They stared at me, and I saw the understanding in their eyes. Madam Rathbone nodded. “Enough and then some.”
* * *
I walked, trying to ignore the rattle of the belts and weapons of the guard escort trailing behind me. They reverberated like an entire marching army in the midst of the peaceful marketplace of wagons, but the king’s orders were to be followed to the letter, six guards and not one less. I stopped to check on Dihara first, then went in search of Natiya.
Like Dihara, Natiya had been orphaned when she was a baby. Her parents’ wagon had lost a wheel and tumbled down a mountainside. By some miracle Natiya had been spared, and together the tribe had raised her. Dihara, Reena, they had all been her mothers.
I found her down at the river’s edge, alone, staring at the calm rippling waters, supervising a bevy of fishing lines thrown into the water. The guards hung back, and I sat down beside her, but her focus on the river remained constant, as if it flowed with dreams and memories.
“They told me you were here,” she said, still staring straight ahead.
“Thanks to you,” I answered. With a single finger, I gently turned her chin so she had to look at me. Her large brown eyes glistened.
“I frightened a man twice my size with that little knife. He had hurt a small child, and I threatened to cut off his nose. You took a stand, Natiya. It helped me to take one too.”
She looked back at the river. “My stand didn’t go well.”
“Neither did mine. That will never stop me from taking them. Once we fear to take a stand, tyranny will have won.”
“Then why do I feel that we’ve lost everything?”
I pulled in a slow, shaky breath, feeling the price she had paid. “There are more battles to be fought, Natiya. This isn’t the end.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “It is for Dihara.”
A sickening twinge wrenched my chest. This was Natiya’s reality—and mine. Were any losses worth the gains? I struggled with the same doubts I saw in her eyes. Dihara had sent me here to speak to her, but really, what did I have to offer? I was still trying to find my own way.
“Once, when I was feeling despair over bad fortune, Dihara told me we’re all part of a greater story—one that transcends even our own tears. You’re part of that greater story now too, Natiya. You listened to the truth speaking within you. It may not seem like it right now, but you’re stronger today than you were yesterday. Tomorrow, you’ll be even stronger.”
She turned to look at me, the same defiance in her face as the day I’d left her in the vagabond camp. “I want to go with you,” she said.
My stomach gripped. I wasn’t prepared for this. I saw the hunger in her eyes, but I also saw Aster. It filled me with fear and renewed grief. I wouldn’t let this part of the story be hers.
“Not yet, Natiya. You’re too young—”
“I’m thirteen now! And a woman—the same as you!”
My blood rushed and my thoughts tumbled like a thousand tiny stones in a swollen river. “Cha liev oan barrie,” I said. “Your time will come. I promise. For now, your family still needs you. Be strong for them.”
She stared at me and finally nodded, but I was certain she remained unconvinced, and my own shortcomings seemed evident again.
A fishing line tugged, and she jumped up, giving it a sharp jerk to snag the hook deep in the fish’s mouth.
* * *
I sat on the watchtower wall looking out at the rolling plain. An orange ball of fire settled into the earth, the rippling line of the horizon slowly swallowing it up as if it were nothing, as if all the sun’s timeless power were merely warm frosted confection. Gone in a single bite.
All that was left in its wake was an orange glow that lit the edges of spiked ruins in the distance. Rafe said legend claimed the ruins were what remained of a great stronghold that once held all the wealth of the Ancients. Now the works of the demigods were little more than scars on a landscape—reminders that even the great, with all their wealth and knowledge, can fall.
Somewhere beyond all that, on an unseeable horizon, was Morrighan and all the people who lived there, going about their lives, unaware. My brothers. Pauline. Berdi. Gwyneth. And more patrols like Walther’s who would meet their deaths, as unaware as I had once been.
I want to go with you.
Where I was going was no place for Natiya. It was hardly a place for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RAFE
“May I have a turn?”
