My father motioned to me with his hand, beaming broadly, and our guests repeated his petition, shifting their attention to me. As I curtseyed, I saw my father look to Steldor, who had conveniently located himself close to the platform upon which my parents stood. Baron Galen, Steldor’s counterpart, was with him and a few feet away stood the rest of Steldor’s entourage—two burly soldiers of aristocratic birth called Barid and Devant.
A little shorter and less handsome than Steldor, Galen had wavy ash-brown hair and warm brown eyes. His father had died in the war when Galen was three years old, and Cannan had been as much a father to him as he had been to Steldor. The young men had both become field commanders upon graduation from the Military Academy and were practically inseparable, though Galen was noticeably less cocky and more levelheaded than his friend. I sometimes wondered if it was solely Steldor’s influence that brought out the reckless side of Galen’s personality.
Barid and Devant had become Steldor’s tagalongs during military school. They seemed less intelligent than their leaders, though they had to add value to Steldor in some way or he would never have allowed them to remain among his comrades.
I had not had many encounters with Steldor and his associates as a group, but their rowdy reputation preceded them. They relished making life unpleasant for the people they considered beneath them (which, for Steldor, seemed to be just about everyone), though they primarily concentrated on terrorizing the young cadets at the Military Academy. They never did anything truly harmful, but I was certain the students were tired of having their horses untethered, their boots filled with mud or rocks and their water salted so it was undrinkable.
Steldor and company also had a reputation for making the rounds of all the taverns in Hytanica in a single night, growing a little louder with each drink and pulling some fairly outrageous stunts. It was both amusing and irritating to me that regardless of how quickly the rumors about Steldor’s behavior circulated, as long as he acted the perfect gentleman around my parents, they were content to judge his unseemly conduct as the antics of youth.
My father and mother stepped down from the stage and approached me, accompanied by Cannan, with the King’s personal guards falling in behind. The guests resumed their conversations, and Galen gave his best friend a good-natured shove in my direction, though I doubted Steldor, who was quite accustomed to conquering the ladies, needed any such encouragement.
“Alera,” my father said cheerily, arriving before me with my mother at his side, “how do you like the decor? Do you find it tasteful for this occasion?”
I scanned the torch-lit hall, noting the glorious flower arrangements set against its walls and the white chiffon and lace that draped the edges of the refreshment tables in the same way it draped my body.
“Yes, the decorations are splendid, Your Majesty.”
“Now, now,” my father chortled. “You know I don’t stand on ceremony.”
“But how can I help myself when you look so majestic?” I teased.
“You are just as deserving of that title as I am, my dear.” He reached out a hand to brush my cheek. “I would like to speak to you later this evening about the selection of your husband. I know you understand the importance of this decision, but all the same…” He trailed off as Steldor, with impeccable timing, came to stand beside me.
“Your Majesty, My Queen,” Steldor said with a bow before turning to face me. “Princess Alera.”
He kissed my hand, a self-assured grin touching his lips, and my father, looking immensely happy, gave me a wink.
“Lord Steldor.” I acknowledged him coolly, and I had the feeling my father would have taken back his approving wink if such a thing were possible.
Steldor crossed his arms, a trace of a pout tainting his features, and I stole a glance at the Captain of the Guard, who stood as impassively as always. His job was to protect the royal family, not to become emotionally involved in its dealings, but I thought I could detect the faintest urge within him to roll his eyes at his son’s behavior.
Conversation resumed, with surprisingly little input from Steldor, for he was watching me intently. Displeasure at his manner flared within me, for I had the feeling he was plotting his next move. I shifted farther away from him as Miranna, clasping the hand of her good friend, Semari, floated into our midst.
Semari’s parents, Baron Koranis and Baroness Alantonya, were among those who had suffered the loss of a child toward the end of the Cokyrian War. Their lives had always been clouded by tragedy and mystery, for their firstborn had been taken in the night from his cradle a week after his birth, and his body was the sole one that had not been returned by the Cokyrians. The family had moved on as best they could, and two years later, Semari had been born, followed over the next five years by two more daughters and another all-important son, for only a male could inherit titles and property.
Now that my effervescent sister and her friend were capturing everyone’s interest, I seized the opportunity to exit the ballroom. With a nod to the Palace Guards in the corridor, I stepped onto the landing of the open double staircase and peered over the railing to the floor twenty-five feet below. Seeing no signs of movement other than that of the guards stationed by the front doors, I descended the set of stairs to my left and stepped into the Grand Entry Hall, from which one could pass under the Grand Staircase and into the Throne Room, or proceed into either the West Wing or East Wing of the palace.
