by Cayla Kluver
Narian paused with a piece of stew-soaked bread halfway to his mouth.
“The villagers are in danger,” he warned. “Cokyri will not hesitate to strike now that this attempt to take me peacefully has failed.”
“London thought the same,” Cannan replied. “But won’t some attempt be made to secure the release of the prisoners? An attack could lead to their execution.”
“They failed in their mission and expect that their lives are lost,” Narian stated.
Cannan pondered this information before continuing. “In anticipation of an assault, I have begun to move those who are ready into the city. Temporary housing is being prepared in the churches and meeting halls. Shelters will be constructed as well to handle the large influx.”
“They have to be brought into the city before nightfall, whether ready or not,” London declared.
Cannan glared at him, but did not respond, as his orders were inviolable regardless of London’s opinion, something I was certain had been asserted once or twice already.
“I assume you had the prisoners change their clothing. Did you confiscate all personal items? Boots, belts, jewelry?” Narian’s questions ended the silent battle between London and his captain and once again drew Cannan’s attention.
“Those were my orders, but I will check that they were fully executed. I have also posted a twenty-four-hour guard outside your door as a precautionary measure, and will assign a bodyguard to you when you are well enough to move about the palace.”
Narian nodded, but said nothing further.
“You should eat and rest now. The King will visit later today.” Settling his gaze upon me, Cannan finished, “Destari will return to service as your bodyguard. You should depart and give Narian some time to recuperate.”
He motioned to Tadark and a still-riled London to accompany him, and the three men left together.
As Cannan had given me no choice, I murmured a farewell to Narian and returned with Destari to my quarters. I entered my bedroom and crossed to open the balcony doors, stepping out into the crisp winter air. My eyes took in the activity that was underway outside our courtyard walls in preparation for sheltering Hytanica’s entire population. Beyond the city’s gates, villagers were crowding the roads, traveling toward safety in a steady stream. Shivering, I went back into my room, closing the doors behind me.
My father came to see me in the late afternoon.
“I am on my way to visit Narian and thought perhaps you would like to accompany me,” he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek in greeting.
“Yes, I would,” I replied, a tad too eagerly, and a shadow fell upon his face.
“I have come to know that there are…signs of affection…between the two of you,” he said, then waited for confirmation.
This was not a topic I had expected him to broach, and I was sure my expression was confirmation enough.
“I am assuming this affection is based on friendship alone. He is too young…and inexperienced…to be seriously considered as a suitor for you.”
His words were chosen carefully, but I knew there were unexpressed reservations about Narian hidden within them. I nodded, not trusting my voice and at a total loss as to how to change his opinion of the young man.
“Very well, then,” he said, extending his arm to me, and I knew he viewed the matter as resolved. “Shall we?”
As we left the room, he dismissed Destari, giving him leave to attend to other tasks.
My father and I visited with Narian for half an hour, although I said very little, not trusting in my ability to conceal the nature of my feelings for Narian. The King, on the other hand, was in high spirits, in spite of the threat from Cokyri that still loomed over our heads, most likely due to the victories that both London’s recovery and Narian’s return represented.
As my father prepared to depart, he invited me to take tea with him, a subtle reminder that he did not see it as proper for me to stay in Narian’s room without a chaperone. We descended the spiral staircase together and turned to walk toward the front of the palace. Our pleasant stroll through the first-floor corridors was disturbed, however, by the slam of a door and raised, angry voices. The sounds drew our attention to the Grand Entry, where London and Cannan stood glaring at each other, having just exited the captain’s office.
“If you don’t get everyone into the city tonight, you will find yourself gathering corpses in the morning!” London’s stance was tense and his fists were clenched at his sides.
My father disentangled his arm from mine. Indicating with his hand that I was not to follow, he bustled down the hall toward the quarreling pair.
“My patrols have reported no sign of the Cokyri,” Cannan said, glowering down at London. He took an additional step toward his vexatious Elite Guard so that naught but a foot was between them. “And you will not challenge my authority in this way.”
“Then in what way shall I challenge it?” London responded.
“You will show me proper respect and address me as ‘sir’ or ‘captain,’ or you will find yourself confined to quarters.”
It was clear that Cannan’s patience with London’s disregard for chain of command, as well as his propensity to issue orders to his commanding officer, was growing thin.
“Then I will catch up on my reading until the next time you need me to deal with a crisis. But when that time comes, you may find me unwilling to—”
London did not finish his sentence, as he had become aware of my father’s presence. Tossing his captain one final defiant glare, he turned and stalked through the front doors and out into the Central Courtyard.
My father and Cannan spoke then, but they were too far away for me to overhear their conversation. As the captain glanced in my direction, I shifted self-consciously, wondering if I should continue to wait. I did not have long to ponder the matter, however, for my father returned to my side.
“Forgive me, my dear, but I will have to cancel our tea. More pressing affairs, I am afraid.”
“That’s all right,” I assured him, noticing that Cannan had remained in the Grand Entry, waiting for the King.
