“Adora, we can sort this out when—”
“I’m pregnant.”
It was as though she had struck him across the face. His mouth was open to finish his sentence, and it hung that way. “What?”
She felt nothing. How could she escape when her prison grew inside her?
“Whose is it?” he finally managed.
“Yours, dear Galius,” she said acidly.
“Adora—”
“What do you think I’ve been doing here for two weeks while you’ve been running around with your Highblade friends? Locked away in the Archon’s bedroom. What could he possibly have me doing?”
“It’s...his?” He seemed ill.
She closed her eyes, put a hand on the marble rail to steady herself. The Archon wanted his own issue on the throne. She was a fool that she hadn’t seen it in the first moment when she’d made his bargain. And she was suddenly certain that was the nature of her father’s betrayal of the Archon, that her father had lain with the Duchess of Felesh. It all fit. Of course. Biren was her half-brother.
“You don’t know that,” Galius said quickly. “It takes months to know—”
“Take your quaint illusions and go, Galius. I don’t need you. I don’t want you. I never did.”
“You don’t know that you’re pregnant—”
“I know.”
His tense form seemed to sag. He was silent for a long time. She watched the white, thin clouds stretch across the blue sky.
“So,” he finally said in a husky voice. “You will just let him come again?”
“Go away.” She looked longingly below. Her arms tensed. She could jump right now, right in front of him.
Galius waited. It was as though he was thinking of the perfect words to say. But there were no perfect words.
Go away, Galius. She thought. I am a used thing. Nothing you can do will change that. I have no purpose. My passing will be like the discarding of old boots.
“How could you let him, Adora?” Galius asked.
The accusation lashed her, a bright pain cutting through the numbness.
“Let him?” she whispered, turning, and her voice sounded distant in her own ears.
“How could you let that old man put his hands on you?”
There was a distant roar in her ears.
“Could you not resist him?” he pressed. “Is it simply in your nature to—”
“I had no choice!” she hissed. She shouldn’t yell. The Archon would come. His servants would come.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked.
Her own cries of pleasure echoed in her ears, her body betraying her heart. She couldn’t breathe, and everything in the room was red.
“If you wanted to die, you should have done it then,” Galius pressed. “Before he put his—”
“You bastard!” she screamed, leaping at him, clawing at his face.
He caught her wrist, spinning her. His dagger clattered to the floor. Off balance, she fell into his embrace, and before she could twist, he caught her other wrist and pinned it against her chest.
“That’s my Adora,” he whispered. “That’s who I came for.”
She struggled, trying to get free. “Let me go!”
“You didn’t kill yourself when you faced your trials. You went through them to the other side, and that is what you will do now.”
“I hate you!” she shouted.
“Listen to me, Adora,” he whispered. “You did what you had to do. That’s all it is. And that’s what you’ll do now.”
“Let me go!” she growled.
“You can’t give up. I won’t let you.”
She slumped against him. “I can’t have his baby inside me! I can’t!”
“Shhhh. We’ll find a way. I’m going to get you out of here, and we’re going to find a way through.”
She struggled against him, but he held her firm until she hung limply in his arms. “I’m not anyone at all,” she whispered. “I’m just a thing.”
“You’re Adora. Strong and beautiful Adora.”
“You don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t.”
“I know you,” he said. “I would know you if all my senses were stripped from me.”
“How rare,” the Archon said from behind them. “A poetic Highblade.”
Galius whirled, setting Adora free so quickly she stumbled, clacking to the side and losing one of her wooden shoes. The Archon stood where Galius had before, except he was not a tense man in a foreign place. This was his room, his palace.
“How did you get in here?” Galius looked at the double doors, the only entrance to the room. They had not been opened.
“Let’s allow that I know more about my own rooms than you do,” the Archon said, spreading his hands.
Four red-clad Highblades opened the double doors now and entered, flanking the Archon.
“No,” Adora whispered.
