Allegiance

by Cayla Kluver

  Steldor would come and go, but I knew from snippets of conversation he had with Destari that my self-imposed isolation bothered him. He was, however, somewhat placated by the fact that my bodyguard kept company with me in the parlor rather than standing guard in the corridor.

  One week after Miranna’s abduction, in the afternoon, my mother came to see me. The dark circles beneath her blue eyes gave me reason to think she had not slept since this ordeal had begun, and I wondered if I showed signs of the same fatigue. I had not given my appearance much thought over the past few days, and apprehension and grief seemed to have taken over as my only emotions. She sat next to me on the sofa, smiling slightly at the kitten gamboling at her feet, and then took my hands in hers.

  “How are you doing, my dear?” she asked, her voice bleaker than was customary.

  “I’m trying, Mother. Steldor is doing what he can to help me.” I motioned to the kitten, then added, “He doesn’t want me to be alone.”

  She nodded, but I knew the worry on her face was for me. The thought that I was causing her additional distress was almost more than I could stand, and I scrambled to find words of reassurance. But before I could think what to say, she spoke once more.

  “I’m going to make a request of you, Alera, one that will be difficult for you to undertake, but that is important for you to attempt.”

  “Yes, Mother, anything.”

  “Until and unless we learn, God forbid, that your sister is dead, we must act as though she is alive. We must not give in to despair, and even when we do, we must not let it show in our actions. Our guards and military leaders must know they have our confidence, and the people of the kingdom must believe that we are strong.”

  Her tired eyes had a spark of determination in them, and I could feel an unexpected fortitude within her.

  “Alera, I am asking you to resume your normal routines, to carry out your duties. I am asking you to try to live a normal life.”

  “I have not given up hope,” I assured her, then softly added, “but I do not know if I can do what you ask.”

  She gazed out the window for a long moment, as if trying to decide how to convince me that I was capable of ac complishing the impossible. Finally, she returned her attention to me, her eyes melancholy.

  “I have been through trying times before. That does not make these circumstances easier to bear, but it does make them easier to survive. You have long known that my family was killed during a Cokyrian raid when I was a young woman and that I came to live in the palace until the time came for me to wed the King’s son. While I lived here, awaiting the wedding, I fell passionately and irrevocably in love with him. What you may not know is that I was betrothed to the Crown Prince, Andrius, and not to your father.”

  I sat mutely beside her, my heart rate increasing, both shocked and intrigued by the information she was sharing. I had always known that my father had ascended to the throne upon the death of his older brother, but I had never considered how my mother had come to be his wife. Had she, like me, suffered the loss of the man she loved, only to marry another out of duty? The thought of the tragedies she had endured was enough to overwhelm me; yet the strength she was showing was awe-inspiring, and I waited to hear more.

  “You never knew your uncle, but he was much like Cannan,” she added with a fleeting smile, and I thought a glimmer of longing crossed her face. “Only with a more ready sense of humor.”

  She reached out to brush a lock of hair off my forehead, perhaps reading some of my reactions in my expression.

  “But we were at war, and all the young men went off to fight. Andrius convinced the King to let him join the effort. He lost his life, and I wanted to die, as well. But I gradually recovered and was betrothed to your father, for I had, after all, been raised to be a queen.”

  My thoughts flew in another direction. Andrius had been raised his entire life believing he would be king; my father would have known it only upon his brother’s death. He would have been like Miranna, who as a second-born was more carefree, having been raised with fewer expectations. While he had proven himself to be a good king, I wondered, would Andrius have been a great king? Although I was now almost bursting with questions, I forced myself to listen, knowing there was a reason my mother was sharing her history with me.

  “I tell you this because tragedy comes to everyone at some time. What separates people is how they handle it. You remind me of Andrius—that’s why I know what strength lies within you. What I am asking of you will be grueling, but you are Hytanica’s Queen. The people look to you for faith and courage, the same as they look to the King. And each time you show it, whether you truly feel it or not, will make the next time a little easier.”

  I examined my beautiful mother, appreciating for the first time that much of her grace had been born out of tragedy. My father’s tendency toward paranoia was in contrast to her calm, and I gathered my pride, wondering how truly I resembled the first man she had loved.

  “I will try,” I promised, and she took me in her arms, clasping me close just as she used to when I was young, letting some of her determination flow into me.

  CHAPTER 11

  BROTHERS IN ARMS

  INTERRUPTED BY A KNOCK ON MY PARLOR door, I glanced up at Destari from where I was sitting on the sofa, waggling a ribbon in front of my kitten. Having coaxed myself into making several appearances with Steldor in the few days since my mother’s visit, I had returned to my quarters to rest and was not expecting any guests. In response to my nod, my bodyguard pulled the door open, granting entrance to a sergeant in the Elite Guard.

  “Your Majesty, I’ve come to replace Destari as your bodyguard for the time being,” he said with a bow. “The captain needs to speak with him and did not want you to be left unprotected.”

