The Battle for Astodia

by Maryam Durrani

  Lies. There was something else he wasn’t telling me.

  “Do you know who he is?” The king eyed me icily, starting to pace. He was changing the subject. “Do you know any

  thing?”

  I didn’t reply. I stared coldly into his icy eyes.

  “That boy is my archenemy’s nephew,” he said when I didn’t reply. He meant Clarice.

  “I know she’s your enemy,” I rolled my eyes, squeezing out the water from my hair. “She leads the rebel army.”

  The king laughed, loudly and coldly, throwing his head back as he did. “Oh, there’s so much more to that. And since we have a little time until the rest of your friends are caught, let me explain to you just what you have done.

  “When I was younger,” the king began, “before I came to live in the castle, there were two best friends. They both were older than me by years, and they were so close that nothing could ever separate them. One of those boys was a prince.”

  “Wasn’t that you?” I interrupted.

  “Silence,” he ordered, and continued. “When they got older, the prince’s father took in his orphaned nephew as his second son.” He scoffed. “The way I took you in, you ungrateful girl.” He looked me up and down with disgust.

  “Meanwhile, the two best friends fell in love with two sisters. While the prince’s best friend was allowed to marry whoever he wished, the prince found himself trapped, betrothed to another, but he was so deeply in love that he ran away with the girl, leaving the throne open to his cousin.

  “Years passed, and the cousin grew older, more mature, a prince now. As he became a man, news reached him that the true prince, the one who had ran away with the love of his life, had passed. The cousin became king soon later. After many years, the cousin discovered that the deceased prince had a son, one around the same age as his best friend who had mar-ried the sister.”

  The gears started shifting in my brain and I felt my stomach drop. “The two sisters were Clarice and Janine.” A cold smile crept across the king’s face. “The prince’s best friend married Janine,” I muttered. “Their son was Lance.”

  “The prisoner,” King Sadim nodded.

  “That means the prince who ran away married Clarice. Which also means their daughter was Lorelle.” I gasped. “That means Lorelle is of royal blood.”

  “And the orphan?” he pressed.

  “You’re the orphaned boy,” I concluded, staring at his face. “The cousin of the true prince, who was Lorelle’s father.”

  Lorelle was the princess of Astodia. The true heir to the throne.

  TWENTY FOUR

  I didn’t resist as they dragged me to the dungeon. The king underestimated me; I could leave whenever I wanted, but something was telling me that now was not a good time to make my grand escape.

  The Dungeon brought back many memories I tried to bury in the far corners of my mind. The king was a horrible man. I’d never thought about it, never strayed too long on the topic, because I knew if he threw me out, I had nothing. As long as I followed his rules, I was treated with the highest levels of respect around the castle.

  Now, I finally let myself see the truth. He had killed all those people because Clarice and Janine knew who he really was. They knew Lorelle was the real princess, and I was sure that’s why Clarice had the rebel army—to get her throne back.

  I laughed. Lorelle. I wondered if she knew who she really was. It seemed as if only a few days ago she was sitting with me, dreaming about her prince. I wonder if she knew that she would’ve been a queen if things turned out differently.

  Why me? Why did the king have to choose me, and from the streets? My head throbbed. “Why me?” I whispered, hugging my knees to my chest.

  That’s why I was still here.

  I needed my answer.

  “Wake up!”

  I stumbled to my feet, rubbing my eyes as the door creaked open and a flood of light burst in. The first thing I did was look down and take in my appearance, finding myself grimy and dirty. My fingernails were caked with dirt, and my head throbbed. It was my second day in the Dungeon.

  I straightened my back, clutching my fists to my sides. “What do you want?” My voice came out strong.

  “Someone is here to see you,” the guard said, his blue eyes cruel and cold. He was happy. They were all pleased that the feared assassin was locked up. They were getting their revenge.

  He stepped back, and somebody else walked in.

  You are strong, Adalia. Never forget that.

