This is not the time for the fight to end.
Now is when the fight will begin.
This is the time to regain what has been lost.
ALERA
Queen of a fallen kingdom, secretly in love with the enemy.
SHASELLE
Daughter of a murdered father, rebel with a cause.
One lives behind the former Hytanican palace walls and walks the razor’s edge to keep the fragile peace in her beloved homeland. The other slips through the war-torn streets, seeking retribution for her family’s tragedy, following whispers of insurgency.
Both face choices that will separate them from those they cannot help but love. As their stories intertwine, a conspiracy ignites that may end in slavery or death—or lead to freedom anew, if only each can face what must be sacrificed.
Awards for Cayla Kluver’s debut book, Legacy
• Bronze medalist in the 2008 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards for Young Adult Fiction
• Finalist in two categories in the National Best Books Awards 2008, sponsored by USA Book News
• First-place winner (Reviewer’s Choice) in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2008 for Young Adult Fiction
• Young Voices Foundation book of the month for January 2009
PRAISE FOR CAYLA KLUVER
“Allegiance is a beautiful continuance of the fantasy that began with Legacy.”
—San Francisco Book Review
“Anyone who says teens can’t write should meet 16-year-old Cayla Kluver.... Kluver’s writing is impressive, fluid and focuses heavily on social customs and deep, complex characters; the skill of the writing and the resulting story make Legacy one book that any fantasy fan should pick up at the earliest opportunity.”
—Cleveland Literature Examiner
“I recommend you get this book in your hands as soon as possible.”
—Teen Trend magazine on Legacy
“Alera’s sensitivity and willfulness will win readers over who will sympathize as her choices dwindle. A looming war, characters with intriguingly hidden pasts, and a sad ending set things up nicely for a sequel.”
—Booklist Online on Legacy
“A thoroughly entertaining read, Legacy shows a lot of promise, for Kluver and her princess.”
—Miami Herald
“With likeable characters and vivid details, this is an engrossing story for young adults.… Kluver’s grasp of language, dialogue and character development shows that she is as promising as her heroine.”
—Renaissance Magazine on Legacy
Books by Cayla Kluver
from Harlequin TEEN
The Legacy Trilogy
(in reading order)
Legacy
Allegiance
Sacrifice
Cayla Kluver
For Mom, as always: may you live long and prosper.
Every word on these pages is also dedicated to my walking inspirations: Robyn, Stacey, Stacey², Jo, Melissa, Carolyn, Renee and Tori. I’m so blessed to have you all in my life.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Acknowledgments
Questions for Discussion
PROLOGUE
THE CAPTAIN OF the Guard instinctively glanced behind, scanning the palace’s third-floor corridor for enemies who might be monitoring him. In truth, there was no reason for anyone to fear subversive activity from the Hytanicans, not this soon after the takeover. But the Cokyrians were long on suspicion and short on trust. Thus, Cannan took careful note of the Cokyrian soldier at the end of the hall, one of the many fouling his kingdom, before pushing open the sickroom door.
As expected, the room had only one occupant. Having stubbornly evaded death more times than could be counted, it was only fitting that London would be sitting up in bed, a mere day after he had roused, pulling on his leather jerkin. The deputy captain had been unconscious for two and a half weeks following the torture he’d endured at the hands of the Overlord; it had only been the High Priestess’s strange healing abilities that had kept him from death. Cannan’s stomach tightened at that notion—if it was the last thing he did, he would see them out of her debt.
London reached for his boots, wincing as he pulled one on, and the captain strode toward him, letting the door shut.
“Is that wise?” Cannan asked, concerned.
“I’m done being idle.” London pulled on his other boot and fastened the buckles, then his indigo eyes found his captain. “I assume you are, as well.”
Cannan nodded. Through the window on the far wall, he could see the remains of his homeland—buildings crumbled, the city wall in ruins, streets upturned, Cokyrian flags flying high to lay claim to its newest province. And that was just the outer layer. Beneath, there were families in shreds, bleeding where the deaths of loved ones had left wounds so deep they would eternally fester. Cannan, his son and the family his murdered brother had left behind were bleeding. Hytanica had nothing left to give and, therefore, nothing else to lose.
For months, their kingdom had been under siege, their people living in terror. They had been overrun by the Cokyrians; the Overlord, in his brutality and malevolence, had slaughtered their military leaders like cattle before meeting his own end. They had struggled against hopelessness, hiding in the mountains to help their people, and at present had come to this, living under the enemy’s rule. Here, now—this was not the time for the fight to end. Now was when the fight would begin. This was the time to regain what had been lost.
