by Eve Langlais
“Fine, the truth is they don’t know how.”
“Not an excuse.” Her tone held disapproval. “They should learn. Not just to fight but to properly defend themselves.”
“They would be appalled if you suggested it.”
“Do they want to die?”
The soldier rolled a shoulder. “The city has had very few attacks, all easily repelled.”
“Thus far. Are they not listening to the news from the outer towns and hamlets? The ones who haven’t succeeded so well?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“Not say, do. Someone needs to slap them out of their complacency. Ask them what their plan is if the monsters attack again.”
“They have a plan. Ask any of them and they will tell you the King and his soldiers will handle any threat.”
“That isn’t a plan.” A moue of displeasure tugged her lips.
“I agree. It’s partially why the King erected so many protections early on.”
“He should order them to arms.”
Xaav snorted. “It’s not that simple. He can’t force them to do something.”
“I don’t see why not. He has no issue getting people to hand over their children. Surely, he can convince them to learn how to fight.”
“But then who would make our bread and sew our clothes? Not to mention, someone needs to clean the lavatory.”
She gaped at him. “You speak as if those who live outside the Citadel are simply chattel.”
“More like pointing out they already have jobs that are also important.”
“They can also learn to fight and defend.”
“Doubtful. It takes certain skills to be a soldier.”
“Let me guess, it requires a penis,” she boldly stated.
“Never said that, but it does require a certain mindset. Or are you going to tell me all the Soraers that join your Order are willing to fight?”
“Many who think they can’t, learn.”
“And those who aren’t good at it die.”
Her lips pressed tight. “We recognize that not everyone has the same skill level. The weaker ones are only rarely called upon in extreme need.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t see the similarity to the King’s strategy.”
“You’ll agree to anything the King tells you,” was her sour reply.
“Yes, because he is my King. You serve the Goddess,” Xaav stated. “Are you going to tell me you don’t obey her edicts?”
“I see what you’re doing. However, you can’t equate a King’s orders with a Goddess’s.”
“Why not? In the eyes of their followers, they are divine.”
“The King is human and shouldn’t be blindly worshiped.” At least, Agathe assumed humanity. Why was he never seen without a helm?
“No, but he should be respected. Something you would do well to remember, as you are to be a guest in his home.”
The question she’d been mulling over since the invitation spilled from her lips. “Why did the King change his mind and choose to break his rule about those who can enter his Citadel?”
“I would imagine the attack had something to do with it.”
“That doesn’t make much sense. The King doesn’t know us. Why should he care if we are hurt or killed?” What she didn’t ask? Could Maric have intervened? A desperate—hopeful—line of thinking.
“The King cares about all his people. Why else do you think he emerged to defend them last night?”
The reminder didn’t sit well since heroic deeds went against her narrative of him. “Did he invite everyone displaced at the inn to stay in his Citadel?”
“You already know the answer, so why ask?” Xaav shot her a look. “I don’t understand your argument or suspicion. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
She pursed her lips. “Just wondering about his change of heart. Your leader was rather firm about the refusal.”
“Maric might have had a word or two with the King,” Xaav said with a cough.
She slewed him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?” And curse her heart for pumping more rapidly.
“I’ll leave it at…he got you an invitation.”
“Why?” She didn’t mean to ask and didn’t expect an answer.
“Maric is a complicated man, Soraer. Conflicted, especially when it comes to the heart versus duty. I’m sure you understand.”
She did, actually. Duty to the Goddess and the citizens of King’s Valley had to come first. To be true to that path, she’d be staying far away from the general—and his bed.
She was supposed to be a shield against the forces spilling from the Abyss. But more than ever, she wasn’t sure what that meant. How to accomplish it. Fighting alone wouldn’t defeat the mist.
Last night was proof they needed a better strategy. If the King’s City could be attacked, then maybe Maric was right and nothing could be done. The mist would eventually permeate everything, bringing with it monsters more numerous and bloodthirsty than ever. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. If only they had another way to fight.
The creatures that attacked the Shield Inn had fled when the King confronted them. But she doubted the platoon of archers was what’d frightened the monsters. She recalled the light illuminating the windows and the door of the inn. That light had nearly turned night into day. The brilliance of it chased the shadows and creatures of darkness away.
It had to be the King doing it. Using magic. Was it that of the Blessed? Or did he have his own?
She wished she could have seen him. Wondered at his invitation to come stay in his Citadel. Would a meeting occur once inside?
Would she finally see the face that’d caused her so much hurt?
“You’re looking way too serious,” Xaav muttered.
Her escort drew Agathe from her dark thoughts. She noticed they were in the ring closest to the Citadel. It lacked any sign of damage. As a matter of fact, she didn’t recall seeing anything past the street the inn resided on. “How many buildings were attacked last night?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“A few were damaged in the battle.”
“That’s not what I asked. How many were attacked?”
Xaav stared at the ground before sighing. “Just the Shield Inn.”
“Odd,” she remarked.
