by Cayla Kluver
He drew his sword from its scabbard and compared the two blades, then flipped the dagger over in his hand as if checking its weight and balance.
“It is a magnificent gift, if a bit excessive,” he said, his expression quizzical. “I can’t help but wonder what led you to make such a purchase.”
“I simply wanted to match the level of your gift to me,” I explained with a satisfied smile. “I judge we are now even.”
“I see,” he said with a hint of mirth that was irritating. “And is there any other way in which you would like to even the score?” He shifted position so that he stood between me and the exit. “As you have managed to get me alone, I am quite at your mercy.”
“We should return to the others,” I stammered, flustered by his manner. “My father will be displeased to find we left without a chaperone.”
“No one will begrudge us a little time alone—especially not the King. He is quite interested in moving our relationship along.”
His eyes perused my form as he returned his sword to its scabbard, tucking the dagger into his belt, and the blush that burned in my cheeks seemed to spread throughout my entire body.
“As you are in a rather generous mood, and as it is my birthday, there is one other thing I would ask of you.”
“And what might that be?” I queried, eyeing him with suspicion, certain he was goading me.
He smirked, then said, “Come closer and I’ll show you what will please me.”
I scrutinized him for a moment, trying to discern his intentions, then straightened my shoulders and stepped forward so that I stood in front of him. His eyes flicked across my face, and the back of my neck prickled, then he reached out with both hands and lightly ran his fingers over my cheekbones. My breath caught in my throat, but before I could react, he pulled the pins from my hair so that it tumbled down upon my shoulders.
“I like it better this way,” he said, letting a few strands drape over the palm of his hand. Then he grinned and stepped back from me, motioning toward the door with his arm.
“I believe, dear Princess, that you expressed a desire to rejoin the others.”
I nodded, too appalled to speak. I knew everyone would conclude from the change in my hairstyle that we had not just been conversing. Once more my cheeks flamed, this time from humiliation and anger, but as I could see no way out of my predicament, I moved to slip past him. Just when I was about to make my escape, he caught my arm.
“And exactly what was my father discussing with you?” His voice was a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
“The weather,” I snapped. “He thinks we will have a good crop year.”
To my relief, Steldor laughed, releasing my arm.
“Somehow I don’t see my father discussing farming with the Crown Princess. But you can have your little secret, for now.”
I hurried back to the tearoom, Steldor’s footfalls telling me that he was trailing. I waited just inside the room for him to join me and noted that our parents were comfortably seated on the chairs and sofa clustered near the bay window, sipping glasses of spicy mulled wine, with Galen and Tiersia standing nearby. Temerson and Miranna were seated at a small table away from the others, their foreheads almost touching as they conversed, his cinnamon-brown hair a darker version of her strawberry-blond tresses. I was glad to see that he had at least gotten over his shyness with her.
As Steldor stopped beside me, Faramay waved to him.
“Steldor, darling! Come to your mother! I didn’t know where you were and was beginning to fret.”
I could feel Steldor stiffen. With a forced smile upon his face, he strode toward her. I followed a step behind, confused as to the reason for his mother’s exclamation. While Faramay was, at times, overly enamored with her son, I could scarcely imagine his absence would cause her distress.
“There’s no need to be upset, Mother,” Steldor placated as he went to her. “I only stepped into the corridor with Alera for a moment.”
“You should have said something to me,” Faramay pouted. “You know how I worry.”
“Well, I’m fine. I went with Alera as she had a gift she wished to give me.”
Having reassured his mother, Steldor glanced, frowning, at his father.
“She thought you had left without saying good-night,” Cannan explained. “As you obviously wouldn’t do that, some horrible fate must have befallen you.” I thought I detected a rare note of sarcasm in the captain’s words.
Moving away from Faramay, Steldor extended his new dagger to his father.
“You’ll appreciate this,” he stated with evident pride.
As Cannan took the splendid blade, my father caught my eye, and I knew from his puzzled expression that he was trying to determine how the dagger qualified as a small gift. I smiled at him, knowing he would forgive my extravagance in light of how well the evening was proceeding, then blushed as he winked at me. I could only conclude from his manner that he was delighted that Steldor and I had stolen a few unaccompanied minutes, and that he viewed my disheveled hair as an encouraging sign.
After the dagger had been passed among our parents and praised, Steldor handed it to Galen, who began to flip it in his hand, and the thought that the two friends were actually one and the same person flitted through my brain. With a slight motion of his head, Steldor indicated to Galen that he wished to move away from the older adults, but he turned dutifully to Faramay before we took our leave.
“We’re going across the room to join Princess Miranna and Lord Temerson. You can keep an eye on us if you wish to do so.”
Steldor’s eyes flicked toward me as the four of us joined my sister and her escort, and I could tell he was embarrassed by his mother’s behavior. At my inquisitive glance, he gave a small shake of his head. “Don’t ask.”
Galen handed the dagger to Temerson, and as he and Miranna admired it, Steldor spoke moodily to me.
“I’m going to get another glass of wine. Would you like one as well?”
