Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  And then Camalyn must have released her magic, because her influence ended all at once. Tavi could feel the difference in the air, and the crowd, who’d been a unified, peaceful body a moment before, descended into chaos. Most of them were confused, turning to each other, shouting questions, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  Some spectators ran toward the platform, crying out in celebration. They wanted to meet the man who would rule them. These people had probably always loved the old stories of kings and queens. Now they had their own royalty to fawn over.

  Others ran toward the platform for a different purpose. Released from Camalyn’s persuasive magic, they raised voices and fists in anger. As they grew closer, many of them pointed toward the dead woman on the stage, their cries becoming even angrier. Others ignored the body, marching toward their new king.

  The people were getting dangerously close to Aldin, and Konner pulled him back, sending him into the lobby of the building. Meanwhile, all the safety officers moved into a line along the front of the platform. As individuals approached, either to celebrate or resist, the officers pushed them away.

  Then, in near unison, two officers shot their hand cannons into the air, assisted by match-wielding officers next to them. In the crowd, several people screamed at the noise. Nearly all the people approaching the platform backed away; the few that didn’t were pushed hard by the officers.

  Tavi looked around at the multitude of reactions on the faces of the strangers near her: excitement, anger, confusion. What they all had in common was fear. Even as the crowd dispersed, many of them looked back every few seconds, their panicked eyes watching the platform. Tavi didn’t know if they were looking at the men with hand cannons or at the dead woman laying behind the officers. Either way, she knew what they were thinking. They were wondering if they’d be next.

  Then Tavi realized Konner was still standing at the back of the platform, watching the throngs of people. Even from far away, his expression was clear. It was pure triumph.

  “We lost,” Tavi whispered to no one in particular. She silently wept.

  Chapter Fifty

  Teach your students truths that are more important than magic. Teach them of the peace found in nature. The wisdom found in prayer. The healing found in friendship.

  -From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana

  Tavi lay on the grass in the back yard of the midwife house. The spring sun warmed her skin and penetrated her closed eyelids.

  King Relin. The name lingered in her mind and made her stomach feel like it was twisted into a pretzel. Konner had named Aldin king just a few hours ago, and Tavi desperately wanted to convince herself it hadn’t happened.

  How could the Golds have lost? Tavi had sacrificed her home, her freedom, her trust. Her sister. Her whole body ached from Misty’s absence, and she didn’t hold back the tears.

  The air was warm, but the slight dampness of the grass finally soaked through her dress, and she shivered. Keeping her eyes closed, she spread both arms out, and with her right hand, she gripped the grass, wishing it was her sister’s hand. She embraced that desire and invited her magic in. It filled her, warming her and acting as a salve to her pained heart.

  “Glow bug.”

  Tavi squinted her eyes open and gave Tullen a small smile. “Have a seat. Or lie down, if you’d like. But the grass is a little wet.”

  She let go of both her magic and the grass, pulling her hands closer to her sides as Tullen lay down next to her. She watched as he gazed at the sky, then turned his head toward her.

  When he saw her face, a look of concern replaced his smile. He rotated to face her, propping himself on an elbow. Then he pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “I didn’t see that when I was standing up. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He nodded and didn’t press her to say more.

  Tavi closed her eyes, and she heard Tullen lying on his back again. A few minutes later, she asked, “Where are Ash and Wrey?”

  “A bed was brought into your room for Wrey.”

  Tavi sighed. Jenevy was convinced that Wrey, like Reba, had quickly regretted getting caught up in the Grays’ schemes. That was probably true. But she was also the woman who’d used her sight gift to make Misty sleep. Could Tavi live in the same room as her?

  “Ash is in our room,” Tullen said. “The window is shuttered and locked from the outside, and there are bells on the shutters and the door in case he tries to get out.”

  Tavi lifted her head. Ash had hung bells on the door of the farmhouse room where he’d kept Narre and, for a short time, Tavi. “Is that a joke?”

  Tullen laughed quietly. “No. I don’t know what we’ll do in the long term, but for now, we thought we shouldn’t waste a good idea.”

  Tavi felt herself smile. But she soon sobered and asked, “Do you really think Benisa will keep us safe?”

  “I do. The letter Pala left was very helpful.”

  Upon their return to the midwife house, Jenevy had surprised them by retrieving a letter Pala had given her. “Just in case anything happens to me,” Pala had told Jenevy, and Tavi had marveled at the midwife’s prescience.

  The letter was addressed to Benisa Kariana, the head midwife of the house. Benisa knew about the Grays, and in the letter, Pala begged her to continue to support the effort to stop them. Benisa was devastated about Pala’s death, and she’d tearfully agreed to help the Golds in any way she could.

  After a few more minutes of silence, Tavi spoke. “I don’t know what comes next, Tullen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tavi heard Tullen shifting, and she turned her head and opened her eyes. He was sitting up, and she pushed herself into the same position, facing him. “This has gotten so much bigger than I thought it would. I have no idea what we can do to stop them.”

  “I don’t know, either. But we’ll try,” Tullen said. When Tavi didn’t respond, he gave her a small smile. “Right?”