  You can do anything.

  The door swung closed.

  “Adalia, I tried to do everything to convince my father to let you go,” Xavier said softly.

  “He’s going to kill me,” I rolled my eyes. “You know the rules. Besides, he knows he can’t have me running around, on the loose. I’ll end him.”

  “You can escape now. Why don’t you go?”

  “Because I have nowhere to go.” I tried to change the topic. “Did Lance and the others get home safely?” I changed the topic.

  “Yes. They never found them.” Good.

  “Why are you really here?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I . . .” he hesitated.

  And then I understood. “So you’re going to get answers

  out of me?” I laughed, pushing him away. “They’re going to torture me to death for nothing before they kill me. The king knows I know nothing. Don’t you see? He’s testing you too.”

  Xavier’s gold eyes caught in the dim light, making them shine.

  “Go ahead,” I sighed, sitting in the chair, “call the guards in. What are you waiting for? Get on with it,” I urged.

  “You know I can’t.”

  “If he finds out, he’ll put you in here with me.”

  “I don’t care.” He slid down the wall opposite of me, and we both sat in silence.

  I woke up to find my head laying on something soft. The material under my head felt velvety, familiar. I sat up, pulling it out to see that it was Xavier’s cape.

  In a fit of rage, I threw it against the wall. The force of the cape almost blew the candles out next to me.

  Candles?

  Xavier had lit three candles in the corners of the Dungeon for me to see.

  It was my third day in the Dungeon. I felt bad for throwing his cape, so I reached forward to pick it up. As I folded the cape again, putting it under my head, I heard a crinkle. I unfolded the mess of a cape to find a change of light clothes wrapped inside. I smiled. Xavier had probably grabbed the first thing he’d seen in my wardrobe. Something I usually wore.

  I changed into the clean shirt and pants and realized they were the same ones I’d worn the day I’d taken Lance as a hostage.

  I set my ruined peacock dress aside and lay back down.

  Something crinkled again. Confused, I reached into my pocket. As I held it in my hand, I realized what it was. The scarlet letter Esmeralda had given me when I had taken the antidote for her, escaping. It was balled up and stuffed in as if I’d done it in a hurry without a second thought. I hadn’t remembered the letter until now.

  I ripped it open, careful not to destroy the contents inside. I held the letter close to the candles, squinting.

  Adalia, it’s me.

  I knew you’d make it back to the base one day, so I told Esmeralda to give this to you when you did, because I don’t know how long I’m going to last. The sickness is spreading through my veins.

  My heart sank.

  It was from the queen.

  I hope you’ve gone back to the base by choice, and not by force.

  Why would anyone want to take me back by force? And what did she mean by “back to the base”?

  This might come as a shock to you, but I’ve known you for a very, very long time. Since you were a baby.

  But hadn’t I jumped in front of her carriage when I was a child? How could she know me that long? My head spun with all these questions. Suddenly, nothing made sense.

  My dear, you’re not w
ho you think you are. You’re not an assassin. You should never have been one. Your parents weren’t your real parents. You were born as a rebel—the daughter of the founders of the rebel army. They were killed shortly after you were born, by Sadim. He wanted to raise you and turn you against them to show them how powerful he was. He was going to announce it long ago, after you took down all the leaders. He was going to brag about you. He was going to show you off.

  But then their organization started growing larger, and he realized he still needed you. And that’s why he kept it a secret.

  I’m telling you this because I love you. I wanted a daughter, and I found one in you. But I think it’s time you learned who you were. You’ve been looking for a family.

  And I have finally found you one.

  Celeste Cane

  I couldn’t breathe. This pain I felt was different than anything I’d ever felt before.

  Sadim had murdered my parents and turned me against their followers. He was truly an evil man.

  A newfound hatred erupted inside me towards the king. I was going to kill him for what he did, with my own hands bare hands. I was going to throw him in the Dungeon and beat him till he begged for mercy.

