by Rachel Crist
Kah grabs his whip and smooths it out. Even with his red mask on, I sense his smirk. I skim the crowd and my eyes fall on an assassin wearing a red cloak—the Commander. Will he save me?
Goosebumps form over my entire body with my skin suddenly exposed. Holding my breath, I brace myself for the oncoming pain.
Crack. I grit my teeth, biting down on the sharp pain. I keep my head held high.
Crack. Crack. My body arches and warm blood travels down my back.
Crack. I scream. The lash hits across my ribs, the sting shoots through my body. As the lashes continue, tears escape down my face. I can’t control them.
Crack. My legs finally give out and my back is on fire.
Crack. Crack. Small black dots fill my vision.
After the last three lashes are given—my world turns to darkness.
* * *
I wish I were dead. It would be better than having the fire of pain covering my back. Trying to gather my senses, I become aware of a bubbling up of water. I open my eyes. The Scree’s head is bobbing above a pool of water. The bath house, I realize. It’s where all the assassins come to bathe. The cave is near Graves Hill, built around a hot springs.
The Scree’s mouth curves up into a sly grin.
“Vera, Vera. A girl who can sure make an entrance. Did you know that I felt your gift the moment you used it?”
I don’t respond.
“Yes, it was quite a lovely thrill. It didn’t surprise me that your first time using it would end up killing someone. I always knew you were a vicious little vixen. And to protect a boy?”
I refuse to take her bait.
The Scree laughs. “Oh Vera, I can smell him on you. To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed. I was sure your lover would be the tall blond I saw you entering the arena with earlier. Now he is an attractive assassin, hmm?”
Anger rolls through me—stupid bitch.
The Scree glides through the water, coming over to the edge where I am lying. If the pain weren’t so paralyzing, I would move away. She slowly stands and I see that she is naked. Unable to move my head away, I close my eyes—it doesn’t help. The image of her perfect breasts and tiny waist are imprinted inside my head.
I flinch when she touches my back.
“What the hell are you doing? Get off me!”
“Shhh. This will only take a second.”
The pain begins to fade and I realize she’s using the Enchanter’s magic. The king must’ve sent her to put me back together. He knew this lashing would put me out for days. Yet he allowed it to happen.
Her hands retract and she splashes back into the spring. I open my eyes. With my pain now at a dull ache, I push myself up. I too am naked. I slide into the spring, trying to hide my flawed body from the Scree—but she’s already seen it.
“The Enchanter could fix those grotesque scars of yours. For a small price, of course.”
I ignore her jab and wade away from her, moving towards the opening of the cave. I have no interest in entertaining her, or accidentally spilling anything that could get my friends in trouble. The Scree is a creation of the Enchanter. She has zero empathy for human life. She lives only for the Enchanter, and I have no desire to let him into any of my world.
“You know, your gift is interesting. Did you know it’s the gift from the North?”
I pause.
“Your mother was from the North. Oh! You never knew your mother did you?”
I swallow a lump that forms in my throat. She knows very well I never knew my parents. Because of her magic-hoarding master and his stupid prophecy, I never got the chance to have a family.
Done with her torturous conversation, I jump out from the springs, and run out—not caring that I am naked.
* * *
Entering my chamber, I see a package lying on my bed. It’s from the king, as is such a package every year.
Opening it, I find a beautiful white gown folded neatly inside. I lift it up. Tiny diamonds are scattered over the entire gown. I let the satin fabric drop down to the floor, revealing intricate designs.
The fabric alone must’ve cost a fortune. It has to have come from the North. That’s where all the expensive fabrics come from— silk and satin in particular. I think back to what the Scree had said. My gift is the Northern magic—Northern like my mother. I shake my head, pushing away the sadness that tries to surface.
I step into the gown and pull it up around my neck. I step in front of my mirror. It is truly the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen. The dipping neckline shows off parts of me in a way that makes me look stunning. I look like someone else entirely.
I turn around and look over my shoulder, pulling my hair aside. My skin screams red. Ugly welts overlap one another—a reminder of the stupidity of my decisions. The Scree could’ve made them disappear in her healing, but she stopped short on purpose. She loves control.
I spend the next hour soaking in the tub, letting my hair hang over the edge to dry. I still can’t believe I was able to do that to Slyk. I might not have been excited about my gift earlier, but the reality of what I can do is quite invigorating. If I concentrate, I can still feel the subtle hum over my skin.
I’m surprised I don’t have the gift of healing. It’s what the West usually inherits from their Guardian—at least they did centuries ago. And as far as I knew before, I was from the West.
A knock comes at my chamber door. Great. The chambermaids have arrived. I am instantly annoyed.
Every year the king sends these maids to gloss me over for the evening. They paint my face, fashion my hair in the latest style, and powder my body in glitter. It’s embarrassing. The assassins who get a glimpse of me, they rag on me the whole next week.
I dry myself off and answer the door.
“I’m all yours.”
They rush past me, and the giggling starts. I grit my teeth and do my best to shut them out. Let the torture begin.
