Legacy

by Cayla Kluver

  He stood to pace in front of the cold hearth. I took a heaving breath, regret nipping at me, and then resumed my confession.

  “That is not the only reason I came to you. If you remember, on the night the Cokyrian woman invaded our garden, it was London who put her under arrest.”

  “Yes, I remember,” my father said, coming to a halt. “Of what relevance is that?”

  “London said something strange to me that night. He spoke of the woman as if he knew her. He said she was the High Priestess of Cokyri, and that her name was Nantilam. When you told me her identity was not known, I asked him about it, and he said he’d been mistaken. He lied to me again, Father. I know he did.”

  My father said nothing, but stood deep in deliberation, rubbing the royal ring with the fingers of his left hand. I fidgeted, aware that I had just disclosed the most important secret of my life, a secret I had promised to keep for someone I dearly loved.

  “This cannot be,” my father muttered under his breath.

  “I know that he was a prisoner of war in Cokyri for ten months. He would know the High Priestess if he saw her.”

  “Has London told you—”

  “No. He hasn’t told me of his time as a captive.” At his baffled expression, I gave an honest explanation. “I spoke to Mother. I went to her for information and she obliged. Be angry with me if you must be angry with someone.”

  He said nothing, but resumed his pacing.

  “I’m sure London has an explanation for why he was gone, other than what I know we’re both thinking. He will tell you if you ask it of him.”

  “But nothing can excuse the fact that he left his post while under strict orders not to do so. And any explanation he has will not justify keeping this woman’s identity a secret.”

  He pivoted, then moved to open the door of his study. “Guard! Summon the captain immediately.”

  “Yes, Sire,” one of the Elite Guards responded before exiting the Throne Room.

  “Alera,” my father said, coming to sit next to me once more and folding my hands in his. “It’s very important that you tell Cannan exactly what you told me.”

  I nodded. As much as it pained me to know that with every word I spoke, I condemned my bodyguard and friend further, I would tell the Captain of the Guard the truth.

  After a few minutes, Cannan strode into my father’s study.

  “What is it, Your Majesty?”

  My father stood and motioned to me, and I complied with his command, telling Cannan all that I knew. While the captain’s reaction to the information was difficult to discern, his slightly drawn eyebrows told me he, too, was shaken by this information.

  “London and Tadark are in the antechamber?” he finally asked, his dark, perceptive eyes fixed on me.

  I inclined my head in confirmation, and he spoke to the Elite Guard outside the door to the study just as my father had done.

  “Bring London and Tadark in now.”

  Cannan glanced at my father, who indicated to me that I should accompany them, and the three of us reentered the Hall of Kings to await my bodyguards. My father took the throne, while I sat in one of the ornate chairs to his left, Cannan standing on his right.

  The guard soon returned, bringing the two men before us, Tadark perplexed, London wary.

  “Tadark, escort Princess Alera to her quarters,” Cannan commanded.

  “Sir?” he said uncertainly, expecting his commanding officer to give London similar orders. None came.

  “Now,” the captain prompted.

  I glanced at London, then stood and went to Tadark. As I departed with the lieutenant, London shot me a look filled with both fire and quiet resignation, a look that told me he knew exactly what I had done.

  CHAPTER 7

  NO EXPLANATION

  I SAT STIFFLY IN AN ARMCHAIR IN MY PARLOR, too distraught to move. Since leaving the Throne Room, I had tried to eat, to read and to embroider, but as time passed without news of London, I had become less and less able to concentrate. I longed to think of anything but what was happening in the Hall of Kings, but at the same time I could think of nothing else. It had been almost six hours, and the waiting had become unbearable. I wanted to know what London’s fate was to be, and yet I didn’t, because if a punishment befell him, I couldn’t help but feel at fault.

  Tadark had several times taken a breath to say something, but had thought better of it each time. He wanted to ask what I had said to my father that was so confidential London would be trusted with the information but not he. Though he had tossed accusations at London in the library, I knew it would never really enter his mind that my first bodyguard, his partner, could be charged with treason.

  London would not be charged with treason, I assured myself. He would be able to explain everything, and would return to duty before the day was out. I kept repeating the phrase over and over in my head—London is not a traitor—until it sounded hollow, and I was ashamed to discover that there was a part of me that doubted its truth.

  I did not hear the knock on my door, but Tadark went to open it, granting entry to an Elite Guard I knew on sight.

  “Destari!” I exclaimed, rising from my seat as he advanced a few feet into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  Destari bowed, then assumed a less formal stance. He was an unusually tall and muscular individual who made Cannan look short and Tadark childlike. He had raven hair, black eyes, a chiseled jaw and thick eyebrows that gave him an intense and intimidating presence, but I had known him my entire life and he did not frighten me in the least. Like Tadark and every member of the Elite Guard other than London, he wore the proper uniform, a royal-blue doublet, white shirt and black trousers.

