by N M Zoltack
As quiet as a lark, she slipped away from him and their hiding place. It did not take her long to reach her destination—Atlan Castle—but it was not easy to slip inside the castle walls, not until she noticed a small caravan of travelers, a bunch of families, and a merchant with a wagon, that she found a means to glide inside unnoticed.
From there, Olympia stayed with the crowd until they entered the keep. Then, she darted off, trying to find… Honestly, she did not know what she sought to find. The throne room? The hour was late. The queens—both of the pretenders—could very well have retired to their chambers already, leaving the throne room unattended. If that were the case, perhaps she could even sit on the throne that had once been her father’s seat, but then what? She had no crown, and no one knew she was here. No one was secretly drinking to her family. No one hoped for the return of the Lis because they had no knowledge that she even had been born.
Her or her twin.
Olympia rubbed her chest, right where her sigil should be, that of a plum tree on a black background with white six-pointed stars in the corners. How could she uncover her twin when she had no notion who or where he could be? Had another one of their family’s servants stayed with him? Did he even know who he was? What kind of life had he lived? Did he look like her? If she passed him on the streets or even here in the keep, would she recognize him or him her?
Most of the keep was quiet, and Olympia had been wandering about alone. Footsteps headed her way, and in a panic, she opened the door closest to her and slipped inside the room. It was dark, and she reached around for a candle. Her fingers found one and also instruments to light it, and her eyes opened when she discovered where she was.
The library.
Swiftly, Olympia illuminated the room, spreading the fire to other candles, and she settled in to read the history of Tenoch. To her vast disappointment, she read hardly anything at all about her family. Each time she unrolled another scroll or flipped through another book, she had new hope that she would see the Li name. Over and over again, she found nothing at all.
Bitterly disappointed, she blew out the candles one by one, the candle she held last of all. For a moment, she remained there, sitting in the darkness.
That was how she felt most of the time, as if she were alone in the darkness fighting to locate the light. Others constantly snuffed out her fire, but her fire would return one day, burning hotter and farther than ever before.
Olympia smiled to herself, returned the candle to its spot, and swept out of the library. Without fear of misremembering the way, she retraced her steps, seeing no other souls, and slipped out of the keep. The guards atop the wall called down to her, and she merely said that she was hoping to have better luck hunting for food at night.
“I had no luck earlier today,” she said, which was not a lie, and they waved her away.
The Li princess returned to her locale with Bjorn. He slept yet, fitful once more, and she thought about touching him again. Instead, she lay beside him, and she strove to find some peace and rest for a change.
50
Bjorn Ivano
Bjorn did his best not to stiffen or react when Olympia lay down near him. Did she take him for a fool? He knew she had left, but where had she gone to? Why had she left? Why had she returned?
Not willing to give away that he was awake, he did not move a muscle until the sun began to rise. She stirred and went to sit up, but like a snake, his arm snatched out and pinned her to him.
“You left,” he hissed in her eye.
“Let go of me.”
“Not until you explain why you left. What were you doing?”
“What I was doing is none of your concern!”
“No? You were gone too long to have been taking care of… necessities.”
She elbowed him in the chest, and he released her. She sat up abruptly, wrapping her arms around her bent legs, her chin resting on her knees.
He sat up, considered getting up to pace, but refrained. It might be better to be on her level than to stand while she was sitting. In this position, she looked vulnerable, even though he knew that wasn’t the case.
“You left when we are in the heart of enemy territory,” he said, trying not to sound accusatory, although that proved a difficult feat. “I know you think of this land as yours, but no one knows you live. No one knows—”
“That I was even born. I know that. I know that they are ignorant about us.” Her eyes widened. “About our alliance,” she said, but he narrowed his eyes. That had been a slip of the tongue, but what did it mean?
“What will it take for you to trust me?” he asked. “Do I have to die for you? Is that it?”
“Bjorn—”
“Can’t I be worried about you? It’s not that I have to know where you were, if you saw or spoke to anyone. You left, and I… I had no idea where you were, if you were hurt, if you needed me…”
She softened some, and his chest ached. Why did his chest ache?
“You won’t let me in,” he said gruffly, wanting to keep some space between them. “Why not?”
But Olympia, the frustrating princess, refused to answer and just continued to sit there.
“How do you mean to reach your goals?” he asked, changing the subject slightly. Maybe this would get her to start talking.
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
He ran a hand through his hair. “We’re back to this, huh? You not talking. Me second-guessing everything.”
“If you want to leave, you can leave.”
He snorted and shook his head, lips pulled to one side. “I’m too far from home, and there are dragons about. I’m not about to risk that trek alone, and I doubt you’ll be coming along with me.”
“No.”
“Well, then, why would I go back to Maloyan?”
“Bjorn…”
"Do you have a plan on how to reach your goal? You still do want to sit on the throne, don't you? We still don't have an army, and now there are not just the two queens. There are the three dragons. Do you think they’ll want you on the throne? They aren’t exactly ousting either of the queens.”
“They did burn the castle.”
“They what?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly.