* * *
I walk carefully down the corridor, trying not to trip over my gown. The chambermaids decided to leave half of my hair down in hopes of covering the fresh marks across my back. A hush went through the room when the chambermaids first removed my garments. You would think they’d be used to my scarred body by now. But each year, it’s the same.
Bellek is waiting for me at the end of the hall. As always, when he sees me all dressed up on my birthday, he bows.
This time, I curtsy.
“Wow. A true lady!” He pulls a wooden box out from behind his back and hands it to me. “Happy Birthday, Vera.”
I hesitantly take the box. He has never given me a gift before. I unlatch the lid and open it.
Lying inside is a warrior’s necklace. Hanging from a large knot on a leather cord, are three small grey stones and a feather from a Kepper, our most feared bird of prey.
“It’s beautiful!” I gently caress the red feather.
A Kepper is a dangerous beast that can easily rip you to shreds with its razor sharp talons. But they are beautiful birds, red with black masks that extend to their beaks. To capture just one feather speaks volumes about the type of warrior you are.
“I knew from the moment you were able to walk that you would be a warrior,” he says. “You might not go out to fight in battles, but the true battle is inside this place and inside yourself. These are battles just the same. I’ve watched you become a strong and fearless young woman, and I’m proud of you.”
His words touch deep. The love and respect I have for him is real and I wouldn’t be who I am without him. I wish I could embrace him this once, but I’ve already pushed the limits for one day.
“Thanks, Bellek. Your gift couldn’t be more perfect. Do you think I might get one more thing from you?”
His brow raises in question.
“Walk with me to my party?”
If I am going to spend time with a bunch of rich kiss-ups, I can think of no one better to go in with.
8
Livia
We rode for hours u
ntil Amah decided there was enough distance between us and the threat. In our escape, Amah had thrown the boy on a horse of his own. He has now drifted away a short distance, keeping to himself.
His name is Oliver. The man fighting the assassin and who helped us escape was his brother.
“Livia, quit staring.”
“But I feel bad for him. He doesn’t even know if his brother is okay or not. I feel like there is something I should do for him.”
“Well, don’t. Leave him be.”
I pull my cloak tight around my shoulders. The ground is still covered with a thin layer of snow, tufts of grass poking out in random places. But the chill in the air warns us of more snow.
I glance over and Oliver is whispering to his horse.
“Aren’t we more interesting than a horse?”
Amah breathes out heavily from her nose. I can tell I’m testing her patience.
“He’s just lost his mother, and he has no idea what has happened to his brother. Let him find comfort in his horse. Besides, we don’t need him poking around and asking questions. The less he knows, the better.”
What is he going to do? Tell the trees? I keep the sarcastic comments to myself. They would only irritate her more.
“I want to point out the bad decision you made to leave your bed. You should’ve stayed there.”
“But I didn’t know where you were! And I saw the Silent Watcher. What was I supposed to do?” I shake my head. “You know I can’t just stand by, and do nothing. And when I came across Oliver, I couldn’t leave his fate to the assassin. I’m no monster.”
A silence stretches between us.
“I should never have left you,” she says.
“Why? Because you think me weak?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I told you, I’m not queen material.”
Amah pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Livia. Your actions alone make you queen material. Sacrificing yourself to protect others is the number one quality a successful ruler must have. I said I should never have left you, because what you lack is the skill to protect yourself.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry for not being there. However, this whole situation shows me how brave you are. I’m proud of you—as would be your parents.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I like to think I would make them proud.”
“And En Oli?”
“Yes?”
“You are definitely queen material.”
I smile awkwardly as a heavy weight of responsibility settles into my stomach. I still don’t understand why a kingdom would want a sixteen-year-old to rule over them.
“How old was Queen Bellflower when she first became queen?”
“I’m not sure. The Temple will have plenty of material for you to scour through. I’m sure you will find all your answers there.”
“Temple? Pynth’s Temple in Willow Round?”
“That’s the one.”
“Weren’t you raised there?”
“For a time.”
“Oh! Isn’t the undying Willow there, too.”
She rolls her eyes at my excitement. She knows I love to talk about anything to do with magic. The undying Willow has stood for thousands of years. It is no longer in bloom now that magic is gone, but surprisingly enough, it remains upright and has yet to wither away. The idea of seeing it in person is fascinating. We can’t get there fast enough.
We stop for a short break, and lead our horses over to a patch of grass near the edge of the pines. Amah sends Oliver and me out in a search for anything that we can eat. In our rush to escape, we were unable to grab any of our packs.
Now that I think of it, these next two days will be miserable without any of our supplies. We can only hope that Oliver’s brother will catch up to us shortly; or the Regent’s guard will find us soon.
Twigs and pine needles crunch loudly under Oliver’s boots. I can tell he’s never spent time in the woods. My feet know how to glide quietly over the forest floor. It took me years of practice not to raise an alarm to anything we might be hunting. Which reminds me of something else we left behind—my bow.