“Yes, odd,” he repeated, sounding relieved.
“A more paranoid person would wonder, though, if that attack was targeted.”
“They’re monsters. They don’t think in those terms.” A hasty defense.
“They can be directed. We’ve seen it before.”
“You think they came after you and the other Soraers,” Xaav stated.
“It might be just coincidence.” She didn’t mention how strange it was that the history book Venna studied had disappeared. Her Soraer had made a fuss about it when they packed to leave. She worried the King would blame her for the monsters taking it.
What would those senseless creatures want with a dusty old tome? Or were they bringing it to someone who could read it? A discomfiting thought.
“If they happened to be targeting you and your Soraers, then rest assured it won’t happen again. You’ll be safe in the Citadel.” Xaav sounded so confident.
As they emerged from the city’s last ring into the massive center, she couldn’t help but look up—way up—at the building she was about to enter. The Citadel appeared like a prison from the outside, and Agathe was about to willingly walk inside. Built of what appeared to be seamless gray rock, it stretched imposingly overhead, starting out fat at the bottom until it narrowed into a slender tower, the very top of it ringed in windows. Windows with bars. That was new since the last time she’d visited King’s City. Then again, so was the ditch outside the wall and the increased patrols.
Their steps led them to the edge of the moat. A waist-high fence kept the unwary from falling in. On the other side of the brackish fluid, a wall rose, too high and smooth to climb. A bridge, comprised of roped boards, w
ide enough to walk three abreast, led to the giant portcullis. Only one way in and one way out, unless a person could fly.
“You don’t think the bridge will be raised while we’re on it?” Venna asked with clear trepidation.
“Why would it lift? We’re here by invitation,” Hiix scoffed.
Venna squared her shoulders and stepped onto the bridge spanning the moat. She talked fast as she quick-marched. “How big do you think the library is?”
Xaav had a reply. “A dozen or more paces wide and a few more times that long. The shelves go floor to ceiling.”
“You’re talking hundreds of books.” Venna had the glee of a glutton anticipating a feast.
“You and your studies,” Hiix muttered. “Maybe we should be more worried about how we’ll get out. Swimming isn’t an option.” Hiix glanced down at the murky depths. They didn’t need to see the occasional ripple in the water to know it held a threat.
Agathe wished, not for the first time, that she’d convinced them to stay behind at the towns they’d passed through. But they wouldn’t leave her side. According to Hiix, “As if we’d abandon you now.”
How she loved them. But she did second-guess her decision to put herself in the King’s control. She’d hated him for so long. Would she be able to contain herself? Or would she fly into a rage the moment she saw him and do the unforgiveable?
Murdering the King would see Agathe and her Soraers killed. Was it worth the sacrifice?
It didn’t help that the King she kept hearing about wasn’t the one she expected. He appeared to have a noble side. He managed to cultivate the admiration and loyalty of men. He came to the rescue and didn’t stay for any thanks.
He also sent his soldiers to kidnap the Blessed, never mind their choice in the matter, and woe to those that fought against it. All so one man could use them. Take away their magic. Their lives.
What gave anyone, even a King, the right?
Chapter Forty
Agathe crossed the bridge and paused before the arch. The stone wall rose from the moat itself, no crevices or juts of stone for climbing. No windows; just slits for light and arrows. The archway spanned high enough that even a stool wouldn’t have let her stretch to touch it. From a crevice built into the thick stone gleamed the pointed spikes of the gate.
Did she really want to enter this fortress?
What other choice did she have? As she stepped inside the Citadel, a chill took her.
Hiix and Venna flanked her. The latter murmured, “Steady.”
“I’m fine.”
The cobblestones had been recently rinsed. The entire place was tidy except for the stacks of barrels below the walls. Probably for loading into the trebuchet planted to the side.
The courtyard held the stables to the left, several closed doors to the right, and straight ahead a set of steps leading to a massive portal, which remained closed. To the side, a smallish door opened and out spilled a woman dressed in a gown of gray that shimmered to silver when she moved. Her hair, a light yellow color, was pulled into a bun at her nape. Wrinkles crinkled the corners of her eyes as she smiled warmly.
“Welcome to the King’s Citadel, Soraers of the Shield.”
Good to see they were expected. Hiix, as Maeder, spoke for them. “We thank the King for his generosity.”
“As if he would do any less. In these trying times, he is doing his best to serve the entire Kingdom. Especially those affected by the incursions,” the woman said with a shake of her head.
“You mean the monsters?” Agathe couldn’t help the sharp query. Incursions made it sound like bugs in the pantry. The creatures boiling out of the Abyss should garner more respect than that.
The woman’s expression turned frosty. Her brown eyes were unblinking. Given only the Blessed ever entered the Citadel, Agathe would wager they had once been purple.
Hiix swept her hand. “I am Maeder Hiix. These are Soraers Agathe and Venna. You are?”
“Jannae.” No rank or title. “Allow me to show you to your quarters.” She turned and entered, leaving them no choice but to follow, which was when Agathe realized they’d lost Xaav. He’d disappeared.