“I… I think they did. I overheard—”
“You overheard nothing,” he said flatly. “That was where you went? To see the castle?”
She would not meet his gaze.
“Please tell me you only looked at it closer,” he begged.
Olympia bit her lower lip.
“You went inside. Of course you did.” He closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them again, he spied a small curl to her lips. “What is so funny?” he grumbled.
“You.”
“I don’t think I’m particularly funny.”
“I don’t want to talk about last night.”
“You did not hurt yourself?”
“No.”
“Then we don’t have to talk about it, but, Olympia, it wasn’t smart, what you did.”
“I don’t need you to lecture me—”
“Then let’s talk about goals and plans. Making one. How about that?”
She rubbed her forehead.
“Do you have a headache? Not enough sleep is my guess as to the culprit.”
“You are a churl, you know that?”
“I am not coarse,” he protested.
“You are peasant-like,” she retorted.
"I resent that, but I suppose a princess would think just about anyone and everyone peasant-like, so does that make it a compliment? Why, thank you, Princess! It's not every day someone is complimented by a princess!"
“You really are a knave.”
"Maybe I am," he grumbled, no longer willing to tease her. He slapped the sand. "You don't trust me, yet I stick around by your side. You have no plan, yet you refuse to make one, and still, I linger. You leave me, don't talk to me, won't open up. I am a fool for staying."
“So go,” she
snapped.
Her dark eyes had always lured him in, and the nostrils of her elegant nose flared ever so slightly. She never tied back her long hair, and he wondered if it were as soft as silk as it appeared to be.
“Why aren’t you going?” she whispered after a moment. “Do not stare at me like that.”
“I’m not staring,” he countered, “and I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“It’s rude to stare,” he teased.
“Why won’t you go?”
“I’ve come this far. I will see this through even if it kills me.”
“It just might,” she warned him.
“I’ve known that from the beginning. Now, can we make a plan? Or is your plan really and truly that you think the dragons will lay waste to your enemies?”
Olympia shrugged, grinning sheepishly, and Bjorn groaned.
“This plan is not one I approve of.”
"And what would you have us do?" she countered. "You can't show your face in the castle unless I'm the queen."
“There’s more to Atlan than the castle. I can go around the market, the shops, try and listen to some gossip.”
“And risk being seen?”
Bjorn grimaced. “I killed that man in the marketplace,” he muttered.
“You could be recognized. It would be safer if I were to go—”
“You aren’t going alone. I’ll go with you.”
“But—”
He pulled up his hood. “How does that look?”
She reached over and tugged his hood down until it almost covered down to his nose.
“I need to be able to see,” he complained.
“If people can see your face, they’ll recognize you. You have a rather distinct face, Bjorn.”
“Are you calling me ugly?” he demanded.
She laughed and looked away but not before he spied the slight blush on her cheeks.
He really needed to be careful. His loyalty to Olympia Li could start to turn to devotion if he were not prudent.
51
Prince Marcellus Gallus
Without a doubt, the Valkyries would not abide by this plan, but Marcellus was the prince, and at the moment, he would point to his crown and do as he wished. He had been on the outskirts, doing nothing at all, and yes, it had been important to give his men and women time to heal and recover, but now the time had come for them to move forward.
Wars waited only so long. One could not win by defensive measures alone. If one never attacked, they would eventually be worn down and be defeated.
That would not happen to the Vincanans, not even though they had lost the Valkyries, a blow that still pained Marcellus.
A few scouts had been sent out to find a suitable village, and the consensus had been a small village to the southern bank of Arlingway River. Marcellus and the scouts led the way, with Flavius Calvus bringing up the rear.
It felt good to lead the marching troops along, and Marcellus’s heart felt full. If they weren’t hoping to use stealth to aid them… Actually, no. They did not need stealth on this mission, so Marcellus sang a few bars of an old Vincanan marching tune.
"To war we go, through rain and snow, we'll march all day 'til our hairs turn gray. We'll fight through the night, give our enemies a fright, make them take flight, and then… we'll go to war again!"
The troops behind him sang a second round of it, and Marcellus chuckled. Aye, this was just what they all needed.
Although named Rapid Falls, there was no waterfall in the river. The city was on a bit of a cliff above the river, though, and they climbed the steep incline with ease. Slowly, the village came into view. With mud houses and thatch rooftops, the place looked to be fine enough. Not luxury like a castle by any stretch of the imagination, but there were farmlands in the distance, toward the south of the town, and there weren’t any guards by this entrance at least.
A young boy was the first to notice them. He dropped the knuckle he’d just picked up for his game, his jaw dropping too. Then, without a word, he ran.
The other children turned to stare at them, also shocked, and Marcellus grimaced when the youngest boy began to wail.
Parents and adults came out of houses and businesses then. The children raced to them, but Marcellus had strictly told his legionaries before they marched to not have their weapons drawn. This was an occupation, not a battle, not a slaughter.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Marcellus said smoothly.
“You… You can pass on through,” a man said. His hair was white, his stomach large enough to appear that an ale barrel had been shoved beneath his tunic.