  Tavi wasn’t sure he was still talking about the fight with the Grays. But she didn’t dare ask. “The Grays have to be stopped,” she said. “But I can’t do it alone.”

  Tullen smiled. “I think you almost could,” he said. “But none of us should have to.”

  She smiled back. Neither of them said a word, and Tavi again closed her eyes. She breathed deeply of the sweet spring air, accepting the peace of the moment.

  “Tavi.”

  She opened her eyes.

  “What you did, saving Jenevy? That was brave.”

  Tavi acknowledged his words with a sad smile. “Did you hear what she said to me?”

  Tullen shook his head.

  “She said, ‘We couldn’t save Pala, but you saved me.’ ” Tullen was watching her closely, and she swallowed hard, fighting back tears. She reached out her hand, palm up. Tullen’s lips raised in a small smile as he placed his hand in hers.

  Tavi took a deep breath and locked her eyes on Tullen’s. “I understand.” His eyebrows rose in a question. She’d have to be clearer; he deserved that. “I understand why you held me back that day.” Now her tears were more stubborn than her resolve, and they streamed down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said.

  He didn’t answer with words. He was crying too, and he let go of her hand and held his arms open. But instead of scooting toward him, Tavi stood, taking both of Tullen’s hands and pulling him up. When he was on his feet, she took two steps, and then her arms were around his waist, and his were around her shoulders, one of his hands resting on her hair. She pressed her ear against his chest.

  His heartbeat matched hers. Steady and strong and full of life.

  Epilogue

  Camalyn sat in a straight-backed wooden chair, twisting and turning every few minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. Standing would be better for her back, but she’d done enough of that earlier in the day. She was tired. More than that, she was annoyed. She’d removed her veil a few minutes af
ter arriving, but she was ready to get out of her hot Karite dress. She’d been waiting for over an hour.

  At the sound of a door opening several feet away, Camalyn was suddenly alert. Konner exited the building’s large meeting room.

  “Camalyn. When did you get here?” Konner asked.

  Camalyn stood. “Not long after you and Aldin did.”

  “Relin.”

  “Yes, Relin. I suppose I should get used to that.” She nodded toward the two safety officers standing outside the meeting room. “They wouldn’t let me in.”

  “They’re doing a good job protecting their king.”

  “Can we talk alone?”

  “Of course.” Konner led her down one hallway, then another, where he opened one of many identical doors. Camalyn noted the name on the door and felt a sudden pang. This office belonged to a councillor who was now dead in the building next door. The woman had been one of Camalyn’s colleagues, a hard-working public servant for more than a decade.

  They sat, Konner behind the desk and Camalyn in front of it.

  “What is it?” Konner asked. “It’s late; I thought everyone would be in bed.”

  “Aldin—Relin—is still up, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, I left him in the meeting room. I need to check on him soon; I don’t think he realizes how much wine he’s had tonight. I need everyone to be alert in the morning. Relin and I will begin meeting with some of the city’s prominent citizens. I’ll also send out officers to scour the city. We must find Ash and Wrey, and the all-blessed girl and her friends. We can’t have any of them out there, not with what they know.”

  Konner looked down and examined his folded hands. He looked tired. Older, too. Camalyn stared for a full minute, until he looked up and met her gaze.

  “I kept up my end of our deal,” Camalyn said.

  Konner gave her a genuine smile. “You were incredible.”

  Camalyn nodded. “I assume you’ll be keeping up your end too?”

  His smile grew wider. “After today, I’m even more in favor of it. But can we wait until the morning? I think we all need sleep tonight.”

  Camalyn stood. “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  A Note from the Author

  Thanks for reading Facing the Gray! Will you take a minute to write a short review on Amazon or Goodreads? It’s the best way to let me know if you’d like me to keep writing books like these—and to help others find this story.

  Continue the adventure as Tavi and her friends attempt to take down the new monarchy. Order Facing the Fire today.

  Want to delve deeper into the life of one of the characters? Download a free deleted scene from Facing the Sun at BookHip.com/JQQBRH.

  This book was emotional for me to write. I hope you experienced some of those same emotions as you read it. I’d love to hear about your reading experience; contact me at beth@carolbethanderson.com or through my website at carolbethanderson.com.

  I absolutely love creating fantasy stories. Thank you for reading this one!

  -Beth

  Preview of Facing the Fire

  Sun-Blessed Trilogy Book 3

  Every life is a story crafted by Sava. We are each part of his massive, unfinished book. Its tales vary in length, and their plots are marvelously diverse. Yet each story shares an identical beginning and end. I am fortunate, for on most days, I participate in the beautiful beginning. Occasionally, I witness the tragic end.

  Birth and death: Both have taught me tremendous truths about life.

  -From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana

  Dying. I’m dying.

  Time-smoothed stone pressed against Tavi Malin’s back, the thick cotton of her clothing failing to shield her from the rock’s cold touch. It leached the warmth out of her skin, leaving gooseflesh behind.

  She lay across the seat of a stone bench, one foot on the ground. Her other leg leaned against the back of the bench, boot-clad foot in the air. Gravity had tugged the cuff of her pant leg all the way to her knee, and the cool wind tickled the exposed skin of her calf.

