Carrion Crow

by Talis Jones

  “I’ve finished,” she replied, her tone clipped.

  “Then please stay and sit with me,” he pressed. “Please, I need someone to talk to in this suffocating place.”

  Yanking her arm out of his grip she turned away. Sitting with her back against the wall she fixed him with a stern look that warned him not to touch her again. With a sigh Addar joined her sitting with enough space to avoid the prickly energy radiating from her. “Are you alright, Adrianna?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she snapped.

  Addar smiled sadly. “No, I don’t think you are. If you were then you would not be the girl I met all those months ago and you would not be my only friend left within these castle walls.” Adrianna said nothing. “I’m leaving Sarai.”

  “How?” she asked surprised.

  He gave a short laugh. “Interesting that you ask me ‘how’ and not ‘why.’”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “No, you’re certainly not,” he agreed. A frown tugged at his mouth. “I don’t know how and I don’t know when. I do know that she is not the woman I met nor the woman I believed I could tie my life and my kingdom with. She’s grown cold, have you noticed? Of course you’ve noticed. At times she’s just as I remembered her but more and more frequently she slips into this other self, this colder, harsher, blinder self. She’s always been driven but I feel as if every conversation I have with her regarding restoration plans, politics, council initiatives, she always speaks with a shadow behind her words. She does not hide from me and yet I cannot shake the feeling that she is speaking of something else entirely.”

  “She is not being honest with you, Addar,” whispered Adrianna. “I know who she is and she is not whom she claims to be.”

  “And yet you stay?” he asked curiously.

  “And yet I stay,” she nodded.

  They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. “I cannot stay,” declared Addar finally. “I will find a way out and I will take you with me.” His eyes held hers with a burning promise.

  Adrianna stared back with defiance. “You will take me nowhere. By all means, leave this place. I advise you to leave as soon as possible for Llyr’s sake. But I will stay.”

  “Why?” he demanded infuriated, confounded by her stubbornness. “Why do you choose to stay with a Crown who does not love you?”

  “I choose to stay because by doing so I help my people.”

  “They are not your people. You are not from here,” he scoffed.

  “Perhaps not, but Oneiroi has become my home and therefore those who live here have become my people. I cannot help them beyond these walls and so, yes, I choose to stay.”

  Addar shook his head in disbelief. “And Jack agreed to this? Abandoned you to the mercy of the Crown? Let you turn spy and follow your foolish plans?” A flash of movement and a sharp prick caught his breath. He glanced down to see one of Adrianna’s daggers held steadily at his throat.

  “Jack left for me,” she hissed. “His life was in danger and he knew I might never forgive him if he forced me to run with him. I told you, beyond these walls I have no power and I will not be made useless.” Moving her blade back to her sheath slowly she continued, “Now we may both be enemies of the Crown but try to command me and I will cease to be your friend.” Launching to her feet in graceful silence she strode out of the room leaving the swirling hush to weigh upon the prince as he faced his future.

  He could not leave Sarai, but he had to. He could not leave Mordréda, but he must. It seemed like ages ago when he first set eyes upon Sarai Morrigan. He believed her to be good for the Llyrian people and he would have followed her anywhere for that hope. For Llyr. That was the bottom line. He needed to do what would help his people. Slowly he stood and extinguished the torches one by one searching for a plan.

  * * *

  “Mi suverenya,” greeted Sam respectfully.

  Sarai glanced from the window giving him the briefest of looks. “Close the door, Sam.” He obeyed silently and at last she turned to lean her body beside the gilded window frame causing her robe to slip just the barest amount allowing it to straddle the teasing line between modest and promise. “There’s a leak in my ranks, Sam. One of your soldiers has been playing against us.”

  “Impossible, mi suverenya. I—” began Sam confidently but the Crown held up her hand stopping his bubbling fountain of assurance.

  “We send out soldiers for supply runs and they are robbed. We dispatch propaganda teams and they are subdued. Every time I order my warriors to venture beyond Quidel they are slaughtered, raided, or strung up and humiliated. The Crown is the ruler of this land. The Crown is to be protected by their military and upheld by their people.” Sarai walked slowly before Sam in what could only be described as predatory grace. “Less than half of your parties return unscathed.”