  I sprang up, my anxiety level vaulting at the mere suggestion of Destari’s departure. I examined the man Cannan had sent as a substitute for the guard so tall and well-muscled that he made me appear child-sized. After taking in the sergeant’s lean stature, his height just a couple of inches beyond my own, and his youthful appearance, I knew I could not feel safe with him. I needed Destari, whom I trusted, whom I had grown up trusting, whose skill and ability were unquestionable.

  Destari took note of my expression and spoke up on my behalf.

  “The Queen and I would both prefer if I stayed here. Did the captain say why I’m needed?”

  The sergeant’s eyes darted toward me, uncertain to what extent he should speak candidly in my presence. Then he pulled Destari aside.

  “The scouts found a horse,” he confided in a hushed, but nonetheless flawlessly audible, voice.

  “A horse?” Destari repeated uneasily, and I frowned, unable to fathom the significance of this information.

  “One of ours, riderless, roaming the countryside. Caked in blood.”

  “Could they identify it?”

  At the sergeant’s grim nod, Destari’s heavy black eyebrows fell as though he had learned the worst.

  “Whose horse was it?” I demanded, besieged with dread.

  The guard glanced between Destari and me, wondering if he should answer, but my bodyguard was too lost in thought to pay him mind.

  “London’s,” the sergeant answered, not bold enough to ignore his Queen.

  My stomach roiled, and I fought back the urge to vomit. My knees threatened to give out and Destari put a steadying arm around me, but I pushed against him, knowing he would leave me if he could.

  “I’m going with you to Cannan,” I choked.

  Destari gave a brisk nod, and we left my quarters to descend the spiral stairway to the first floor, the sergeant following. Entering the Throne Room through the King’s Drawing Room, we saw Galen, Casimir, Cargon and several other Elite Guards grouped near the dais, talking rapidly among themselves. Steldor occupied the throne, looking weary, while Cannan stood beside him.

  Surprise flicked across the King’s face as he saw that I was with Destari. Though the other men fr
owned at my presence, they resumed their discussion until Steldor held up a hand to stay their talk.

  “Alera, I know you are concerned about London, but these are military matters. I can either have someone escort you to your drawing room or you can wait for me in my study.”

  I examined him, hardly believing my ears, for I had expected that he might force me to leave. Instead he was giving me the opportunity to eavesdrop. As our brown eyes met, I knew that this had been his purpose.

  “I will go to your study, Your Highness,” I said with a curtsey.

  I moved to the right of the dais and into the King’s study, leaving the door half-open so I would be able to hear every word that was spoken. I dragged one of the padded armchairs away from the fireplace and settled in to listen.

  “We have to assume from the amount of blood staining the animal that London was bleeding profusely as he rode toward Hytanica.” Cannan’s full voice carried into the study. “It’s likely that he fell from his mount on our land, for the horse had almost made its way to the city. Cargon’s men have since scoured the area where the animal was found, but they saw no sign of London. The question before us now is whether or not to send out a search party.” The captain paused before resuming his analysis. “Frankly, it is probable that London is dead.”

  Cannan’s words felt like a kick in the stomach, but I forced myself to continue listening.

  “He must have been seriously injured, and it is impossible to say when his wounds were inflicted, for we do not know how long his horse wandered. Dispatching a search party might needlessly put the lives of our men in danger.”

  It was Steldor who reacted first to Cannan’s assessment of the situation.

  “But if London is alive, his information could be vital in dealing with Miranna’s abduction or in defending against a Cokyrian onslaught.”

  “A search on our side of the Recorah could be done with little danger to our soldiers,” Galen pointed out.

  “True,” said a man whose voice I did not recognize. “But if he is not found on our lands, is it wise to send men into Cokyrian-held territory?”

  “That would put them at significant risk, and I’m against doing so when there is such a small chance that London is alive,” Galen answered.

  “It seems we should at least search the lands on our side of the Recorah,” Steldor determined, closing one issue. He paused, then seemed to address an individual. “You have not yet voiced an opinion on the matter of searching on the other side of the Recorah.”

  “That is because I will search for him there, regardless of whatever decision is made,” Destari said, displaying the unreserved loyalty he’d always had for his best friend and comrade. “I don’t ask that you send anyone with me, but I must go, simply because nothing would keep London from looking for me were our circumstances reversed.”

  “I suspect there are others who would willingly accompany Destari,” Cannan noted. “Is there anyone here who would choose to do so?”

  A chorus of voices arose, prompting Steldor to again close the discussion.

  “We have our resolution then. I will not order men to cross the Recorah to search for London but will not prevent a small number of volunteers from doing so.”

  “I would require only one or two men,” Destari declared. “The smaller our number, the better our odds of passing unnoticed into enemy territory.”

  “Then let me go,” Galen said unexpectedly, and I imagined that in the silence all eyes had shifted to the Sergeant at Arms. Indeed, when next Galen spoke, he sounded defensive. “I have the training necessary for this assignment, I am young enough to believe we will be successful and, if the plan is indeed for me to become Captain of the Guard someday, I ultimately cannot expect men to follow me as they do Cannan unless I have some frontline experience.”

  “Then it’s decided,” Steldor decreed, taking the side of the friend whom he had always viewed as a brother.