  “I have been assigned to be your secondary bodyguard,” he said in his deep resonating voice, and the bit of undigested food that remained in my stomach from lunch swirled queasily.

  “Where is London?”

  Destari stared at the floor while he struggled to answer my question, for he and London had been friends since military school and had entered the ranks of the Elite Guard together.

  “London has been relieved of his duties.”

  “What?” I whispered, shocked by this news. “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “What I said doesn’t prove anything!” I recklessly retorted, struggling to absorb the consequences of my actions.

  “It proves enough.”

  “What does that mean?” My mind was racing, seeking some way to reverse what I had done.

  “London would not allow doubts to be cast on your credibility, so he admitted to knowing the identity of the Cokyrian woman. He also admitted leaving your quarters on the night of her escape, and therefore abandoning his post, but he would not speak further. He neither confessed to nor denied assisting her.”

  “I must see my father,” I announced, moving toward the door. I tried to step around my replacement bodyguard, who was blocking my path, but he would not budge.

  “Destari, move this instant!” I ordered, both my pitch and my volume rising.

  “With all due respect, Princess Alera, it is getting late, and it would be better if you waited until morning to meet with the King.”

  “With all due respect, Destari, get out of my way!”

  Tadark, who had been remarkably absent from this exchange, could restrain himself no longer.

  “I have to agree with Destari, Princess,” he began, but I cut him off.

  “You have no say in this, Tadark! I am sick of hearing your opinions!”

  Tadark, brown eyes mournful as a hurt puppy’s, shrank back, and I aimed my ire at the towering guard once more.

  “Unless you were given orders to keep me here—orders that I would nonetheless refuse to obey—you are overstepping your bounds. So move!”

  I pointed in the direction in which I wanted him to shift, willing him to yield. Admitting defeat, Destari stepped aside, and I stormed into the corridor, both guards following. I descended the Grand Staircas
e, the hopelessness of my quest tearing at me, and my anger turned to desperation.

  I entered the Hall of Kings, leaving Destari and Tadark in the antechamber, and found my father upon his throne, no guards in attendance. The waning afternoon light coming through the high northern windows resulted in lurking shadows in the corners, giving the room an ominous feel.

  “Father, what is going on?” I called, hastening toward him.

  “Alera,” he said wearily. “I knew you would come when I sent Destari.”

  I stopped before him, and he rubbed his jaw, the laugh lines upon his face paradoxically giving him an aged and haggard appearance.

  “Cannan and I acted on what you told us. We had to do what we did—there was no other option.”

  “What will be done with him?” I choked, a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “He is spending one last night in his quarters under guard. In the morning, he will be removed from the palace grounds.”

  “But Father, London is not a traitor. He must have an explanation!”

  “If he does, he did not share it with us. I cannot allow him to continue serving as a guard, much less one of the Elite Guards who protects the royal family, when his allegiance is in question.”

  “His allegiance lies with Hytanica!” I cried out, for I could not bear to think that London’s loyalty could lie anywhere else. “He is not a traitor.”

  “Well, someone is! Would it be easier to accuse some other member of the Elite Guard, when you have known most of them your entire life? One of them is guilty of treachery. Why could it not be London?” Taking in my tormented visage, his attitude softened. “I know that you are close to him, but I cannot run the risk of further betrayal.”

  “I know there is good cause for his behavior of late. He just hasn’t spoken of it yet.”

  “If he would not explain his actions to his king or his captain,” my father noted, “then to whom will he speak?”

  I wilted, sitting down on the steps of the dais. Although the answer was evident to me, I did not want to say it. If London would not explain his actions to his king, he would explain to no one.

  “I want to see him again,” I finally said, a dull ache in my chest where my heart had once resided. “I need to say goodbye.”

  I knew this could be the last chance I would have to see London. I had been forbidden to leave the palace, and London would be forbidden to enter the grounds. I knew not how long this arrangement would last, and if there came a time for me to see or speak with him again, I did not know if he would oblige. I had ruined his entire life in one audience with my father, and I would not have blamed him if he never forgave me.

  “Very well. I will have him brought to your parlor in the morning before he is taken from the palace.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, rising to curtsey. I departed the Throne Room, returning to my quarters to try to rein in my feelings and bring order to my jumbled thoughts before I had to face London.

  I woke early the next morning and sat on the edge of the sofa in my parlor to await London’s arrival. I knew he would be brought to my quarters with the rising of the sun, and I could not risk missing him while I slept. Destari and Tadark silently attended me, Tadark standing by the fireplace and Destari, dark and brooding, near the door to the corridor.

  There were so many things I wanted to say to London, but I would not have much time, and I was not sure how to say them. I did not know what his mood would be, or if he would be willing to listen. But I had to try.

  There was a knock on the door, and I sprang to my feet. Destari stepped forward to open the door, revealing London and a Palace Guard almost as tall as Destari and twice as thick. Apparently Cannan believed that someone of substantial size was needed to control the former Elite Guard. While this would have been true if London were set on resisting, it was completely unnecessary in this situation.