  Sam stood unflinching despite the ice crystallizing in her emerald eyes. “At first, I confess, the bandits and rebels caught us by surprise but the more they show themselves the deeper an understanding we gather. I assure you every loss is also a win as they reveal unavoidable glimpses into their tactics and motives.”

  “Your assurances gather in my quiver as I shoot them into your heart. I warn you, another empty promise from you and the next arrow I release will be a very real one.”

  A leaden pause filled the room. “What do you wish for me to do, mi suverenya?” he inquired cautiously.

  Sarai dragged her finger lazily along Sam’s arm, its sharpened nail leaving a mark in its wake. “Eisen’s little friends have done nothing but nettle my nerves. I want them stopped. I want you, Sam Melanthios, to find this traitor amongst our ranks. Do not assure me that there is none. Their attacks are too perfectly timed. They know when, where, and why. Someone is smuggling that information and I want to know who.”

  Sarai took a step closer until her mouth lingered by Sam’s reddening ear and whispered, “Find me a rat, Sam, or I’ll drag you down to the dungeon playroom and make you squeal confessions for crimes you can’t even dream of.” With a sharp down stroke of her finger the nail sliced a thin cut in his arm. The wound was hardly noticeable, but deep enough to sting and draw blood. The Crown stepped back fixing him with a regal gaze full of immovable promise.

  “Mi suverenya,” bowed Sam, trying surreptitiously to quiet his pounding pulse that raced in both fear and want.

  Sarai watched him closely as he left her room. Raising her hand up she gazed disinterestedly at the drop of Sam’s blood still clinging to the finger’s tip. Rubbing her fingers slowly the blood massaged itself into her skin but her eyes watched sightlessly, clouded with thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Heavy boot steps pounded the dirt as a squadron of recruits marched across the grounds practicing formation drills. Sam strode along the fringes of the military quadrant making a path straight for the sparring corral. The Crown had given him strict orders to uncover a rat amongst them and his search began with the new batches of soldiers drummed inside the Mordrédan gates. He was hard pressed to believe those who fought by his side to win Sarai the Crown would turn against them, but the cattle calls might have brought in any number of loyal-faced traitors and he would cull the crowd until he discovered who poisoned the Crown’s plans.

  Cheers punctured his thoughts and he pushed his way through the ring of soldiers. In the middle of the corral stood a young man with dirty strawberry blond hair disheveled from the fight and his pale freckled skin shone slick with sweat, but his sapphire eyes glowed with a fervor that only victory could deliver. Sam recognized the boy, Seamus, a recent recruit he had yet to question. If truth be told he had somewhat avoided it. Hailing from Aztlan he towered over his younger comrades with his intimidating farm-built form and more than that he was proving to be an excellent soldier. If Sam was wrong about the boy’s loyalty to the Crown then he would be a very disappointing loss.

  As the victor helped his opponent up from the ground he caught Sam’s eye and paused. Sam moti
oned his hand inviting him to take on another challenger. The battle corral was Sam’s favorite exercise to watch and to play himself. Today they fought with no weapons, only their bodies. A tan wiry figure jumped the wooden fence taking up the role of challenger. Sam snorted but the sound went unheard over the roar of soldiers as they cheered and banged their swords in an excited rhythm.

  The challenger and the victor circled each other slowly, each sizing the other up as they searched for weaknesses. Normally it would be a close match. Vikram had served for almost a year and was quick as a whip, but despite this Sam knew his soldiers enough to know it would do him no good. Seamus fought almost as if he could predict his opponent’s moves before they knew them themselves. Vikram would go down easily.

  Vikram made the first move lashing out with a quick jab then dropped and rolled to come up behind his opponent while sweeping the legs out from under him at the same time. The boy should have gone down. The challenger moved with precision and impressive swiftness, but instead the victor blocked the jab and jumped the sweep by diving into a roll of his own. And so they stood face to face once again.