  Clarice had taken the rebel army after that and twisted everything up, using them for her own needs. She was coming for her throne.

  Suddenly, I heard the warning bells tolling again. I heard guards shouting outside. I licked my chapped lips. Were we under attack? I felt around for something to grab onto, when my fingers brushed against something cold. Confused, I grabbed onto it, getting to my feet. Suddenly, a new power surged through my body.

  Xavier had brought me my sword.

  I lifted the weapon, and I waited. Many moments later, I heard the sound.

  The lock clicked.

  My eyes snapped open. I scrambled to my feet, sword in

  hand, and slammed my shoulder against the door. It swung open. I lifted my sword to the person’s throat, letting the blade pierce the skin slightly.

  Golden eyes stared down at me, narrowed.

  “Xavier?”

  “Is this how you treat your savior?” he asked, wincing as he held up his arms in surrender.

  “Oh.” I pulled the sharp blade away from him. Holding it out, I felt the weight of the sword in my grip, and grinned. “Why are the bells ringing?” I asked, taking in our surroundings.

  “The rebels are attacking, just like that rebel boy said. There’s an army marching up to the throne room right now,” Xavier explained. “They had passageways and entrances all around the castle.” A girl screamed, running past us. I sidestepped as she almost flew into me. My grip tightened on the cold hilt.

  “Right now, we have to get out of here.”

  “You’re right. Let’s split up,” I said. “Try to find a way to the throne room—I’m sure the corridors will be blocked. Do not let them get to the king.” He was mine. He would die only by my hand, and if I wished it.

  “But Adalia—”

  “Go!” I turned away, beginning to run. My heart raced as I ran through the corridors, down the stairs. There was a battle going on, the guards fighting against rebels on the stairs. People tumbled down the steps, bleeding, getting trampled by the angry crowds. Scarlet blood stained the marble. Metal clanged against metal and bodies cluttered the floor. I gripped my sword, standing at the top of the steps, and closed my eyes.

  I inhaled deeply.

  Then, I opened them.

  I began to make my way down the steps, walking right into the heart of the battle.

  With an angry cry, I began to drive my sword into the chests of men, both rebel and loyal. Bodies fell around me as my blade pierced through flesh. I whirled and dodged blows from all sides, ducking and slicing.

  The first person I recognized was Demetria. She was the fierce warrior on the front lines, battling a large guard who fought back with a sword bigger than Demetria’s body. I held the sword at my side as a guard came running at me, sword over his head. I blocked his attack and kicked him backward off the stairs. Shouts and screams rang in the halls, trapping themselves in my brain. I was about to explode. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I screamed, driving the sword into everyone I saw, rebel or loyal. My mind screamed with fury, and my chest heaved as everyone around me collapsed to the floor. Everything was a whirlwind and it was just me, slashing, yelling, and doing something I was meant to do my whole life.

  “Once she starts fighting,” the queen whispered to the king as I eavesdropped, “she can’t stop. She almost killed the five boys that attacked her before I stopped her. One boy is in critical condition and is under extreme care.”

  “A street fight?” the king asked.

  “You could say,” the queen shrugged. “She was scary, and she’s so young.”

  “Serves them right,” he laughed. “That’s what she’s been trained to do.”

  My clothes were covered in blood. Droplets speckled my arms and face, my hair falling over my shoulders in matted, dirty clumps. I was scary. I looked up. The fighting had ceased.

  Most of the guards were dead, lying on the floor, and the rest stared at my face, mortified. The emerald on the pommel of the sword’s hilt was as red as a ruby.

  As I scanned the crowd, my eyes met Demetria’s. I was surprised she was here; the arrow wound in her thigh should’ve injured her badly. If she was here, it meant their numbers were thinning. They needed all the help they could get.

  Her eyes met mine across the masses of bodies and she stared at me, terror flickering across her eyes. I stared back, my chest rising and falling. I gripped the hilt in my hand, feeling the blood drip down my face, my hands covered in scarlet.