Marcellus shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ll be staying a bit. Do you have any food? Any spare beds? We don’t want to sleep under the stars anymore.”
“Oh, and do you have any work that needs to be done?” Flavius asked, coming up through the ranks to stand beside Marcellus. He was as blond as Marcellus was dark, the two of them a powerful pair, and these kind folks recognized that at once.
“W-We, ah, we have beds, yes,” the man stammered.
“We need help in the fields always,” a woman piped up. She had the still-crying boy on her hip. “But you better listen. I doubt you have our crops down in your forsaken island, and—”
“Vincana is not an island,” Flavius said bitterly.
“Whatever you want to call it,” the woman said with a wave of her hand. “You come here, expecting to stay here, to eat our food—”
“We’ll work for it,” Marcellus assured her.
“Then you better listen, and you better help to plant enough crops for us all because we barely had enough last year, and that was without…” She eyed them critically. “How many mouths you all have?”
Marcellus opened his mouth to answer her.
“Too many, that’s how many you have,” she said with a snort. “Hush, now, Phillipe. There’s not a reason to be crying.”
“They want to eat my ‘totoes!”
“They’ll be plenty for you. Don’t you worry.” The woman glared at the white-haired man, who appeared to be far too timid to say more to the Vincanans, and she shook her head at him. “Come on then. You’ll be getting to work straight away, and you won’t be eating until the sun sets. We generally eat only two meals a day, at dawn and then dusk. We aren’t going to be changing things around for you. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I suppose we can,” Marcellus said. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“None of your business,” she said, snorting again. “We ain’t friends.”
“No, ma’am. We’re business partners.”
“Business partners.” She eyed him with a shake of her head. “Come on now.”
She walked away swiftly, still carrying the boy.
Marcellus approached the white-haired man. The other villagers were spread out, eyeing them.
“Who is she?” Marcellus asked.
“My… My wife,” he said, his voice squeaking. “She’s… I’m the mayor.”
Of course he wasn’t. He might have the title, but the wife was the true mayor.
Marcellus nodded to the man and hurried after the woman. He would till the fields or plant seeds or whatever they needed. This occupation wouldn’t be one where they took whatever they needed. They would earn it.
Maybe the Valkyries would approve after all. His father certainly wouldn’t, would expect them to pillage and raid and take what they needed, but Marcellus would not forget that these people were some of the ones his father sought to rule over. His father would not rest having Vincana plucked out of Tenoch Proper. No, he sought to have Dragoona reforged as Vincana Proper.
Honestly, Marcellus just longed for Vincanan to be its own country, separate from Tenoch and nothing more.
Maybe he should have taken Vivian’s offer of peace after all.
But that offer hadn’t been hers to make nor his to accept. His father was king, not Marcellus, and unlike the Riveras and those of Tenoch,
Marcellus wasn’t about to kill his own father so that he could wear the crown he never wanted in the first place.
52
Rase Ainsley
Leanne almost slammed the door shut on the heels of yet another man she had dismissed out of hand. She whirled around, her eyes blazing.
“No more, Rase, please. I know you mean well, but I just do not want to have to deal with another man. Your friends are very kind, and they know far too many men, but I…”
“You don’t want to marry?” Rase asked, shocked. “But why not?”
“What’s the point?” she mumbled. “Ma and Pa loved each other, yes, but they were also miserable together.”
“That’s Pa’s fault,” Rase grumbled. “He lost the farm. We should’ve grown up on a farm, Leanne! Did you know that? But Pa gambled too much, and he had to steal us food, and he…”
"He died. Ma died. My best friend died because she got pregnant by a gentleman who wasn't very gentlemanly. No, Rase, I don't want to marry. I… When you marry, I can move out. Don't you worry. I'll… I'll find a way to get by."
“No,” Rase said firmly. “You’ll live with me and my wife.”
“She won’t want that,” Leanne protested.
“If she wants to marry me, she’ll want it. She’ll want me to be happy, and you need to be safe, Leanne. I’ll keep you safe. If you don’t like any of those men…”
“Honestly, Rase, did any of those men strike you as good ones?”
Rase hesitated. No, he couldn’t say that they did. His friends had failed him. Then again, they weren’t exactly close friends of his, so he maybe shouldn’t be surprised that they weren’t going to the effort of finding any truly suitable single men.
“I got us some goose,” Rase said.
Leanne’s face lit up. “I’ll make a nice stew of it,” she said, and she rushed off to the kitchen to start the fire.
Rase grimaced. She really would make a devoted wife one day. If only he could find someone worthy of her! Until then, though, he wanted to find that goon, that Olivier Barbeau who had hurt Leanne, but he also wanted to go after the baron, too, Baron Dolaidh McInness. And to think Rase had kept the man’s secret! He had been having an affair with a married woman by the name of Lark Everille, a peasant woman at that. There was no reason to keep that secret any longer. Well, only after Olivier was dealt with. If he were to move against the baron first, Olivier would know he had a target on his back. The baron wouldn’t be able to flee his land, not unless he wished to give up his title, and a man and his title were never parted.