“Now, beautiful Adora,” the Archon mocked. “You and I made a bargain, and you have not fulfilled your end. I cannot let you leave.”
Adora’s hand unconsciously went to her belly.
The Archon raised an eyebrow, and a slow smile spread across his face.
“No!” she shouted, sprinting for the door awkwardly, one foot bare and the other in the high-heeled wooden shoe. The Highblades moved to block her, but Galius was there, his sword flashing out of its scabbard. A ribbon of blood trailed a spinning hand and a Highblade screamed, and Adora made it out the doors.
The royal wing was only a short distance from the Archon’s apartments. She ran into the hallway and pounded up the stairs. Clack, thump, clack, thump. The sounds of pursuit were right behind her, and she looked back—
Out of the corner of her eye, Adora saw the woman on the landing a second before they collided. The woman gave a shout of surprise, and the two tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
“I’m so sorry,” Adora said, breathless. “I need to—” She cut herself short as she stared into the startled brown eyes of her younger sister. “Vecenne,” Adora murmured. Vecenne had been nine years old when Mialene was taken. She had cried as they took Mialene out of the room they shared. That was the last time Mialene had seen her sister, and that nine-year-old girl had grown into a woman in the last seven years.
“Who are you?” Vecenne said, shaking her blond braid over her shoulder, an angry furrow in her brow. She stood up, brushing off the front of her breeches and stepping away from Adora like she was covered in horse manure. Vecenne was dressed in riding clothes, boots, and a short leather vest. On the ground between them was a small strip of leather with straps. Archery. She was going to practice archery.
“I’m sorry,” Adora said again. She wanted to tell her sister who she was, but suddenly she couldn’t find her tongue. Instead, she stood awkward and uneven with one foot in a tall wooden shoe and the other on tiptoes on the cool flagstone.
“This is the royal wing, girl,” Vecenne said. Her gaze flicked to Adora’s shaved head, the scar on her cheek, the concubine’s dress, slit high up the sides. “You are not allowed here.”
“Vecenne—”
“You will address me as ‘your highness’.” She frowned, and her gaze lingered on Adora’s cheek where Selicia had kicked her.
The Archon’s Highblades finally caught up. They slowed as they reached the top of the stairs. “Apologies, your highness,” the first of them said, taking Adora’s arm. “We’re not sure what got into her. She won’t bother you again.”
The second Highblade took her other arm. Adora couldn’t make her voice work. They began to pull her away.
“Wait,” Vecenne said.
“Your highness?” The first Highblade turned while the other kept a tight grip on Adora.
“What did you do to her face?” Vecenne asked.
“The Archon—”
“She is the Archon’s servant?” Vecenne pressed.
“Yes, your highness.”
“I’ve never seen her before.�
�� Vecenne’s gaze had changed. “Did he strike her?”
The Highblade hesitated. “I believe she was a prisoner.”
“The Archon is selecting courtesans from the prison?” Vecenne said. Her lip curled. “What was her crime?”
“I was not told what she—”
“Release her,” Vecenne commanded.
The Highblade who had a hold of Adora hesitated.
Both of Vecenne’s eyebrows raised. “Did you not hear me, Highblade? Release her immediately.”
The Highblade squeezed Adora’s arm in frustration, then reluctantly let her go.
“Go back to your master. Tell him I’d like to talk to him about what he’s doing with prisoners in the palace,” Vecenne said.
The Highblades bowed stiffly, but they lingered next to Adora. Vecenne’s frown returned. “Apparently the Archon’s Highblades are hard of hearing. Need I repeat myself?”
“No, your highness.” They both retreated down the steps, leaving Adora standing awkwardly in front of her sister.
Vecenne’s stern gaze turned compassionate. “Come with me, girl.” She went back up the stairs and past the two royal Highblades standing at attention at the double doors of the imperial wing. Their pants and harnesses were predominantly gold, accented with red, a sign of the emperor’s own. They had not moved a muscle during the altercation, but Adora knew that they would have slain both of the Archon’s Highblades if Vecenne had commanded it.