“Would you like me to request an escort for you?”
“Thank you, Father, but there is no need, as I plan to return to my quarters.”
I flashed my father a pleasant smile and took his arm to walk down the corridor toward the Grand Staircase. As I left my father’s side and walked past Cannan, his troubled expression made me uneasy, and fear began to mushroom inside me at the thought of London’s dark prediction.
Early the next morning, I was sipping tea at a table in front of the bay window in the first-floor tearoom, passing the time, for the drizzle falling on the shriveled foliage outside was limiting my options for the day. I planned to visit Narian in the afternoon and had invited Miranna to join me, both for the company she would provide and as a chaperone. Although Destari would have been satisfactory in the latter capacity, I intended to leave him in the corridor, for I knew Narian would not speak freely in his presence.
As I drank, my mind revisited the argument I had witnessed between Cannan and London. I was entertaining the idea that I should ask Destari, who stood near the fireplace, about the incident, when London strode into the room.
“No one has entered the city this morning, no patrols have reported to Cannan, no villagers have sought sanctuary—no one. I do not believe anyone survived the night.”
Destari inclined his head in my direction, silently asking whether they should talk in front of me. London merely nodded, too distracted to take much notice.
“Do you know how many were brought into the city yesterday?” Destari inquired.
“Perhaps two thousand, but hundreds were left at risk. I intend to ride out to the countryside to judge the conditions for myself.” An undertone of anger had entered London’s voice.
“I will ride with you,” Destari said automatically.
“No. I suspect it will be dangerous, and there is no need to put both of ou
r lives in jeopardy.”
My heart leapt to my throat, but I kept my silence.
“I will see you upon my return.”
As London left, fear again enveloped me, and I sought refuge in my bedroom. Every ten to fifteen minutes, I braved the damp chill of the balcony to watch for movement on the other side of the city’s walls, but the landscape was oddly static, no signs even of smoke coming from the distant homes.
Stepping out onto my balcony for the dozenth time, I spied a rider approaching at a gallop. I rushed from my rooms, startling Destari in the process.
“London is coming!”
He caught me by the arm as I turned away to head toward the landing of the Grand Staircase.
“I’m not sure this is your business,” he said, and I rounded on him.
“Everyone in Hytanica, including me, has the right to know what is happening. It is not just the lives of soldiers that are at stake.”
He released me, frustrated by his inability to deny my assertion, and we hastened down the corridor.
“Cannan!” London bellowed as he entered the palace. Pointing to one of the guards stationed by the door, he said, “Find Cannan for me. Now!”
“I am right here.” I heard Cannan’s dangerously calm voice and saw him emerge from his office through the guardroom as I halted on the landing, mesmerized by the confrontation taking place below.
“Are you aware no one has entered the city this morning?” London raged, stalking toward his commanding officer. “Well, I can supply you with the reason! They’re dead, all dead! Soldiers, villagers, men, women and children, even animals, all slaughtered sometime during the night. And the riverbanks are crawling with the enemy.” Cannan’s dark eyes locked upon London’s indigo ones as the Elite Guard finished, “I would consider that to be a sign of the Cokyri.”
“We will not discuss this here,” Cannan said in a mighty struggle to control his temper. “You will come with me to report to the King.”
“I will take men out to collect the bodies for proper burial while there is still time to do so. You can inform the King of how well your strategy is working.”
London turned his back on his captain, but Cannan reached out and grabbed the collar of his leather jerkin, pulling him roughly around. “You will come with me,” he declared. He signaled to the guards by the door, who took a step forward, and his meaning became clear.
London said nothing, but his hands slowly came to rest on the hilts of his long knives. It was then that Destari rushed down the stairs, intent on ending the altercation before someone got hurt.
“London, what our captain requests makes sense,” Destari asserted, moving to his friend’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder. Then Destari spoke to Cannan. “Sir, I would like to take a detail of men to recover the bodies of the fallen for burial.”
A long and agonizing moment passed as London and Cannan continued to glare at each other.
“Permission granted,” Cannan finally said.
Breaking eye contact with the captain, London shifted his gaze to Destari, and some of the tension left his frame as he deliberately acquiesced to his friend rather than to Cannan. He then marched passed his captain, heading into the antechamber that led to the Throne Room. Waving off his guards, Cannan followed.
Destari returned to my side and pried my hands from the railing; it was only then that I realized how fiercely I had been gripping it.
“Let me take you back to your quarters,” he prompted, placing a hand on my arm to direct me down the corridor. I did not object, too horrified at the news to care where we were going.
CHAPTER 30
DRASTIC MEASURES
IT WAS A FEW HOURS LATER THAT MIRANNA joined me on the walk to Narian’s quarters. Although Halias was with her, I was, for once, without a bodyguard, as Destari had left to oversee the recovery of the bodies of the slaughtered Hytanicans.
“Is something wrong?” my sister asked, noticing my mood.