  The dance crackled like they fought with bare feet upon hot coals but neither faltered. Vikram managed to get in a few hits but Sam had played this game since before they were born and his quick eyes saw how as Vikram moved to make those strikes his opponent’s muscles tensed then dropped so quickly you’d miss it if you were not watching so closely. Sam knew Vikram only scored the hits that his opponent allowed him to. He’d be pinned in 3…2…1…

  “Figo!” cursed the fallen challenger. Ignoring the offered hand he hauled himself to his feet and slunk through the crowd in angry defeat. Soldiers whistled or jeered as they divvied up their bets.

  “Seamus!” Sam called and the boy turned to face him dropping his grin for a look of solemn respect.

  “Yes sir,” he answered as he stood before the general.

  “I need a word with you,” Sam ordered. Quickly Seamus hopped the fence and followed his superior away from the corral and to his office. “Take a seat.” Seamus did so and Sam took the seat behind his modest desk. “I’ve been meeting with all the newer recruits and making a few inquiries. Simply a status report.”

  “I’ve heard, sir,” nodded Seamus warily.

  “Indeed.” Sam pressed his lips together as he assessed his soldier. “What’s your name, soldier?”

  “Seamus, sir” he replied promptly.

  “Yes, I know that. Your full name,” Sam clarified.

  “Just Seamus, sir.”

  Sam eyed him annoyed. “You’ve no last name, soldier?”

  “Not anymore,” Seamus confessed. “My family did not approve of my decision to serve the Crown.”

  “I see.” Was this news a sign of loyalty or rebellion? “Why did you choose to join the Crown’s army?”

  “I wanted to help Oneiroi and its people. Joining the Crown’s army seemed exactly the way to do that. I’ve had to watch as this world suffered over the years and I will not stand idly by. A crow flew over me one early morning and I recognized the sign of change. Change is coming and I’m honor bound to help lead it.”

  Passion and hope burned in the boy’s eyes. Most of the other soldiers he’d questioned had confessed they sought money, occupation, guaranteed food, or some such. But this boy fought like each opponent posed an interesting puzzle, a mystery that could not be left unsolved. Seamus spoke with purpose, his words instilling proud admiration within Sam himself. This was not a typical soldier. This one served a higher calling. Almost reluctantly he continued his questioning.

  “Would you ever betray the Crown? Either committing the act yourself or by covering the treason of a comrade?” Sam leaned further over his desk watching the boy’s face carefully.

  “I would never betray the Crown to whom I am loyal, sir,” promised Seamus. His voice remained steady and his face never wavered.

  Sam nodded before inquiring cleverly, “To which Crown are you loyal, soldier?”

  “There is only one Crown in Oneiroi, sir. Lady Sarai Morrigan is the Crown of Oneiroi.” Seamus’ face dipped slightly in respect for the Crown but his eyes pinched slightly in confusion. “I’m sorry, sir. Do you question my loyalty to the cause?”

  “No, of course not.” Smoothly Sam pushed back his chair and stood. “Just a routine check,” he assured him. “You may go.”

  Seamus stood at the dismissal and shut the door behind him. Spinning a training blade in his hand, as was his nervous habit, he meandered back toward the battle corral. Remaining in the shadows he looked on lost in thought. He’d known Sam Melanthios had been rooting around the recruits for weaknesses and traitors so it had been of little surprise when his name had been called. It didn’t worry him. Sam would find nothing unless there was something to find. Of course, there was something to find, but he knew the likes of Sam would never catch him. He had been trained far better than that.

  He hadn’t even needed to lie to the General, but he doubted that Sam could or even would see through his meaning. He indeed had a purpose to serve in this castle but it did not lie within the barracks or battlefields. His purpose here was currently pacing back and forth in her bedroom. Seamus smiled as he leaned back against a post and watched Adrianna through her bay window. His Whisper sight allowed him to see the extra distance and he laughed quietly to himself as the girl seemed to be putting on quite the dramatic display of cooped up annoyance.