Vecenne took Adora to the room they had shared as children, the room from which she had been plucked on that crushing morning. The memories rushed over her, and her throat tightened.
“Please sit,” Vecenne said as she closed the door.
“Vecenne,” Adora began, unable to call her sister “your highness”. She felt that the moment she did, the lie would overpower her, and she’d never be able to speak the truth. Vecenne was a thin strand that connected her to her past; she was all that made Adora a real person.
The princess smiled a little. “You are unfamiliar with the court, aren’t you? Where are you from?”
Adora hesitated.
“You may speak freely, girl. I will not hurt you.”
“You want me to speak freely,” she whispered.
“Tell me your name. Tell me what they did to you. If it was done out of cruelty, they will pay the price. Archon or no Archon.”
“My name...” Adora began, and choked on it. She thought of the Order, of how they told her she could never reveal herself. It was the greatest danger to the prophecy. If the emperor knew about her, everything would be undone.
Vecenne waited, her head cocked to the side. Perhaps she wondered if Adora was scared of the Archon’s reprisal, or if she was a simpleton.
“My name is Mialene,” Adora said softly. “Mialene Doragon.”
Chapter 41
Adora
Vecenne’s eyes flashed in anger. She opened her mouth to say something as her gaze flicked over Adora’s face. There, with her mouth hanging open, scalding words on her tongue, Vecenne saw something that stopped her. Perhaps it was Adora’s blue eyes, perhaps it was something in the set of her mouth, something that reminded her of their too-brief childhood. Vecenne stepped back and sucked a breath through a tight throat.
“No,” she whispered.
“Vecenne...”
Vecenne put a hand to her mouth, a gesture so like Adora’s. She began shaking her head. “You died. They took you.” Her voice was so soft that Adora could barely hear her. She looked at Adora as though she would suddenly vanish. “How?”
“The story is long—”
Vecenne threw her arms around Adora and hugged her tight. “Mimi,” she whispered the old name she had once used. “I thought about you every day. Every day since then.”
“I worried about you,” Adora said.
Vecenne hugged her and would not let her go. It felt so good, so warm that Adora cried into her sister’s shoulder. She had made herself believe that her family was Baezin’s Order, that her life was to be a pawn of their prophecy. But this was Vecenne, warm and real and loving, a woman who didn’t care if she served a purpose, didn’t care if she was able to seduce a boy or withstand torture without giving up secrets. This was her sister.
Finally, Vecenne let go of Adora’s shoulders, but she kept tight hold of her hands.
“You must tell me how you came to be here,” Vecenne said. “Why are you dressed like that? And why were the Archon’s guards chasing you? We must tell Father right away. He will be overjoyed—”
“No,” Adora said, so suddenly it surprised her.
“But Father has thought only of you for a decade. To know that you are alive. It would bring the life back into his eyes.”
Adora swallowed hard. She remembered his face when he turned away from her, as though he was erasing her, as though she wasn’t there anymore.
“He thinks of me?” she said, barely able to hear her own voice. I’m sorry, he had whispered in her dreams. I’m so sorry.
“Oh Mimi,” Vecenne said, squeezing her hands. “You are all he thinks of. It destroyed him, making that evil pact. He has lost all joy for life. He runs the empire, but he lives for his time alone. He spends hours in his magical workshop, locked up, searching for a way to destroy them. He would do anything to bring you back.”
“What does he do there?” Adora asked, but she knew. The Order said her father was killing Faia, turning their magical lives into weapons like the Imperial Wands.
“He is a beaten man, Mimi. But if he knew you were alive—”
There was a bang on the door, and Adora jumped. With a deep frown, Vecenne turned.
“Who would dare?” she said, letting go of Adora’s hands.