  I looked away. I had to find Clarice, who was most definitely behind this attack. I scanned the people, searching for her face. She was nowhere.

  Where would she be? Did she send her army and stay back home, in the comforts of the base?

  And then, I realized the truth. My eyes widened as I turned, facing the bloodstained hallway.

  The throne room.

  This was her distraction, leaving an opening for her to get to the king.

  TWENTY FIVE

  I slid out from behind the wall and crept across the bloodied floors, trying not to attract any attention. I had to get to the throne room, and fast.

  As I slid out from the tight crowds, dodging swinging swords and flying knives, I began to run through the halls, towards the throne room. My boots, wet with blood, skidded as I made sharp turns. My heart pounded in my throat.

  She couldn’t kill him. If she took the throne, Lorelle would become queen instead of Xavier, with this witch of a woman whispering in her ear. I loathed Sadim, but he knew how to run a kingdom, and Xavier would be even better. I couldn’t let Clarice expose the bloodline.

  I slid to a stop in front of the doors to the throne room. With one hard push, the large doors swung open. I walked inside, slamming it shut behind me.

  “Well, well, well,” a feminine voice laughed. I whipped around, breathing heavily, gripping the knife in my fist. “Look who has finally showed up.” Clarice had her knife at the king’s throat.

  “Let him go,” I said, calmly. “Now.”

  “What are you going to do, Assassin? All I have to is press this blade to his throat . . .” She pushed the knife against his skin, and the king winced, beads of droplets forming around the sharp metal. “And the throne is ours.”

  “You will achieve nothing. There are no witnesses.”

  “My men will be here any minute,” she spat. “I will have all the witnesses I need.”

  “Your men are dead.”

  “Lies.” She shook her head. “There are more coming.”

  The king eyed me carefully. Waiting.

  “You won’t win, Clarice. You know this. I will destroy your entire army, I will slaughter your people right before your eyes,” I said, my voice deadly calm.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Step away from
the king.”

  “He used you,” she sneered. “He made you kill your own people. He turned you into a monster.”

  “My people are those who I protect within the walls of this castle, and across the land of my kingdom. You—you rebels—are not my people.”

  “He twisted your mind. He played games with you. Join me, and I will make you the most powerful warrior in all the lands.”

  I smirked. “Do you think I need you, or him,” I said, pointing the tip of my sword towards the king, “to be the most powerful? You are mistaken. I already am, with or without you.”

  “Yet you are standing there, begging me to release your king.”

  “I am not begging. I’m simply giving you a chance. Step away from the king, and we can discuss this without you getting hurt.”

  There was a silence, as if she was mulling over my words.

  Suddenly, the doors slammed open and Xavier burst in, holding his sword against Lance’s throat. He pushed him in, and I stared at the prince.

  What the hell was Lance doing here?

  I turned back to Clarice who had tightened her grip on the king.

  “We can come to some sort of an agreement,” I said, trying to hide my desperation. This was the wrong time for Xavier to barge in. “Anything you like. A place in the castle, money—”

  “I don’t want the damn money!” she screamed. “I want what’s rightfully mine.”

  “You mean what’s rightfully Lorelle’s,” Xavier corrected. I turned to him, giving him a look. You knew?

  He kept looking straight ahead at his father, and at the knife in Clarice’s hands. He avoided my eyes. I pulled my eyes away from his face, trying to keep my breath even.

  “If you harm the king, I will end the life of your nephew.” Xavier’s eyes were steely. “Let my father go,” Xavier said. His eyes caught mine, and he seemed to be saying, distract her.

  Catching on, I started moving away from him, from the doors to the corner of the room. Clarice’s vicious eyes stayed on me.

  “He’s right,” Lance said. “Too many have seen you, including the prince. Just let the king go. There are better ways to handle this situation.”