I wiped the sweat dripping from my face with my sleeve. I knew a crowd was watching my sparring exercises with other soldiers, but I hadn’t known Lia was among them. I turned, following the sound of her voice. She hopped down from the paddock rail and walked toward me. I waved off the soldier who was poised to spar with me next.
I had seen her use a sword in our escape from the Sanctum, but that was in surprise attacks, and I didn’t know how well she really knew how to spar. It wouldn’t hurt for her to expand her skills.
“All right,” I answered.
“I could use the practice,” she said as she approached. “I had training with my brothers, but they emphasized dirty fighting.”
“There’s no other kind when you’re fighting for your life. First thing, let’s find a sword that’s suited for you.”
I walked over to the rack of practice swords, testing their weights. “Try this one.” It was a lighter sword that wouldn’t fatigue her arm as quickly but still had a decent reach. I selected a shield for her too.
Sven stepped forward. “Your Majesty, is this wise?”
Lia leveled a death stare at him. I knew she was already weary of every decision being deferred to me. “We’ll be fine, Colonel.”
“Astute move, Your Majesty,” Lia said under her breath. “Or I might have had to take your steward down.”
We went through a few slow thrusts and parries so she could get the feel of her weapon and then I applied more pressure.
“Don’t use your sword to block or defend unless you have to,” I said as our blows reverberated through the yard. “Advance! The sword is a killing weapon, not a defensive one. If you’re using it to defend, you’re missing a chance to kill.” I showed her how to use her shield to deflect and unbalance her opponent to her best advantage, while at the same time using her sword to thrust and cut.
“Attack!” I yelled, baiting her just as I did the other soldiers. “Attack! Don’t wait for me to wear you down! Keep me on the move! Let surprise be your ally!”
She did, in earnest. The dust kicked up around us.
The soldiers hooted. I had no doubt it was the first time they’d ever seen a woman sparring in the work yard—with their king, no less.
Her reflexes were fast and her concentration dogged—excellent qualities for a swordsman, but I had the advantage of height, weight, and strength, as most opponents she might face would.
To her advantage, she seemed to naturally understand the concept of movement and timing. Some soldiers planted their feet like trees, as if their sheer size would keep them upright. I had seen many of them felled by soldiers not much bigger than Lia. Her face glistened with sweat, and I was caught by a surge of pride.
“Watch your shins,” someone called out. I glanced toward the crowd. Kaden. Our audience had grown.
Her sword skimmed my ribs, and cheers erupted. Like a wolf tasting blood, her thrusts became ravenous, her movement a graceful chaos that kept me increasingly alert. I advanced, pressing harder, and her strikes slowed against the pressure. I knew every sinew in her shoulder had to be burning with fire.
“Go for the kill,” I yelled, “before the choice is taken from you.”
She was a fast learner, using her shield well, deflecting my blows expertly, but then a piercing horn sounded, dividing her attention. I pulled back on my swing, but not before the flat of the sword caught her in the jaw and she went flying backward to the ground. The shocked groan of the crowd ricocheted through the yard, and I r
ushed to her side, falling to the ground.
I gathered her into my arms. “Lia! My gods. Are you all right?” Soldiers closed in around us and I yelled for someone to get the physician.
She grimaced, reaching up to hold her jaw where the redness was already turning blue. “Stupid,” she hissed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Not you. Me. Walther told me a hundred times I couldn’t let in distractions.” She pushed my hand away and opened her mouth, testing to see that her jaw was in working order. “I still have all my teeth. Stop fussing.”
The horn sounded again. “What is it?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure. “A warning or a welcome.” I looked up at the watchtower, and a soldier waved the Dalbreck banner. “Our soldiers!” he yelled.
The rotation of troops had arrived.
I’d be able to leave for Dalbreck with Lia at last.
