the rulers, and the rulers and their guests. Keritanima's cabin, or suite of three rooms, took up the entire stern of the clipper. Two rooms wasn't much on land, but on a ship, where space was a precious commodity, it was an immense chunk of floorplan. The rooms were large and extravagantly decorated, with gilded gold furniture, tapestries from all over the world, Eastern carpets, and Tellurian lamps and lanterns for light. The bedroom she slept in, with its marvelous stained glass windows looking out in the stern, was large enough for ten people, the bed itself large enough for four, and it spanned the entire width of the stern. There were chests and armoires, even a privy and a closet, all of them filled with expensive clothes and jewelry bought for her when they put into Dayise for supplies. Clothes she wouldn't touch. She still wore the same dress she'd had on when they captured her, and she had no intention of wearing their clothes. Miranda was in the middle of making her some dresses from material she managed to get in Dayise. She was there, in her favorite chair, her fingers moving with their amazing speed and precision as her needle and thread joined together two pieces of dark satin that were her dress. Binter and Sisska sat nearby, engaged in another game of chess, and Azakar took her wet cloak and hung it by the door before removing his own. Her friends, her only friends, on the entire ship.

"Highness," Miranda said calmly without looking up. "I'll have this dress finished in about an hour."

"Thank you, Miranda," Keritanima said with a huff of breath. "Binter, Sisska," she called.

The two Vendari looked at her in unison, two sets of dead black eyes that sent chills through the opponents they faced in combat. Keritanima absently touched the Weave, weaving together that weave of Air and Divine power that formed the wall of silence, the Ward that protected their conversations from being overheard. Wards and Illusions were the only weaves a Sorcerer could create that didn't dissipate when they stopped concentrating on them, but even those weren't permanent. She then wove together the complicated weave of Air, Fire, Mind, and Divine power that formed an Illusion. She wove it so it would appear as a wall of impenetrable blackness and laid it against the walls of the cabin, then adjusted it so it could only be seen from the other side looking in. To everyone in the cabin, it was invisible, but to someone standing on the outside looking in, they would see nothing but pure black. "Which of you has more rank in Vendari society?"

"I do, your Highness," Sisska answered immediately.

"How much?"

"I am kithas," she answered, a little uncertainly.

A kithas? Impressive. That meant she was blood-related to the sashka, or Great Chief, of the Vendari, a monarch that was subject to the Wikuni throne. "What I'm about to say won't be repeated again, alright?" she asked, and everyone nodded. "When we get back to Wikuna, I want you to go back to Vendaka, Sisska. I want you to go back there and organize something for me."

"What do you wish arranged?"

"I'd like a large complement of Vendari warriors to come to the Palace," she answered. "Vendari that will be there to protect the crown. At least ten thousand."

"This I can do, but it will look strange to the sashka that this comes from the Princess, and not the King."

"Then don't tell him who gave the order," she said. "Tell him the truth. That the house of Eram is calling up Vendari warriors, as is its right under the compact between Wikuna and Vendaka. And Sisska, I don't want you to repeat that to anyone but the sashka. I want it kept quiet."

Miranda gave Keritanima a searching look, and then she began to laugh. "I knew it!" she proclaimed.

"Knew what?" Azakar asked curiously.

"Kerri isn't going to go back and just play around!" she laughed, pounding her feet on the floor. "She's going to overthrow her father!"

Azakar gave Keritanima a shocked look, and even the Vendari looked a little taken aback.

"Is this true?" Binter asked bluntly.

Keritanima gave Binter a direct stare, her expression serene but determined. "He's gone too far, Binter," she said plainly. "And I mean more than just what he's done to me. The throne has lost its honor."

Binter and Sisska nodded sagely. "This is true," Binter agreed. "The throne of Wikuna has lost much honor. But to take it just to avenge yourself against your father brings even more shame to it."

"Who would you prefer on the throne, then? Him, or me?"

The simple question caused the massive Vendari to blink. Then he gave a toothy grin. "My personal preference would be you," he replied honestly. A Vendari couldn't answer any way other than honestly. "Your time with Tarrin and Allia has taught you humility, compassion, and respect. You would be a worthy and honorable Queen."

"Then I can count on your silence?"

"We are at your command, Highness," Sisska told her. "Command it, and it will be so."