Entering the Citadel proper meant more stone and little natural light. But the lamps lit all over the place meant she had no problem seeing. Agathe absorbed all the details she could, such as the fact that all the servants in the Citadel were muddy-brown-eyed and mostly women. Older women. Not a single child in sight.
As far as Agathe knew, the King didn’t have heirs. The King was simply the King. One man since the beginning. Or did he pass on the role like a Maeder did when she could no longer serve the Goddess?
“How many people work in the Citadel?” Agathe asked.
Jannae didn’t reply but kept pointing out rooms in their path. “Dining hall. Reception. That way to the kitchens.”
“Where are you taking us?” Because it appeared to be up a flight of stairs, two to be exact. Pity, she’d have liked to have gone lower to look for catacombs and secret rooms.
“The guest wing.” Then, as if she couldn’t actually contain herself, Jannae blurted out, “We’ve never had to use them before.”
Not surprising. Who was there to visit? The general knight had claimed that the other Kingdoms were lost. And the King didn’t usually invite outsiders.
“Have you worked here long?” Venna asked.
“Yes, and no.” A strange way of putting it that didn’t come with an explanation. “Your rooms.”
Like at the inn, they each received one. Private, with only a door and no outer window to speak of. A hint that they were prisoners or under protection because of what’d happened the night before with the flying creatures? Could have been a bit of both.
The rooms were much larger than what they had at the Abbae. Comfortable, too. Even Hiix appeared impressed.
“If you need anything, ring the bell and someone will do their best to help you.” Jannae pointed to a hanging rope.
Venna had the foresight to ask, “Where is the library?”
“An escort will arrive shortly to take you.”
Escort being a polite term for soldier, Agathe would wager. Before the servant could leave, she asked, “When will we see the King?”
The question earned her an incredulous look. “You won’t.”
“Surely, he’ll want to meet his guests,” Agathe insisted.
“No.” And that was the last word.
Jannae left.
Excellent because Agathe had a Citadel to explore.
Chapter Forty-One
Once Jannae left, the Soraers were free to talk.
“I can’t believe we’re inside the Citadel,” Hiix muttered, wandering the room with its massive bed covered in a soft, plush blanket. There were even pillows!
“Inside but not exactly free to roam around by the sounds of it,” Agathe complained.
“Give it time. We just got here. Do you really think the library is as big as they said?” Venna clasped her hands and rocked on her heels, humming with excitement.
“I don’t see why they’d lie. But don’t get your hopes up too high. Apparently, the King’s scholars have been looking and haven’t found anything.” Agathe didn’t want them to have false hope.
“Doesn’t mean we give up. Sometimes, all it takes is a different perspective.” Venna’s optimism was almost too much to take.
Hiix burst it. “Do you really think you, an outsider, will find a clue no one else has?”
“I will if the Goddess guides me.” Venna remained resolute in her belief. To her, the Goddess could do no wrong. As a woman who enjoyed the company of other women, she didn’t fare well outside the Abbae. Finding like-minded individuals was hard in a world where the sexes had predefined roles and women were too cowed to question them—and afraid to explore feelings that didn’t conform.
“What’s the plan?” Hiix asked Agathe.
She shrugged. “We look for something that can help us against the mist.”
; “What about your other plan?” Hiix hinted.
Venna pursed her lips. “She’s obviously not going to do anything rash. Agathe knows she needs to do some research and find out more about what’s going on.”
“Backing down now when I might never get a better chance?” Only while within the Citadel could she possibly get a chance to strike and succeed.
“Just saying you should keep an open mind. Find out more. Because once the King is gone, there’s no going back.”
Agathe wanted to say that nothing would change her mind, and yet, even she wasn’t that petty in her desire for revenge. “It’s not like they’ll let me near him anytime soon. While I wait for the right moment, I promise to find out more about what he’s been doing with the magic he’s been stealing.”
Because he’d almost definitely used some to save them in that attack. What else did he use it for? Because it obviously wasn’t to keep those within the Citadel young. The way she felt some mornings, she wished she still had access to it.
“Food!” Venna exclaimed, having discovered a tray with a dome that, when removed, showed plates with fresh fruit and baked goods. A carafe of fresh water tasted divine after a journey where they sucked stale fluid from leather canteens.
As if they were watched—and hopefully not listened to—the moment they finished their meal and ablutions, a knock came at the door.
An unknown soldier stood there in his silver armor. “I’m to take you to the library.”
That was the only thing he said no matter how many questions they tossed at him.
What’s your name? How long have you worked here? Why are there so many closed doors? Many with locks. It was as if the entire Citadel were partitioned, with each major entrance to an area guarded by at least one or more soldiers.
The library was several floors lower and a good, brisk walk from their rooms. The silver guards on duty didn’t turn their helmets as their guide opened the reinforced door.
Unlike some of the blander halls they’d traveled, the library had an antechamber with a dry fountain in the middle. Surrounding that space were several arches.