I headed into the West Wing, which contained, among other things, the King’s Drawing Room, the small dining room that had been the scene of my date with Steldor, the large Meeting Hall and the service areas of the palace. As I strolled, I listened to the scuffing of my leather-soled slippers against the stone beneath my feet. These floors had not been kind to me in my youth. Running up and down the halls barefooted had made my feet sore, and tripping had resulted in more than a few skinned knees and bloodied noses. My parents had at times been unable to tend to me when I was hurt, for my sister had been very sick when she was a child and had needed special care. They had also, of course, been trying to put the kingdom back together in the aftermath of the war. For these reasons, my personal bodyguard had stepped into the parental role during my early years.
I glanced around, but London was nowhere to be seen. A smile crept across my face at the thought that he might not have seen me leave the ballroom. He had not been at my side but had been moving among the crowd, alert for signs of trouble.
Reveling in my unexpected freedom, I turned to walk past the Meeting Hall and toward the rear of the palace, intent on seeking sanctuary in the garden. When I reached the back entry, the guards drew open the heavy oak doors and I stepped outside. In accordance with procedure, one of the guards announced my presence to his peers who patrolled the area’s perimeter.
My father had often warned Miranna and me not to enter these grounds without a bodyguard. He feared the garden was an ideal target for enemy infiltration, as access to the palace estate could be gained by scaling only one barrier, the garden wall that was also the northernmost wall of the city. This concern was counterbalanced in part by the wildness of the forested and mountainous terrain that lay to the north of the city, and in part by the fact that this portion of the city’s barrier rose ten feet higher than the rest. In any event, I had never believed there could be danger amidst such beauty.
It was now fully dark, and only the moon and the torches anchored to the stone walls of the garden provided light. I took a deep breath of the scented air and walked forward into the shadow land, glad for the opportunity to savor the quietude of the evening alone.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you leave the ballroom.”
I jumped and spun around to find London leaning against the palace doors with one eyebrow cocked. He was dressed, as always, in a brown leather jerkin layered over a long-sleeved white shirt. Leather bracers covered his wrists and forearms, and twin long knives hung from his belt. He wore tall leather boots folded down below the knee, and I cou
ld see the handle of a dagger extending from one of them. An unusual silver ring shone on the first finger of his right hand.
“I was—I was just going for a walk,” I stammered. “I didn’t want to bother you with something as trivial as that.”
London smiled in genuine amusement. “Nice try. It’s my job to protect you and make sure you don’t go off and do something foolish—like this. I’d like to see you try that excuse on your father.”
“You’re not going to tell him, are you, London?”
I felt a rush of panic, for years of war had left my father extremely paranoid, which was the reason Miranna and I were almost constantly accompanied by our bodyguards. I knew only too well how displeased he would be if he learned that I’d deliberately slipped away from the man charged with my protection, for I had been bruised by his anger in the past.
“No, I won’t tell him.” London laughed. “I only made the comment because I knew you’d lose your nerve if I did.”
I fixed him with my most withering glare and turned to stalk down one of the pathways.
“I suppose you’ll have to come with me then,” I tossed over my shoulder. “Just drop back to the extent you’re permitted and don’t say a word.”
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
“I mean it, London.”
“Of course. I can appreciate your desire for some peace.”
I walked along the path, soothed by the rustle of the plants and the trees in the soft breeze. Crickets chirped around me, and I found myself enjoying the sounds of the night as much as I did the garden’s fragrance. True to his word, London was silent, to the point where I wondered if he was even behind me.
I turned a corner and gasped, barely stifling a scream. Eyes—luminescent green eyes—stared at me from the darkness. I struggled to focus, fear coursing through my veins, not wanting to believe what I was seeing. A figure stepped toward me, and the sinister outline of a man clad in black took form, a glint of moonlight off metal telling me he held a sword in his right hand.
“Princess,” he said slyly, the pitch of his voice unexpectedly high.
I backed away, but before I could turn to run, London seemed to fall from the sky and land between the intruder and me, twin double-edged blades drawn and ready. He and the young man engaged in combat while I stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the clashing of the blades and the concomitant explosion of sparks. When the trespasser’s weapon soared through the air to land a few feet away, my trance broke, but it was no longer necessary for me to flee. Dropping his left blade, London twisted one of the intruder’s arms behind his back, pressing his other knife against the man’s throat. “Tell me, Cokyrian,” London spat, as if the name were a bad taste in his mouth. “How many of you are there?”
The Cokyrian made no reply, and I took a small step closer, wanting to get a better look at the assailant, even though my body still tingled with fright. I squinted through the darkness and my mouth fell open in surprise. “You’re…a woman?”
The intruder made no response except to snort at my stupidity for thinking she could be anything but a woman.
“Stay back, Alera!” London barked, and I halted, unaware that I had been about to put myself in danger. “Call for the guard!”
I hesitated, for the only guard I’d ever had to call was the one in front of me, but London sharply reminded me of the urgency of the situation. “Now!”
“Guard!” I shouted, hurrying toward the palace, repeating the call several times.
By the time I reached the pathway that formed the perimeter of the garden, three of the men on patrol duty were rushing my way.