  “London!” I exclaimed, as though I had experienced qualms about who would be outside my door. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  “If it had been my choice, Princess, I would not have.” He stepped into the room, his voice bitter.

  I was dismayed by his manner, though I had no right to expect him to greet me warmly. I glanced around the room to see that Tadark was in a snit—his rounded cheeks were almost a match to my burgundy furniture, and his fists were balled at his sides. Though he appeared to be in an uproar over the way London had spoken to me, I knew that his antagonism really stemmed from the fact that he had borne the brunt of London’s wit for weeks.

  In contrast, the guard who had come with London did not seem to care one way or another how London spoke to me, a Princess of Hytanica, the thickness of his head likely a match to the thickness of his arms. Destari, who had stepped up beside his friend, looked uncomfortable, though he was not surprised or infuriated the way Tadark was. No one said anything, however, and I did my utmost to hold on to my composure despite the hurt I felt at London’s harshness.

  “Would you leave us now?” I said to the three guards, feeling that anything London had to say would be justified and worried that someone might interfere on my behalf. I needed to talk to London alone.

  Tadark was predictably the first to assert an opinion.

  “I’m not going to leave you alone with this criminal!”

  He pulled himself up to his full and unimposing height, puffing out his chest in a feeble attempt to look menacing, then deflating at the deadly glare in London’s eyes.

  “Oh, be still, Tadark,” Destari grumbled, reaching out to grab his best friend’s shoulder and hold him in position.

  Tadark mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, and Destari nodded toward the door with his head. “Get into the hall.”

  Tadark wavered, then crossed the room to slouch past the older guards into the corridor, not daring to disobey a deputy captain.

  “Take whatever time you need,” Destari said, giving me a slight bow. “I will detain Tadark.”

  I nodded, and Destari moved to tap the thickly built guard on the arm to remind him that he also needed to exit. When the men had departed, I turned once more to London. He said nothing, but folded his arms across his chest and moved to lean as always against the wall, although this time his posture was rigid.

  “You must be angry with me,” I ventured, taking a couple of steps toward him, not knowing where this conversation would lead.

  “And why would I be angry with you, Princess?” he coldly replied.

  “You don’t need to address me so formally,” I reminded him, for his use of my title was increasing my sense of desperation.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Highness. I’m speaking to you the same way all of your lowly subjects speak to you. That’s what I am now, you know.”

  “London, stop it,” I insisted, guilt scorching the inside of my chest.

  “As my lady commands,” he said with mock politeness, seeming to back off, but in reality doing exactly what I had just asked him not to do. “Please, London.”

  “I’m not sure what you desire of me, Princess.”

  “London, don’t,” I finally implored with a stamp of my foot, unwanted tears searing my eyes. “I did what I thought best, and you’re furious with me. Shout at me! Tell me I’m foolish and that I meddled in things I shouldn’t have. But don’t just stand there and ignore what has happened!”

  After my outburst, there was a silence in the room that threatened to stretch into eternity. Then London straightened and stepped away from the wall, his jaw clenching in subdued anger, and I stumbled back from him. His indigo eyes were harsh and a chill pulsated from him that was sufficient to rob me of breath. At last he spoke, his words cutting.

  “It’s interesting to me—it is my life that has been ruined, and yet you purport to be the one who is suffering. Perhaps you are not entirely convinced that what you did was necessary.”

  “I did what I believed best,” I repeated, for London had just pi
npointed the question I had been pondering since I had spoken to my father—had I done the right thing? My decision had seemed justified at the time, but now, in the aftermath, nothing was clear. “If I was wrong in my suspicions, you should have explained to my father and Cannan.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Alera. There was no way for me to defend leaving your side against my orders. No matter what explanation I might have had, that was inexcusable.”

  “You could have told them the truth.”

  “I told them what I could.”

  “What does that mean? You’ve been branded a traitor, London! The truth can’t be worse than that.”

  “Perhaps it is.”

  I was growing more distraught by the second, for London was making no sense at all.

  “What would you have had me do? I went to my father because I could think of no alternative. If you know of some other action I could have taken so things would not have reached this end, please share it.”

  “You should have come to me,” London said, as if that would clearly have been the most logical course.

  “I did! You wouldn’t tell me anything. In fact, you lied to me twice! What was I to think?”

  “If I had known what you were planning to do, I would have…offered you assurances.” London sighed heavily and brushed back his silver bangs. “You should have given me that chance.”

  “Then perhaps you would like to explain to me now,” I mercilessly countered.

  “It no longer makes a difference what I say.”

  London sounded almost sad, but I would break down if I let myself feel his pain, and right now I wanted him to talk to me.

  “Just answer one question, then. Did you help her escape?”

  “This isn’t—”

  “Did you help her escape?”

  “You don’t know—”

  “It’s a simple yes or no question, and I wish you would just answer it. Are you the traitor? Did you assist in her escape?” I stared at him, silently compelling him to respond honestly.