“No, thank you,” I replied, for though I’d sipped the drinks he’d already brought me that evening, I still had not developed a taste for the liquid.
“I’ll bring back two glasses anyway, and be happy to drink them both,” he quipped, with a touch of dark humor.
A short time later, my father rose to say good-night, signaling that the evening had come to an end. We all left the tearoom together, then Galen and Tiersia bowed and parted from the group to walk toward the front entry of the palace where Dameran, the older of Tiersia’s two brothers, waited to escort her home. Before Faramay and Cannan departed, Steldor made a point of saying good-night to his mother, resurrecting my question as to why she had become so upset when she had not known his whereabouts. Steldor then accompanied me to the spiral staircase, with Temerson escorting Miranna, the four of us following behind my parents. Miranna bid farewell to Temerson at the bottom of the stairs, but Steldor forestalled my attempt to do the same.
“I haven’t properly expressed my gratitude for the birthday gift,” he mused.
I looked pleadingly at Miranna, who grinned before she sashayed up the steps. Temerson adoringly watched her go, and then exited as well.
As soon as we were alone, Steldor reached out a hand to caress my cheek, and I watched him warily.
“It seems every kiss with you is a first kiss,” he chided, “as too much time passes in between.”
When I remained mute, he stepped closer to me, playing with a strand of my hair.
“Thank you for the generous gift, Princess.”
Resting his hand on the back of my neck, he inclined his head and gave me a teasing and sensual kiss. As his intoxicating scent flooded my senses, my lips responded to his, and he placed his other hand on the small of my back, pressing his mouth more firmly against mine. Catching myself, I pulled back from him, and he released me.
“I am willing to take things slowly, Alera,” he said, brown eyes smoldering. He ran a finger along my jawline. “I have a feeling you will
be well worth the wait.”
With a deep bow, he departed, and I traced my fingers over my traitorous lips, unable to comprehend how I could enjoy a kiss from someone I so greatly disliked.
CHAPTER 32
ULTIMATUM
OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS, I FRETTED over the conversation I planned to have with my father. I could no longer pretend that the King might be prevailed upon to embrace Narian as his successor when the primary objection to him was his trustworthiness. I also worried, given London’s opinions, that my father would be unlikely to approve of Narian as a husband for me under any circumstances. I was well aware that the simple fact I was in love with Narian would not be enough to sway the King. But I had to try, as my happiness was now inextricably tied to the young man.
To add to my frustration, London and Destari had proven adept at keeping Narian away from me. I missed his company more than I would have thought possible and worried about what London might have told him as the reason he could not see me. I tried to stay busy, but while I could keep my hands occupied with embroidery, gardening and the harp, my mind and heart refused to be distracted. Then a simple solution came to me: I could have a servant deliver a note to Narian on my behalf. While I couldn’t count on London or Destari to aid me, they could not prevent me from writing to him.
I was sitting in an armchair near the warm hearth, composing my note, when London exploded through my parlor door unannounced.
“Where is Narian?” he demanded.
“What?” I asked. “How would I know where Narian is?”
“If you know where he is, you must tell me.”
“London, as you well know, I have not seen him in almost two weeks.”
He spun on his heel, intending to depart.
“What is it you want of him?” I called, rising in pursuit. The insistent quality of my voice averted his exit, and he turned around slowly, as though he did not want to explain his reasons to me.
“Cannan desires to speak with him.” Seeing the question in my eyes, he added, “The captain sent Elite Guards to retrieve him, but the boy could not be located within the palace.”
“He may just have gone into the city. He is not a prisoner, you know.”
“I checked his room. He wouldn’t take all his possessions simply to spend an afternoon in the city.”
London’s quiet words seemed to echo like thunder. As I absorbed their meaning, I grew more and more alarmed.
“He wouldn’t just leave!” I said, the color draining from my face.
London stepped toward me. Placing a hand on my arm, he guided me back to my chair. As I sank into it, a harrowing thought hit me, and I glared at him.
“Did you tell Cannan about the legend?”
“Yes, but that cannot be the cause of his departure, as he could not have known of our meeting.”
“But how did Cannan react?” I persisted.
“Not well. Cannan has little patience for those who deceive him.”
“But why did Cannan send his guards? Why didn’t he just go and talk to him?”
“I told you, Cannan is angry. He takes Narian’s conduct personally and wanted to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation, as well as the seriousness with which Cannan will approach his transgressions.”
I sat, still as death, trying to understand why, how, Narian would suddenly leave.
“Alera, I must go. Cannan has sealed the city, and I may yet be able to find Narian.”
“You won’t hurt him, will you, London?” I whispered.
“Not unless I have to,” he replied, but his words were contradicted by the steely edge in his voice. Then he left, and I shivered, for there had been no warmth or indecision in his eyes.
When Narian’s bodyguard was discovered that evening bound and gagged in one of the third-floor guestrooms, it was clear that Narian had indeed fled. After no trace of him was found in the city over the next few days, Cannan called off the search, certain he had gone over the wall within an hour of his departure from the palace.