“London needs assistance,” I sputtered, pointing down the path from which I had come. “There is an intruder!”
I followed the men as they hastened to my bodyguard’s aid.
“Take her to the dungeon,” London commanded when the guards reached him, releasing the Cokyrian into their custody. “I will alert the captain and the King.”
London grabbed my wrist and hurried me back inside, and I stumbled along behind him up the spiral stairway to the second floor.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded when we emerged into the corridor, trying to plant my feet to prevent him from dragging me farther.
“To the King. I must tell him what has happened.”
“And what exactly did happen?” I asked, hoping I did not sound idiotic.
London swiveled around to face me so suddenly that I almost crashed into him.
“Do you not know who intruded upon your precious garden?”
“N-n-no, I—”
“Well, perhaps you have heard of her people—the Cokyrians.”
“I have, but what does this mean?”
London did not answer but merely tightened his hold on my wrist and continued down the corridor. I did not fight him but insisted once more that he explain.
“Tell me, London!”
“This may be a shock, but it is imperative that you refrain from asking inane questions. I need to think!”
I hated the tears that welled due to London’s abruptness. He had never before snubbed me in such a manner, and I felt as if I had been slapped. Wiping the excess moisture from my eyes, I sped up so as not to hinder him any more than I could help. He stopped outside the door to the ballroom and faced me.
“I’m not going to haul you in there. It’s better if we don’t make a scene. Just follow me and go straight to the King.”
His manner invited no response, so I simply nodded, trailing him through the crowd of revelers. He advanced on my father, who stood beside my mother in a group that included Baron Koranis and Baroness Alantonya, along with Cannan and his wife, Baroness Faramay. Without waiting for anyone to acknowledge him, he addressed the King directly, ignoring Cannan, his commanding officer, to whom he should have been reporting.
“Your Highness, there’s been a disturbance. I would advise that your guards escort you and your family to your quarters at once.”
My father smiled at London. “This is a little unorthodox, don’t you think?” he asked with an unconcerned chuckle.
“Your Majesty, I believe you to be a man of some intelligence, therefore, I expect you are wise enough to follow my suggestion. Please, Sire, do as I say.”
Turning to the captain, London brashly issued an order. “Come with me. We must secure the palace.”
Cannan’s brows drew together at London’s blatant, though not uncharacteristic, disregard for chain of command, but given the urgency in the Elite Guard’s voice, he said nothing. Instead, he glanced around for Kade, the sergeant at arms in charge of the Palace Guard, who was already moving our way. Upon his arrival, Cannan gave the sergeant his orders and then set off with his deputy captain. Fear swelled within me as I watched their retreating backs, for this night, my home was not safe.
CHAPTER 3
ENEMIES REVEALED
I ONCE AGAIN PACED IN MY PARLOR, TOO intrigued and perplexed to sit down or rest. I had been escorted to my quarters for safety, with one guard stationed inside the room with me and two more in the corridor. The guard who had temporarily taken over for London stood in front of the windows, trying not to look uncomfortable in my quarters. He wore the uniform of the Palace Guard, and the sword that had been issued to him upon completion of the training regimen hung from his belt. He was no more than a few years older than Steldor, and clearly had not expected to end up protecting the Crown Princess of Hytanica.
“Do you know what is going on?” I boldly inquired, breaking the nerve-racking silence.
“I’m afraid you have a better idea of what this is about than I do, Your Highness.” He shrugged, but I could see curiosity in his eyes. “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess Alera… What exactly did happen in the garden?”
I stopped pacing and relayed the entire story to him, including London’s identification of the intruder.
“Cokyrian?” he repeated.
“That’s what London said.”
> “What are they doing here?”
“Well, actually, there was only one of them.”
“There’s never just one of them, Princess.”
“But what does this mean?” I grumbled, feeling as though we were playing a game.
A dramatic pause followed, and I would have laughed at his histrionics if not for his next words.
“It means the war could begin again.”
His statement hit me with sufficient force to expel the air from my lungs, and I finally understood London’s reaction. I knew enough of the tragedy and the horrors of the war that I had no desire to experience such things firsthand, and most definitely not during the reign of my future husband.
“We haven’t seen or heard from the Cokyrians in sixteen years,” he continued. “The fighting stopped with no victory for either side and no treaty signed, which means the war could resume just as suddenly as it ended.”
I nodded, then resumed my pacing, clenching my fists to the point where my fingernails pressed into my palms. I drew up short at a rap on the door, but it was only a servant to start a fire in the hearth, for a chill was now descending upon the room. Eventually, I took a seat in a gold velvet armchair and flipped through a book in a vain attempt to distract my mind from the slowness of the passing hours.
When my tolerance for waiting had been all but exhausted, there was another knock on my door, and London entered, dismissing the young man who had been standing in for him. The guard bowed to me and departed, as London appeared to be in a foul mood.
“Who is she?” I clamored, springing to my feet, the book sliding off my lap onto the floor.