“It’s the Archon,” Adora whispered. The helplessness washed over her, and she felt small.
She thought of Galius. She had left him there to fight a horde of Imperial Highblades alone. He would never have a chance against that many. She had as much as killed him.
Vecenne started toward the door, which banged again.
“Vecenne, get your bow,” Adora said.
Vecenne turned an incredulous look on her sister. “This is the palace, Mimi.” She opened the door.
The Archon stood on the other side. Four of his red-clad Highblades stood behind him, their short swords drawn. Vecenne’s eyes went wide. “You have overstepped your bounds, Duke of Felesh!” Her gaze flicked to the bow that hung on her wall. Too late. Too far away.
The Archon completely ignored her, speaking over her head to Adora. “You have been a bad girl, Adora,” the Archon said.
“Did you not hear me, Felesh?” Vecenne said. “My father will have your head! This is my sister, Mialene,” she said. “Your trespass on the imperial wing will not go lightly on you. Take your lackeys and leave at once!”
“He knows,” Adora said. “He knows who I am.”
Beyond the Archon, Adora saw blood on the naked blade of one of the Highblades, and her heart turned cold. They had killed to get in. They would kill again if they needed to.
“Vecenne, run!” she shouted, moving forward too late. The Archon struck quickly and brutally, clubbing Vecenne alongside the head with the pommel of a dagger. Her sister crumpled to the floor. The Archon stepped over her. His smile was flat.
“You had to bring your sister into this. I would have been happy to let her live, if you had just given me what I wanted.”
“You want a child.” Her voice shook with rage.
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“You said one month!”
One of the Highblades sheathed his sword and lifted Vecenne’s unconscious body onto his shoulder.
“Leave her alone, you filth!” Adora screamed, lunging forward. The Archon caught her arm.
“Have a care, Adora,” he said, nodding to the Highblade, who drew his dagger and placed it against the back of Vecenne’s ribcage. “Shouting in the palace will bring unwanted attention, and we have so little time. You hold your sis
ter’s life in your hands.”
“I will kill you if you hurt her,” Adora said.
“Of course you will,” he said, offering his hand to her.
Adora’s cheeks burned. She loathed him so much her body shook. But what else could she do? Fling herself on him, scratch out his eyes and sacrifice both their lives for moment of revenge?
After an excruciating hesitation, she took his hand.
“Clean this up,” the Archon said to his men. “The rogue Highblade Galius Ash has abducted Princess Vecenne. The emperor will tear apart Thiara looking for both of them, and we can uproot any other lurkers while we’re at it.”
“Where is Galius?” Adora asked.
“I don’t leave loose ends, my dear.”
He yanked her arm, causing her to stumble into him, then pulled her down the hallway past the bloody bodies of the emperor’s Highblades.
Chapter 42
Galius
When the Archon and his lackeys burst in, Galius spun to face them. No legend would sing of this last stand, but he was ready. Let them come. There would be blood in the palace today, but not all of it would be his.
Never sever the line—
Then Adora bolted past him like a wobbly colt, one foot bare and one clacking in her tall wooden shoe. She surprised everyone, including him, but Galius leapt forward with her and his spirits soared. She wasn’t done. There was life in her yet.
He charged in front of her, blocking blades, cutting hands. He made good her escape, killed the first who tried to follow her and gave the others a reason to pay attention to him.
Run, Adora, he thought. Go with the Faia.
Swords bristled in front of him, and he turned away from the door, unable to follow her. But the Highblades had amateurishly left a narrow hole in the other direction. Their captain would berate them later for that.
He spun and made for the gap, parrying three blades meant for his heart. The tip of the third scratched his bare chest and left a scar on the silly X harness.
This was a man's life. He wasn’t skulking through the palace or traveling across the Badlands with a broken heart and divided loyalties. This was what a Highblade was meant to do. Give his life for love. Fight brilliantly.
Fairmist Page 27