CHAPTER THIRTY
That evening, no one mentioned my tumble, whether to spare me or their king I wasn’t sure. But if Sven said anything, I was prepared to point out that two of Rafe’s sparring partners had fared worse—one a knot on the head, and the other a cracked knuckle. I hadn’t sparred with Rafe to prove a point the way I had with Kaden. I knew a time might come when I would need greater sword skills, and I wanted to learn from the best.
With the arrival of the troops, everyone lingered over dinner, then dessert, eagerly eating up news of home from the newly arrived Officers Taggart and Durante.
While both officers were relieved to learn that Prince Jaxon had been found alive, I noticed Rafe grew quieter as the evening progressed and news was shared. Some of the reports were lackluster—betrothals, harvests, promotions in the ranks—but when it turned to the squabbles among the assembly and cabinet, and the rumblings of generals, Rafe’s eyes narrowed and his fingers curled around the arm of his chair.
“We leave in two days. It will all be addressed soon enough,” he said. His tense composure didn’t escape the officers and further news of grumbling generals stalled on their lips.
Colonel Bodeen turned the conversation back to a lighter topic—the party that was planned for the next evening—and he noted the good timing of the troops’ arrival. Apparently Officers Taggart and Durante were well-versed in Bodeen’s celebrations.
“Be prepared, ladies,” Taggart said. “There aren’t enough of you to go around. You’ll be dancing all night.”
“That’s fine by me,” Vilah said. The other women chimed in with agreement.
“You too, Your Highness,” Captain Hague said, lifting his glass to me.
This prompted another round of toasting, this time to dancing. Soon the conversation turned elsewhere and I became lost in my own thoughts, as detached from the party plans as Rafe seemed to be. I fingered the bone in my pocket, feeling a strange emptiness that a party wasn’t able to fill. I had accumulated a small pile of bones back in my tent. It was a habit I couldn’t let go of: the jingling tokens of remembrance and worry for those I had left behind. I feared the cruelties they would suffer at the hands of the Komizar, and worried for the greater needs that still lay ahead. Morrighan could be extinguished—snuffed from memory with only a few broken memorials to prove we were ever there.
Shouts jostled me from my thoughts. Everyone startled, looking toward the door. An angry scuffle was going on outside on the veranda. The door slivered open, and a soldier entered, apologizing profusely for the interruption. “We found one, Your Majesty, just like you said. Caught him lurking around the back wall. He’s a small one, but wild. He slashed one of our guards on the arm before we could tackle him. He’s demanding to see, er—” He looked down briefly as if embarrassed. “He wants to see the princess. He says he knows her?”
Rafe, Kaden, Griz, and I were all on our feet.
“Bring him in,” Rafe said.
We heard more yelling, then two guards stumbled in trying to control their prisoner.
“Hold your place before I knock your head into the next world!” one guard growled.
The prisoner locked eyes with me, and my heart stopped.
It was Eben.
Though I knew better than to fawn over him, I couldn’t stop myself and ran, pulling him from the guard’s grip. Kaden and Griz were right behind me.
“Eben!” I drew him into my arms. “Thank the gods you’re alive!”
His arms circled around me, unashamed, and I felt all the ribs and angles of his thin body. I pushed back an arm’s length to look at him. His cheekbones were sharp, and his eyes hollow and circled with shadows. He was half starved and looked more like a wild animal than a boy. Dried spattered blood covered his clothing.
I saw emotion well in Griz’s and Kaden’s faces. Kaden stepped forward, grabbed fistfuls of Eben’s shirt, and pulled him roughly into his arms. “Drazhone.”
Brother.
Eben was their comrade. A Rahtan in training.
Griz did the same, then checked a scrape on Eben’s cheek. When I turned from our tight-knit circle, I saw Rafe watching us, not with curiosity like everyone else, but with dark scrutiny. Kaden’s shoulder brushed up against mine, and I stepped away, creating some distance between us.