  She had to know that Jack would never truly leave her in this place alone. He knew she ventured into the old training rooms late at night and she fought well. If what he’d heard of her was true then she’d undoubtedly protest being given a babysitter. Regardless, a second pair of watchful eyes would not hurt. He’d watch silently but would not move unless protection and escape were absolutely necessary. In short, he was merely Plan B.

  He still couldn't decide whether her choice to remain by Cassandra’s side and ferret out information was brave or stupid…or perhaps a bit of both. He laughed to himself and shook his head.

  Pushing off from the post he went to join the other soldiers at the corral. Fighting them kept his cheating gift of foresight nice and sharp. Ah, and the current victor in the ring was Michael who’d stolen his cake from dinner last night, the bastard. Yes, a fight with Michael seemed quite in order…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Servants scurried throughout the castle carrying trunks and trays laden with everything from cutlery to carrots. All week they had prepared for Addar’s birthday and Sarai spared no expense as she put together the most extravagant party of the year. He had been playing his part flawlessly yet Sarai still sensed something a touch fickle in him. If he was losing interest she’d have to remedy that and this party would be just the thing.

  All the floors had been scrubbed, fresh flowers plucked, sconces polished, and heaps of food swathed the halls with a heavenly aroma. The castle staff spun about in a tizzy attempting to fulfill many orders at once, their heads snapping this way and that as guests swarmed inside.

  Adrianna hid in her room watching the carriages arrive from her window. Most hailed from Quidel, a few from Aztlan, but a staggering number poured in all the way from Llyr. While the Quidelish rode in those eerie horseless carriages, the Aztlaneans’ transportation came in a much more humble wooden fashion. The Llyrians however rode into Mordréda with their heads held high, their backs impeccably straight, and with faces of unreadable steel. A warrior state, Adrianna recalled. You’d never know they were traveling to attend a mere birthday party.

  Despite their mysterious interiors their exterior overflowed with decadence. Gold jewelry glinted from men and women alike and in all forms. Arm cuffs, earrings, nose rings, anklets, bracelets, circlets upon the head, even their clothes boasted with gold stitching. They all wore robes of the richest colors and their horses trotted just as finely dressed. If they were a war party you’d believe they’d already won and taken all the spoils.

  Adrianna pressed her f
orehead against the cool glass as she watched a band of entertainers unload their supplies in the courtyard below. Vaguely she wondered how Llyr had managed to keep such riches. The Crowns of the past had been cruel and crippling with their harsh taxes, yet every Llyrian that passed through these doors seemed fit to be a high ruler. Sarai had no doubt sent innumerable gifts from the castle’s treasure stores in exchange for Addar’s betrothal but Adrianna recalled her one and only visit in Llyr.

  Even then, before Sarai took the throne, Llyr had dazzled her. True it stood simple and built of earth, but the craftsmanship in the architecture, the paintings, the clothing, it had all announced proudly of a wealthy patronage. Perhaps it had simply remained from a time long ago. Or maybe it was a mark of the Llyrians themselves. No matter how empty their coffers, they would not be cowed into squalor.

  The party tomorrow evening would be grand indeed. Dutifully she had sat beside Sarai for every meeting, chore, or whim. It was utterly exhausting. Despite her warmer countenance around Adrianna, Sarai still kept her cards held close. Trying to pry information from the Crown was like trying to put boots on a snake. Most days her hunt was relegated to silly girl talk where she’d praise Sarai’s beauty or ideas and reassure her what a perfect match Addar and she made. Yes, hideously exhausting. Honestly Adrianna just wanted to smash the Crown open like a coconut and scoop out every secret inside at once.

  A knock at the door roused her and with a sigh Adrianna moved to open it. Standing before her was –

  “Adrianna!” chirped Sarai flowing right past the girl followed by a small parade of servants. “Meet your crew.”

  “My what?” she asked a little terrified.

  “These people are here to make sure you look absolutely perfect for the party tonight. They are celebrated for their crafts so you will do as they say.” Sarai arched an eyebrow awaiting any cry of protest but Adrianna held her tongue. “Now as for your escort—”