“The people who were in the villages last night were murdered,” I explained, a fresh wave of anger breaking over me. “Cokyri took its revenge on the defenseless. They slaughtered not just soldiers, but men, women and children as well.”
“I did not know,” Miranna murmured.
“How can they act so savagely?” I demanded, my anger escalating. “How can they look into a child’s eyes and show no mercy? They are no better than animals—they are worse. Even animals don’t kill indiscriminately!”
Miranna examined me worriedly, as she had never before heard such venom in my voice.
By the time we reached Narian’s room, I was almost shaking with the effort to suppress my rage. As my eyes fell upon him, the knowledge that he had been raised among the Cokyrians, the people who had committed these unthinkable atrocities, was uppermost in my mind and I unleashed my wrath upon him.
“Do you know what your countrymen did last night?” I lashed out. “Our people have been massacred—our men, our women, our innocent children! And all because we thwarted their effort to take you!”
Narian’s face clouded over, and he slid off the edge of the bed, a book falling from his lap to the floor with a thump and a rustle of pages.
“They are not my countrymen,” he bitterly corrected. “And both London and I advised the Captain of the Guard of their likely actions.” He let his words hang in the air, then finished, “This is war, Alera, and war is neither fair nor pretty.”
Another pause ensued, during which he looked straight into my eyes until I could no longer meet his gaze.
“If it is your desire that I leave Hytanica, tell me, and I will,” he added, his voice resolute.
A range of emotions churned within me until my anger broke, leaving me weak and trembling.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I do not wish for you to leave.”
He searched my face, looking for the truth, then said, “Come sit. Both of you.”
Miranna and I took up chairs near him and he returned to his cross-legged position upon the bed, but our conversation was stilted, and the mood in the room remained bleak.
“Maybe we should go,” I finally said, after a long and awkward silence.
“I will be up and around the palace tomorrow,” Narian offered, his eyes upon me. “Perhaps we will meet under less strained circumstances.”
“Perhaps,” I said, and I departed with my sister, Halias falling into step behind us.
“You cannot blame Narian for what the Cokyrians did last night,” Miranna said. “Although,” she continued, furrowing her brow, “I don’t understand why they are so insistent upon his return.”
She stopped and faced Halias, the fingers of her left hand entwined in her strawberry-blond hair.
“Do you know of a reason for the Cokyrians to be so obsessed with recovering Narian?”
“I do not.” Halias shrugged, his answer no doubt honest.
“I’m not sure that is our concern,” I interjected, trying to quash my sister’s inquisitiveness.
I saw Halias raise his eyebrows, and I knew he was thinking that I was not one to leave well enough alone. I decided it was time to move on, and took Miranna’s hand to lead her to her quarters. As we reached the door to her parlor, she tugged me inside, leaving Halias standing in the corridor.
“What is going on between you and Narian?” she queried, without any preliminaries.
“What do you mean?” I answered guardedly, though I knew my reddening cheeks would give me away.
“Come now, Sister,” she coaxed, pulling me down to sit next to her on the deep blue velvet sofa. “I know you too well not to recognize the signs.” She grew yet more serious as she continued, “You were much too nervous while he was missing, much too eager to see him upon his return, and your outburst just now was a bit extreme. So, it’s time to confess.”
My thoughts were scrambled—I knew I could trust her, yet did not want to tell her some of the secrets Narian and I shared. I felt as though the clandestine time I had spent wit
h him would be spoiled if anyone else knew about our meetings.
“I have come to enjoy his company.”
“Have you kissed?” she audaciously asked.
I once again knew that my rising color would give me away.
“Ye-e-es,” I drew the word out as though that would prevent her from pursuing the matter.
“More than once?”
“Yes,” I said, slightly irritated that she was clinging to the topic. As she waited, a knowing smile upon her lips, I continued, “He is very warm and considerate, and he treats me differently from the way Steldor or any of the other young men I know treat me.”
“‘Differently’ in what way?”
“With more respect. He listens to me, giving me his full and undivided attention, and he values my knowledge and advice.”
“Well, that would be a bit different from Steldor,” she admitted with a laugh. “So are you going to talk to Father? After all, he has given Steldor alone permission to court you—he would be very unhappy to find that someone else is secretly doing the same.”
“I would, but just yesterday, Father made his opinion of Narian known.”
At her puzzled glance, I elaborated.
“Father came to my quarters so that I might accompany him on a visit to Narian. He said that he has come to know of signs of affection between Narian and me, but that he assumes they are signs of friendship. He said that he would not view Narian as an appropriate suitor.” I sighed heavily before continuing. “Even I admit that Narian does not meet any of Father’s criteria. He is too young, owns nothing but the shirt on his back and has a questionable military background.”
As was her habit, Miranna played with a strand of hair while she considered how to reply.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but if that is the way Father feels, then you should perhaps limit your contact with Narian. Otherwise, you may be setting yourself up for heart-ache.” Her manner was gentle, but her aspect was unusually serious.
“You are right, of course. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my distance.”