by Cayla Kluver
When my bodyguard and I reached the top of the Grand Staircase, I saw that upward of thirty men were gathered in the Grand Entry Hall, some wearing the uniform of the Elite Guards, others that of the Palace Guards. Steldor was standing near the eastern wall, arms crossed in a tense posture, with Galen at his side.
As I descended the stairs, Cannan emerged from the antechamber, followed closely by London. To my surprise, my father came next, frown in place and hands in motion to accentuate his displeasure. I did not shy away when he shook his head at sight of my clothing, for I was not about to let his potential judgments dispirit me.
Cannan acknowledged me with a short nod, and London came forward to speak with me. My father’s frown intensified as he examined me further, then he scurried after the captain, who had left him behind to talk with Halias and some of the other men.
“You’re just in time,” London said, with a nod of acknowledgment to Destari. “We’ll be moving out shortly.” He smirked, then added, “I was about to send a servant to wake you.”
Looking at the many soldiers milling in the hall, I asked what I had already deduced.
“They’re all coming with us?”
“And cavalry troops, as well. If the negotiations turn sour, we don’t want to be outnumbered.”
For the first time, I fully appreciated the danger into which I would be walking, and tingles ran up and down my arms. Although I was frightened, I was also exhilarated about being involved in a political and military matter, for these were the things generally thought the province of men.
Cannan was drawing near, and Destari moved to his side. Halias had called the other soldiers to attention and was now directing them out the palace doors and down the long courtyard path.
“We are ready to depart, Your Highness,” the captain informed me, and I understood that formalities would be strictly observed this day. He and his deputy captains then began to escort me to the double doors, forming a triangle around me. As we passed Steldor and Galen, Cannan, who was nearest to them, clapped his son on the shoulder. Steldor nonetheless kept his gaze trained on me. I was just about to step over the threshold when he called my name.
“Alera, wait.” He walked to me, then reached up and removed my crown. “Not this time,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “No need to mark you more visibly as a target. I’ll keep it for you until you return.”
I nodded appreciatively, then proceeded out the door with my escorts. My lungs were burning with the unexpectedly crisp morning air by the time we neared the gates where fifty mounted cavalry soldiers, in well-ordered ranks, waited for us. Halias and his troops stood by with their mounts, as groomsmen, horses in hand, stepped forward to meet me and the three military commanders who would stay by my side throughout the day.
A horse had been specially prepared for my use with an intricate leather saddle befitting a queen over a rich blanket in Hytanica’s colors of royal blue and gold. The horse itself was larger than any I had ridden before but stood quietly enough in the hands of its groom. I employed a little more bounce than usual to boost myself into the saddle, for many eyes were upon me and I did not want to appear even remotely inept.
Once everyone was mounted, we began our procession through the city, attracting many spectators, who lined up on either side of the wide thoroughfare to send us on our way. I rode toward the front, following Cannan and London, with Destari, Halias and other high-ranking Elite Guards protecting my back.
We passed through the city gates in grim silence, then picked up speed, and again I felt many of the men watching me as though waiting for me to tumble to the ground. I gripped the reins tighter, determined not to falter, yet having a superstitious feeling that the mere thought in their minds would cause it to happen. It wasn’t long after we departed the city that Halias and the troops under his command broke off, heading to the east, and I knew they would have some part to play in a rescue attempt if Miranna were indeed brought to the meeting.
For nearly two hours we rode south toward the river at a steady pace, my cloak pulled close to ward off the cold. When the bridge at last came into view, my heart began to hammer from more than the mere exertion of traveling. The Cokyrians surveyed us from the opposite bank, perhaps one hundred yards back from the river. We came to a halt, and the rustling of trees in the wind increased my sense of foreboding, raising the specter of lurking danger. I squinted through the autumn sunlight, already trying to make out my sister among the enemy troops, who were just slightly less in number than were we.
Both contingents sized up their adversary across the significant expanse of the Recorah River, while Cannan deployed archers along our bank. The captain then motioned for us to advance, and we rode our horses slowly across the narrow bridge.
We halted opposite the wall of black-clothed Cokyrians, more of our troops fanning out behind us, and the man and woman at the forefront of the enemy rode forward with an accompaniment of ten guards. I recognized the High Priestess at once by her flaming hair, but the man was not immediately familiar to me, and my first horrible thought was that the Overlord had come with his sister. But the closer the small group came, the clearer became his face, and my heart began to beat as loudly as a drum. Narian was here after all.
The Cokyrians dismounted about halfway between their troops and ours, then one of the High Priestess’s guards stepped forward to hail us.
“We come forward unarmed to talk peacefully with the Queen of Hytanica. Do us the honor of the same.”
In the margins of my vision, I caught the glints of sunlight that reflected from Cannan’s and London’s swords, although in truth I was paying little attention to my companions anymore. We dismounted, along with the dozen guards who would accompany us to meet the enemy. Without a word passing among them, each man in our negotiating group handed his weapons to a counterpart on horseback. I glanced quizzically at London, aware that he had not relinquished the dagger he kept hidden in his boot, and I both marveled at and was grateful for his lack of faith in our foe. Then we all walked forward until about forty feet separated us from the Cokyrians.