In the aftermath of his disappearance, I struggled to accept that I did not know him as well as I had believed. I began to reassess my own actions and feared that I had misinterpreted his feelings for me. The painful thought that London had been right about him kept recurring. I racked my brain for some other explanation, not wanting to believe that he had left because he did not think we could be together. I didn’t want to consider that he had no love for Hytanica, no feelings for anyone other than me and no desire for my friendship, even if it could not be something more.
The only other possibility of which I could conceive was that he had somehow learned of the discussion between London and Cannan and had left because he judged himself to be in danger. I knew, perhaps better than anyone, that Narian had an uncanny way of acquiring information, and that he would not stay and fight if retreat seemed the wiser course of action. I also knew that it would have occurred to him, just as it had to London, that much danger to Hytanica would be eliminated by his death.
Although Narian was gone, the Cokyrians had not abandoned the siege. I was baffled by this until London pointed out that it meant Narian had not returned to the land where he had been raised, for the enemy’s purpose was to force us to relinquish him. While I prayed for the conflict to end, this gave me hope, for if Narian had not returned to the enemy, then he certainly felt some loyalty toward Hytanica. London too saw this as a good omen, believing that the young man was hiding in the mountains. It remained entirely possible that Narian would trust us enough to return, despite the consequences he might face.
As we entered the month of March and the weather warmed beneath the spring sun, there was a definite change in mood about the palace. The tension brought on by the siege of the city was now tinged with excitement, and the gossip around the palace was that we were preparing to attack the Cokyrians and push them back across the wide expanse of the Recorah River. The river now ran fast and wild, fed by rain and snow-melt in the mountains, and if we could force the enemy to the other side and then hold them at our boundary, we could reclaim our lands. The city’s supplies were dwindling, and it would soon be imperative that we hunt and gather food and that we be able to plant crops.
Despite this altered atmosphere, I could not seem to find any solace from my grief over Narian’s departure. There was an ache at the core of my being that could not be banished regardless of how I filled my day.
We launched our attack on a dark evening in early March, with London and two dozen other scouts moving out first and on foot. As Destari was not one of the soldiers on the mission, I asked him what task this small group was to undertake and was shaken when he told me that our men carried bags of powdered poison. Their assignment was to add it to the food and drink of the Cokyrian soldiers at their various encampments. When I asked Destari why London was involved, he reminded me that London had begun his military career as a scout, and it was London and Cannan who had devised the scheme.
Several hours later, six torches flamed in the dark night, and numerous Hytanican troops, some on horseback, some on foot, moved out to try to rout the enemy. Destari was again my source of information on the course of the attack.
“The torches are a good sign. They are not only signals, but mark the locations of the primary Cokyrian encampments, so we can target them in the dark.” His black eyes were cold and unfeeling as he continued, “Those who survive the poisoning should be dealt with swiftly by our soldiers. It is time we clear the enemy from our lands.”
I could understand his feelings, in light of the losses we had suffered at the hands of the Cokyrians, but the level of hatred in his voice was disturbing.
“You may as well retire for the night,” he advised, then added, his tone no longer laced with menace, “We aren’t likely to hear anything until morning.”
“I will, but you must wake me as soon as you receive news.”
“Agreed.”
The sun was well overhead before our soldiers return
ed the next day. I was having a bite to eat in the tearoom, intent on avoiding any and all social encounters while I awaited news. Destari had accompanied me and stood just outside in the corridor.
Hearing loud and jubilant voices from the front of the palace, I abandoned my meal, and Destari and I rushed toward the Grand Entry Hall to learn the news. Several Cokyrians, hands bound behind their backs, were kneeling on the mosaic stone floor, surrounded by Hytanican soldiers who were all speaking at the same time. Cannan emerged from his office through the guardroom, and silence fell. Eyeing the captives, he ordered that they be taken to the dungeon.
“Kade will see to their interrogation. Unlike our other Cokyrian prisoners, perhaps one of them will value his or her skin enough to talk.”
With a jolt I grasped that our other enemy prisoners had probably died, unable to withstand our interrogation techniques. As I glanced at those being jerked to their feet, I realized some of them were women, and I shuddered, unable to imagine the agony about to be inflicted on them. I knew I would not possess the strength or bravery required to face such an ordeal.
As Cannan’s directive was carried out, London arrived, looking ragged, and I wondered what he and his men had suffered in the night.
“Report,” Cannan said.
“The poison worked most effectively, and one third of the Cokyrian soldiers died or fell ill as a result. There was much confusion among the rest, as they tried to determine what had felled their comrades. Despite these disadvantages, they rallied to put up a ferocious fight. Eventually, we drove them toward the river. Some managed to cross the bridge, but most plunged into the Recorah. It was impossible to tell in the dark how many drowned and how many made it across to the other bank.” London sounded exhilarated that the mission had been successful. “Our wounded have been brought to the infirmary, and I have stationed the rest of our troops along the river. They are tired, however, and reinforcements should be sent.”