  One of her hands hung off the edge of the bench, and the other rested on the fabric of her shirt, over her heart. Thick, viscous fluid trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were closed. An insect landed on her cheek, and she didn’t flinch or bat it away. Her slack lips parted just enough to release a low moan.

  Footsteps approached. Two pairs, if Tavi’s ears served her correctly. She moaned again, her wordless cry begging the pedestrians to notice her.

  The footsteps grew louder, then halted. From above Tavi, a man spoke. “She doesn’t look like she’s dying at all.”

  Tavi moaned again, even louder. She gripped the fabric of her shirt, her fingers rigid as claws.

  Another voice, this one female: “Not even a bit. I’ve seen plenty of dying people, and not one of them has managed to pass into Senniet with a foot spearing the air.”

  “The blood on her mouth is too bright.” The man sighed deeply as if this fact, above all others, offended him.

  “Ah, well,” the woman said, “what can we expect from an Outsider?”

  The footsteps resumed, gradually quieting. Tavi huffed, swung her top leg down, and sat up, nearly tumbling off the bench before she regained her equilibrium. She grabbed a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and wiped the thickened berry juice from her mouth. Looking at it, she had to agree with the woman. It was far too red.

  “Judges came by already?”

  Tavi turned to her left to see Tullen approaching. She scowled. “Yes, and they weren’t very nice.”

  He sat next to her and gave her a serious look. “I agree; I’ve always found them to be terribly judgmental judges.” Tavi laughed, and Tullen grinned. “It’s your first year; most of the entrants have been doing this since they started school,” he said. “They’re experts.”

  “You really let five-year-olds pretend they’re dying?”

  “Meadow children start school at age four.”

  Tavi shook her head. “This is the strangest custom I’ve ever heard of. Why can’t you use your autumn festival to celebrate magic, like the rest of Cormina?”

  “Because we are not like the rest of Cormina.”

  Tavi recited the last phrase in unison with Tullen: not like the rest of Cormina. This was a common response to her questions. And it was true. In fact, she doubted whether the Meadow was like any other place in the world.

  Tullen’s hand came up to her hair, and she turned her face toward it. But before she could rest her cheek on his warm palm, he pulled his hand back, a brown leaf pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “This must have blown into your hair when you were doing your dreadful imitation of a dying contortionist.” He smashed the leaf in his fist and dropped the crumbling pieces on Tavi’s lap. “Autumn is when plants die, to be reborn in spring.”

  “True. But the Meadow could celebrate the beautiful autumn leaves, or the apple harvest, or any number of other things besides death.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose. But we only honor death as part of the cycle of life.” Tullen stood. “Care to take a stroll? You can see the master death imitators in action. Or rather, not in action.”

  In response, Tavi stood, and they began to walk. Sure enough, on this short street alone, at least a dozen people were simulating death or dying. Several lay on the ground, and Tavi noticed they all looked a lot more natural than she’d felt. The counterfeit blood she saw was a darker red, too. “Do you know how they get their blood to look so real?” Tavi asked as they passed a young girl lying in the grass with a frighteningly realistic fake wound on her forehead.

  “I have no idea; I never used the stuff.”

  “We’ll have to ask someone,” Tavi said. “For next year.”

  Tullen’s head swiveled, and his eyes met hers. “Next year?”

  Tavi shrugged and looked to her right. Stopping, she asked, “Is that boy attached to the tree with an arrow?”

  Together, they approached. S
ure enough, what appeared to be a real arrow poked out of an adolescent boy’s chest. He stood straight, his back against a tree, and called to them in a hoarse voice, “I think they got me! The archers, I think they got me!”

  In the presence of such a performance, Tavi felt the need to whisper, like they were in a theater. She stood on her tiptoes and aimed her soft words at Tullen’s ear. “Will he win?”

  Tullen responded just as quietly. “I heard he got second place last year, so I’m sure he’s hoping to.”

  They moved on. After a few minutes, Tullen asked, “Do you really think we’ll still be here next year?”

  “Probably.” Tavi put her hands in the pockets of her trousers and grinned at Tullen. “After all, if I leave, people might tell me to wear dresses again.” When they’d arrived in the Meadow, it hadn’t taken Tavi long to realize the people there weren’t uptight about things like clothing choices. She hadn’t seen any Meadow women wearing pants, but she’d decided to take the risk. The first time she wore trousers and a shirt belonging to Jenevy’s younger brother, she’d gotten a few surprised looks, but no one had commented. Ever since, Tavi had worn that very outfit at least twice a week. She’d recently hired a seamstress to make her a shirt and pants of her own. Something that would fit just right.

  “I don’t think you’ll ever stop wearing pants, no matter what people say.” Tullen gave her a smile. “And there are a few other things to consider besides the comfort of your wardrobe.”

  Tavi released a small sigh. Tullen wouldn’t let her escape this conversation. “I can’t imagine having the plans and resources we need in less than a year,” she said. “Several years, more likely. I don’t like it any more than you do.”