I follow after Oliver, hoping to give him some friendly advice on what to look for. As I approach, he wipes his face.
Sadness settles over me seeing the tears he sheds. I reach out and he flinches, surprised by my closeness. His red-rimmed eyes scrunch together and I do the only thing I can think of—I embrace him.
“I’m sorry about your mother.” I whisper softly in his ear.
His body slumps and he trembles in my arms. The hum of my gift comes to surface. This time, I know what to do.
I close my eyes.
He stands in front of a black background. Instead of a red hue, however, the color blue radiates off his body. I can’t stop myself from feeling the despair that plagues his heart.
I can’t just push this away. My gut feeling tells me to pull the blue into myself. I gently flow my gift out and let my comfort transfer over to him. At the same time, I pull the blue inside myself.
His inner strength becomes stronger.
I open my eyes.
“What did you just do to me?” he chokes out.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I just thought you might need a hug.”
“No, I felt what you did. I know you have the gift. It’s why your eyes are that way.”
So he does know. A brightness appears in his eyes and a smile spreads across his face. “I felt my sadness fade, and for once I can breathe. Thank you.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I just wanted to help you.”
“Are you the princess our kingdom has been waiting for?”
I nod.
Amah yells after us—her tone alarming. Not caring to keep quiet, we dash quickly back to where she and the horses were resting.
Amah is standing at the edge of the pines, pacing back and forth. When she sees us, she motions us to be quick.
A deep rumbling moves under our feet. Looking over her shoulder, three black cloaked riders are traveling fast and heading our way.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Silent Watchers.” She hurries me over to Rosie, as Oliver steps back into the trees.
“I want you to listen to me very closely. When they get here, they will dismount. The moment I say go, you mount up and ride hard south. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.” I shake my head. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. But we can’t let them have you. You are the rightful queen and our people need you. You can’t think of me.”
Amah reaches up and wipes a tear that escapes down my face. We both know she will not survive this attack.
“Can I take Oliver?”
Amah shakes her head. “He will only add weight to Rosie. We need her to fly like the wind. I’m sorry, En Oli.”
I glance to Oliver. “He could be a diversion. Put him on his own horse and have him go north.”
Amah agrees and tells Oliver the plan. To ensure they can’t surround us, we stand at the edge of the pines.
The assassins stop a few paces from us. As Amah predicted, they dismount and stalk our way.
Their red masks are frightening and I can’t stop the tremble in my legs. Any of the three of them could take us down without a thought. I can only imagine what they are thinking, seeing an old woman, a girl, and a young boy in front of them. I’m surprised they aren’t laughing.
Amah pulls her sword out. “Go!”
Many things happen at once. Oliver and I run to our horses and mount quickly. Amah rushes the three assassins with a war-like yell and I kick my heels in as she swings her blade.
Fear grips me as Rosie takes off. This could be the last time I ever see Amah. My stomach knots up as I sneak a quick look back. Instead of seeing Amah, I see an assassin on his horse following after me.
I dig in deeper with my heels. Rosie’s ears prick back, and she swiftly tears through the snow. My knuckles are white from clenching the reins tightly, feari
ng if I loosen my grip at all, I might fall.
Following along the narrow strip of trail, snow flings out behind me, and I know it won’t be long before the assassin catches up.
Taking another chance, I glance back again. The Silent Watcher is right on top of me. I jerk the reins to the left as he comes up close on my right. The motion doesn’t shake him and he reaches out and grabs hold of my reins. I hit his hands, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he doesn’t budge.
He pulls up on my reins and brings us out from our full-on gallop. I’m still hitting at his hands when he grabs my hand and twists it. Pain shoots down my arm as he rips me from my horse and drags me over to his. I’m fighting with all the strength I can muster, when something heavy hits me over the head. Blackness takes hold of me.
* * *
Ugh. A wave of nausea rolls through my body. Already I feel the lump on my head. Groggily, I open my eyes and my world is flashing by. A deep throb pounds inside my head as I try to gather what’s left of my senses.
A gust of wind hits my face. As I attempt to push back my hair, I realize my hands are tied down to the horn of the saddle. Monstrous arms hold on to the reins on either side of me; my eyes follow up them. A red mask greets me and I quickly turn away. I twist my wrists, but there’s no give to allow me to loosen the knot.
With my body flush up against his chest, it leaves me no room to look around. I’m unsure if he’s continuing south. I would guess not, seeing as he’s from the East.
A low rumble comes from behind us and the assassin tenses. Suddenly, I’m pushed forward as the Silent Watcher digs into the horse’s side to push us faster. Wet snow flies in the air, and I find myself dodging a cold spray of ice.
I attempt to look behind, but the assassin’s too big. As the rumble grows louder it reminds me of a thunderstorm creeping up to our door. I can only hope that whoever is chasing us, is on my side.
The Silent Watcher jerks the horse to the right, sending us into dense trees. Small branches smack across my face, leaving cuts on my skin. The forest floor has patches of rocky terrain and the assassin maneuvers around them. One wrong move could be deadly.