Eben’s attention shot to Rafe, and he eyed him suspiciously. He had only known Rafe as Dalbreck’s emissary, and I realized he probably still didn’t know Rafe’s true position here. His gaze shifted to Jeb, once a filthy Vendan patty clapper, hardly recognizable now with his neatly combed hair and pristine clothing. Next he looked at Sven, the one-time governor of Arleston, who now wore a high-ranking officer’s uniform, and then Orrin, the governor’s mute guard, also in Dalbreck uniform, drinking from a crystal goblet.
Orrin grinned. “Surprise,” he said lifting his glass toward Eben.
I made introductions.
“Fikatande chimentras,” Eben said under his breath.
I looked at Rafe, wondering just how many of the choice Vendan words he knew.
“Yes, we’re liars,” Rafe said, answering my question. He leaned forward, aiming a frigid stare at Eben. “We lied to save the princess’s life. Do you object to that?”
Eben’s chin lifted, defiant, but then he shook his head.
Rafe sat back in his chair. “Good. Now, someone bring the boy some food. We have talking to do.”
Colonel Bodeen suggested it was a good time for the officers and their wives to retire for the evening. They all left except for Captain Hague.
It was more like an interrogation than talking. Rafe, Kaden, Griz, Tavish, Sven, and I all took turns asking questions as Eben wolfed down food.
He had barely escaped with his life. He had been in the far eastern paddock with Spirit when they came for him. His voice wobbled when he mentioned the name of the young foal that he had to leave behind. He was oblivious to what had happened back on the Sanctum terrace, but he saw Trahern, Iver, and Syrus—one of the tower guards—kill a paddy clapper without a word. He knew something was wrong, and when they caught sight of him, he knew he was next. He ran, hiding in stalls, barns, between stacks of hay, wherever he could as they chased him down. Finally Syrus cornered him in a loft. Eben killed him with a pitchfork in his chest. He spent the rest of the day moving from one hiding place to the next, finally ending up in an abandoned room in the South Tower, where he was trapped for two days. That was where he pieced together what had happened. Because of his close association with Griz, he had been targeted. Anyone who was known to have been intimately speaking with the princess, Griz, Kaden, or Faiwel was suspected as a traitor and systematically hunted down. He heard the screams of the slaughtered. He closed his eyes, and I thought he might not open them again. When he did, his lids were heavy and his eyes swam in his head. It wasn’t terror but exhaustion undoing him. His head lolled briefly to the side. With a full stomach, he was barely able to stay conscious.
“Where did you stay in the South Tower?” Kaden asked.
“Right below the Komizar’s room. I could hear almost everything through
the flue.”
“Do you know who he sent to hunt us down?” I asked.
Eben rattled off the names of everyone sent after us. He saw them leave from his hiding place. We had killed everyone he mentioned back in the Valley of the Giants—except for one who hadn’t been among our attackers. Malich. Which meant he was still out there somewhere.
“Eben,” I asked, before I lost him completely, “is the Komizar ruling now?”
Eben looked at me, fear briefly pushing aside the stupor in his eyes. He nodded as if too afraid to speak the Komizar’s name. “The ghouls down in the caverns took care of him with their own potions. He’s different now. He wants us all dead, and I’m the only one who didn’t do anything.”
“Except slash one of my men,” Rafe said. “What am I going to do about that?”
“It was only a scratch on his arm,” Eben chided. “Probably won’t even need a stitch. He shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”
Rafe looked across the room at the guard who had brought in Eben. The guard nodded confirmation, and Rafe turned back to Eben, this time with a sterner gaze. “And where do your loyalties lie now, Eben?” he asked.
“Not with your kind,” he answered, a snarl lifting his lip, but then his head bowed and he whispered, with all the misery and confusion the world could hold, “but not with the Komizar either.” He’d been cut loose from the only life he knew—for a second time. His focus shifted to the far wall and then his head fell back against his chair, his eyes closed and his mouth open, finally succumbing to his exhaustion. He started to fall to the side, but Rafe grabbed him, scooping his limp body into his arms.