  Cannan left it to Destari to organize and deploy a search party for the Hytanican side of the river. If London were not found, the men would return, and only Destari and Galen would venture into Cokyrian lands to continue the effort.

  The discussion having ended, I returned my armchair to its original location just as Steldor pushed the study door fully open.

  “I assume you heard,” he said, stepping across the threshold.

  “Yes.”

  He seemed exhausted, even though he’d lately been returning to our quarters at a reasonable time to talk with me and then go to bed. I supposed that, though I had been sleeping an excessive amount of late, his workload had dramatically increased, and a measure of guilt to add to all the rest swelled within me.

  “We probably won’t hear anything for a few days. You’ll be given a new bodyguard, or three, or however many you want. Whatever you need to feel safe in Destari’s absence—”

  “I want a weapon.”

  This escaped me without real thought, but as I pictured the slim guard who had been sent to replace Destari and thought of the incident a year ago with Narian at the river, when Tadark had been too far away to prevent him from cutting off the bottom of my skirt, I knew that this was the only way I could feel secure. Bodyguards were effective only to a certain extent. Had Halias gone with Miranna to the chapel but waited in the corridor, she still would have been alone to protect herself. If someone near me drew a dagger with the intent to harm me, I would need to be able to do more than scream.

  “A weapon?” Steldor repeated, eyebrows high, a bit of the condescension that had of late been so delightfully missing from his manner creeping into his words. “Really, Alera, I know you’re frightened, but you’ll either end up causing yourself harm or having the weapon turned on you. You don’t know how to handle…”

  He trailed off, and I cast my eyes to the floor. I knew his mind had gone to my short-lived self-defense lessons with Narian, which he had somehow discovered. I was by no means well learned in the art, but I did know the proper way to handle a weapon, which should have negated Steldor’s main reason for objection. Even so, anything to do with Narian was a touchy subject, and I wasn’t sure what to expect from him now.

  “You should continue with your day,” he said, his voice carefully controlled.

  I left the room without further comment, grateful to have escaped unscathed, to be joined by two Elite Guards who had apparently been assigned to me by Steldor. I departed the Throne Room, leaving Casimir to await the King.

  Over the next few days, my hope and whatever happiness I’d managed to reclaim decayed. I longed for the sound of my sister’s voice, the flash of her smile, the sight of her strawberry blond curls bouncing upon her back; but now thoughts of London, who, if alive, was alone and grievously injured in the wilderness, also haunted me. On top of it all, fear clung to me like a second skin, always with me, as were the two bodyguards who every moment failed to make me feel safe.

  By this time, Cannan had granted Destari and Galen permission to cross the river into Cokyrian lands to search for London. With the likelihood of locating him continuing to lessen, my constant worry shifted into premature mourning. London had risked and evaded death many times, but his luck could not last forever. Perhaps he’d been given all the chances fate was willing to allow. I struggled to accept the fact that he might never be found, might never be buried by those who loved him, the tale of his demise never to be known.

  In my present frame of mind, I yearned for Steldor’s company in the evenings, as I felt protected when I was with him. He was, however, steadily growing more irritable, worry and the pressures of his position taking their toll. Even though I understood this, I couldn’t prevent a small flare of indignation every time he lost his patience with me for no apparent reason, especially when it came to Kitten, with whom he had one recurring problem.

  “Will you just give it a name?” he said in exasperation one night as he hung his weapons on the hook by the hearth.

  “What’s wrong with calling a kitten Kitten?�
� I demanded from where I sat on the floor, playing with the cuddly fluff ball.

  “It’s emasculating, that’s what,” Steldor informed me, moving to the sofa where he rested his booted feet, ankles crossed, on the low table. “The cat needs a name, before he becomes a milksop.”

  “I don’t think Kitten cares about being a milksop, since he literally is one,” I pointed out, scooping the little animal into my lap. “Why does this upset you so much?”

  “I’m not upset,” he snapped, running a hand through his dark hair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he stood and, despite the fact that he had just returned to our quarters, retrieved his weapons.

  “I need to go,” he said, without looking at me. “I need to work off some energy.”

  I nodded, and he went to the door, intending to leave, but when he opened it and saw Casimir waiting for him in the corridor, he growled in aggravation and slammed it shut. He withdrew instead to his bedroom, closing that door with the same brutality.

  “Someone’s testy,” I muttered under my breath, but a measure of concern for Steldor’s state of mind had taken hold.

  Two nights later, I was drawn awake from the strange dreams that had become my nighttime companions by a muted yet repetitive pounding. I rose from bed, slipping on my robe, and opened my door to see Steldor talking with an Elite Guard, his bare chest telling me he had also been roused from sleep. The guard departed, and Steldor spun on his heel, catching sight of me.

  “Destari and Galen have returned,” he said as he crossed to enter his room, reappearing a moment later fully clothed.

  “Is London with them?” I asked, my heart hammering.

  “Yes, although I do not know his condition.”

  “But he’s alive?”

  Steldor nodded, strapping on his weapon’s belt, and instantaneous relief warmed me like sweet tea.