Bringing his attention back to the present, the captain said, “I have thoughts.”
Coming to his feet, London met his commanding officer’s dark gaze. “I have a plan.”
CHAPTER ONE:
FACE-TO-FACE
ALERA
I inhaled deeply, held my breath, then released it in a whoosh, repeating the process thrice over to quell my anxiety, with
a predictable lack of success. Looking to the door at my left, which led into the corridor, I imagined my guests entering and realized for the thousandth time the danger, stupidity and yet necessity of what I was doing. I was creating an explosive situation and, like lightning striking dry grass, I didn’t know if I would get sparks or a wildfire.
“The time?” I asked, throat dry.
“They aren’t late, if that’s what you mean.”
London was leaning against the wall behind me, having been reassigned as my personal bodyguard, a duty he took most seriously. Although I had been named Grand Provost of the Hytanican Province by the High Priestess, London did not trust that the Cokyrians would respect that decision, and felt I was in greater need of protection than ever before.
After much thought, I’d chosen what had been the King’s Drawing Room for this meeting, believing it to be the most neutral ground. Memories and pain lurked in almost every corner of the Palace of Hytanica—which had been redubbed the Bastion by the Cokyrians—but this room was nondescript and held no particular significance, unlike the Hall of Kings, where the thrones of our royalty had been removed along with the portraits of rulers past; unlike the strategy room where we had planned our last defenses; unlike the offices that had formerly been Steldor’s as King, Cannan’s as the Captain of the Guard and Galen’s as Sergeant at Arms.
This would be the first time since the occupation that the most influential men of my kingdom would come face-to-face with Narian, the Commander of the Cokyrian Forces. These were the men who had delivered me to safety during the attack and who had proved their valor again and again while we’d grappled for leverage from our hiding place in the caves of the Niñeyre Mountains. And Narian was the man I loved, who had operated under duress, for the Overlord had held my sister’s life in his hands; he had bargained with the warlord, done all he could to save our troops and our people, but still wounds were raw among my fellows. Cannan’s beloved brother Baelic had been tortured to death by the Overlord merely for his relation to the captain. London and Halias, deputy captains in the Elite Guard and bodyguards to my sister and me, had suffered “more than they would ever say,” by the warlord’s own claim; and Destari, another faithful deputy captain, had been slain before London’s eyes. I could not blame my friends for their bitterness, nor deny my own, though mine was not directed at Narian.
At long last, the door I had been watching opened and the Hytanican men entered: Cannan and Steldor, so alike with their formidable builds, dark eyes and nearly black hair, although Steldor’s features were otherwise those of his beautiful mother; Galen, slightly lighter in coloring than his best friend, his generally more forgiving nature eradicated by the war; and Halias, whose twinkling blue eyes seemed harder and whose sandy hair was cut short, physical signs of the loss of his easygoing manner.
All bowed before me, to my chagrin referring to me as Queen Alera, before sharing nods with London that bespoke of the respect the men held for each other.
“You should not call me Queen,” I reminded them, keeping my volume low, always conscious these days that someone might overhear. “I am Grand Provost now. I don’t think we should flout the High Priestess on such a minor matter as titles.”
“It is not a minor matter,” Cannan briskly contradicted me. “You are a member of the royal family with a right to the throne—our Queen. The High Priestess will have no choice but to tolerate our insolence, for we will address you in no other way.”
I bit my lip, exasperated but not knowing how to articulate it in light of their loyalty.
“Won’t you sit, then?” I managed to say, gesturing toward several armchairs.
“No. We wouldn’t want to offend our delegate.”
It was Steldor who had spoken, his infamous temper sizzling as he referenced Narian, though it was not the same anger that I had come to know during our tumultuous marriage, which had ended when he’d sought an annulment from the church out of respect for my wishes. No, this anger was deeply rooted, born out of pain, oppression and the knowledge that the man he held at least partly responsible for Hytanica’s destruction would join us at any moment.
Cannan glanced at his son, sympathy and an admonition in his gaze, then more civilly expressed the sentiment.
“We’ll stand, at least until Narian arrives.”
With no choice but to accept this decision, I continued to wait with them in awkward silence, my nervousness growing with each passing second, for I knew what Narian would say. I had called this meeting at his behest, both of us having recognized that the request needed to come from me if there were to be any chance of getting provincial rule off to a decent start.
It was not a sound but the stiffening of backs that told me Narian had arrived. I turned to face the door opposite the one the Hytanican men had used, the one that led into the Throne Room—or what had been the Throne Room—and saw him standing there. Like the others, he was several inches taller than me and well-muscled, though we all knew his power ranged beyond the physical. His deep blue eyes went briefly to me, then he appraised the former military men who, despite their stoicism, could not conceal their enmity, and quietly closed the door.
“Gentlemen,” Narian said, the word a touch too well pronounced. “Grand Provost Alera.”
The formality Narian maintained toward me in official capacities was essential. We had repaired our relationship, but the province was not ready to learn of it. And though the present company was knowledgeable of the affection between us, they were far from ready to accept it.
I nodded, although no one else issued a welcome. Narian, who was cool and controlled almost to a fault and had long ago given up hope of befriending these men, ignored their disrespect.
“I bring word from the High Priestess,” he informed them in his subtle accent, stepping farther into the room, London also joining the group. “I suggest you seat yourselves. She has much to say.”
When none of the men stirred, I moved to occupy an armchair, thinking they would follow my lead. They did not, and I wondered if they would have seated themselves if the suggestion had not come from Narian.
Ignoring their effrontery once more, Narian proceeded to untie a leather cylinder from his belt, removing a scroll from within it. My heart pounded as though it alone were driving blood through everyone’s veins. He unrolled the document and began to read.
“Upon this Twenty-second Day of May in the First Year of Cokyrian dominance over the Province of Hytanica, the following regulations are put into place, to be conveyed directly to Hytanica’s upper tier—” Narian nodded to the men assembled, whom the proclamation indicated “—and posted throughout the city and countryside so that no citizen may avoid accountability by a plea of ignorance. The violation of any rule herein established will be punished severely, with bodily harm, imprisonment or execution.
“Regulation One. The possession of weapons of war by any Hytanican man, woman or child, other than the Grand Provost’s bodyguard, is strictly prohibited. All such weapons must be surrendered immediately to Cokyrian forces. Permitted are farm implements, one ax per household for the chopping of wood, cutlery, tools for construction and daggers under six inches long by the blade.”
Cannan motioned to Steldor and Galen, both of whom met his gaze in a silent challenge before simultaneously reaching into their right boot shafts and withdrawing daggers that contravened this law. Each flipped his knife around to catch the blade before extending it to Narian, who confiscated the weapons with a cold stare they
gladly returned. After laying the daggers on the table beside the chair in which I sat, Narian again unfurled the parchment.
“Regulation Two. Cokyri will maintain complete control over access in and out of the city. Cokyrian soldiers will man the gate and may subject any passers to search and seizure with or without cause.
“Three. The borders of the Hytanican Province will be guarded by Cokyrian soldiers during and after the construction of the Province Wall. No citizen may cross the border without explicit permission from the Commander of the Cokyrian Forces within the province, such permission to be evidenced by the seal of the High Priestess.”
I looked at the ring on Narian’s right hand, knowing that London would also recognize it as the Overlord’s, for he had stolen it while a prisoner and had worn it for seventeen years. The twin to the ring resided on the hand of the High Priestess; thus Narian had the ability to provide her seal.
“Four. The Hytanican Province will maintain no military force of its own. The former military base will belong exclusively to Cokyrian soldiers, who alone will be the peacekeeping force within the city and throughout the countryside. The military school will continue in a strictly academic capacity, for the intellectual betterment of the province’s youth, both male and female.
“Five. Foreign trade will recommence following the completion of the Province Wall in order to accelerate the recovery of the province’s economy. However, all tradesmen will be searched and those carrying impermissible items will be turned away.
“Six. Hunting parties will register with the Cokyrian Weaponry Officer in order to receive permission and appropriate arms. At the conclusion of the hunt, all weapons shall be returned to Cokyrian control.”
My eyes roved over the men, knowing how offended they had to be by these constraints, but I could detect no reaction beyond the seething resentment of the younger pair. Cannan’s gaze did not falter, and his face remained impassive. Halias, relying on habit to rein in his sentiments, stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back, staring somewhere past his captain, Narian not even in his line of sight. But London’s aspect perplexed me, for he looked resigned, yet I had never known him to bow to authority.