The enemy’s negotiators, four in number, including the High Priestess and Narian, broke from the group and came forward several paces, their red-lined black cloaks billowing behind them in the gusty wind. Cannan, London, Destari and I likewise advanced. As I neared the man whose features I had spent hours studying, through whose thick hair I had run my fingers, whom I had kissed more times than I could count, I was awestruck at how much he had changed in just six months. He had grown and filled out remarkably. He was no longer a boy, and his height and build were a close match for my husband’s. I wondered what rigorous training he had undergone in the past half year to bring about such a dramatic transformation. Beneath it all, however, his piercing steel-blue eyes were the same. I searched for compassion in them to reflect the warm tones of his golden hair, but the love I had grown accustomed to seeing was absent, replaced by the cold guardedness reminiscent of our first encounters.
Narian’s presence, although I had anticipated it, affected me profoundly, and I could not pull my eyes from him. I wondered if my tangled emotions were visible on my face, the near irrepressible urge to run to him coupled with the bitter knowledge that, as London had said, he was now the enemy, a notion fortified by the fact that he stood across from me, shoulder to shoulder with the people who had abducted my sister.
Seeing Narian among the Cokyrians made plausible Cannan’s excruciating conclusion that he had been the one to reveal the existence of the tunnel. Devastating confusion besieged me. Could I love Narian when logic screamed that I should hate him? Could I hate him when even now I frantically searched for a way to prove his innocence in all of this? I forced my thoughts to return to the most important matter—my sister.
“Have you brought Princess Miranna?” London asked as we stopped twenty feet from the Cokyrians. I noticed that, even though she had requested me, the High Priestess’s green eyes were locked upon my former bodyg
uard, her former prisoner.
With a flick of her hand, Nantilam brought one of her guards to her side.
“I am not a fool,” Nantilam proclaimed, keeping her steady, accusatory gaze on London. “If you would reclaim your princess, she waits for you in Cokyri. But I have brought proof of her well-being.”
The weightiness of dashed hope pushed down on me, for there would be no rescue this day. I struggled to maintain my composure, the High Priestess’s promise of evidence the only thing preventing my collapse, while the intensity of Narian’s eyes upon me joined in the effort to defeat me.
“What proof?” London demanded, and I could tell by the tautness in the postures of every Hytanican around me that even this early, the meeting was not going in our favor.
“My lieutenant bears a letter from Princess Miranna to your Queen. The princess was instructed to let her sister know how she fares. I assure you the letter is written by her hand, and it contains details that will show it was written yesterday.”
Nantilam’s lieutenant took a few steps toward us, carrying a small scroll of parchment. There was silence as London stared distrustfully at the High Priestess, who waited expectantly for a Hytanican to likewise come forward.
“I admire your caution,” Nantilam stated, when none among us made a move. “All of you. But you will remain in the dark until you see what this parchment contains. If you are not to be the one who claims it, London, perhaps your friend will be.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Destari, who stood near London, before they shifted to Cannan. “Or maybe your captain?” At last, she focused on me. “Perchance your Queen will come forward, if cowardice is all you men can muster.”
The tension following her challenge was intolerable, for I was the only person in the Hytanican party who had not been dealt an insult. Cannan and London, however, appeared impervious to her slight, for which I was thankful, and a glance between them resolved the issue.
Cannan stepped ahead, as Destari was assigned to me, and London, like the High Priestess, was fulfilling the role of negotiator. Every one of the captain’s strides seemed to take longer than it should have, and stories of the enemy’s cunning whirled through my mind, raising the specter that all was not as it seemed. But Cannan would not walk defenseless into an unstable situation—unless he had determined there was no other option. I examined the Cokyrians’ faces, wondering if behind those inscrutable expressions there was deceit, trying to convince myself there was not. But when I came to Narian and thought of the tenderness and compassion I had discovered beneath his cold and detached manner, I knew this enemy could disguise anything.
The captain stopped about ten feet in front of us, waiting for the enemy soldier to close the gap. When she neared, he stretched out his hand to accept the scroll.
“Cannan, move!” London shouted, and the captain immediately stepped back, looking at him in alarm.
The Elite Guard leapt forward and hurled the dagger from his boot at the High Priestess’s lieutenant. The dagger struck the hollow of her throat, and blood sprayed across Cannan’s jerkin and face. She gasped, gurgled and clawed vainly at her neck before hunching forward and collapsing against him. Then something thudded to the ground at his feet—a dagger, brought for an assassination.
Cannan thrust the dying lieutenant away from him as all hell broke loose. Destari, who was already at my side, dragged me away, everything happening so quickly that I didn’t even have time to feel afraid. The Cokyrians charged, extracting weapons that had been concealed in every fold of clothing, and London and several others ran to meet them, though all the Hytanicans were presumably unarmed. Just before Destari shoved me in the direction of the horses, I saw Cannan pull a dagger from a sheath strapped to his forearm, and I could only assume the others had likewise kept weapons.
Destari literally threw me onto his horse then jumped up behind, shouting for guards to come to the aid of the Queen. I glanced back toward the fray and saw Cannan break free along with several others, returning to their mounts with haste. Our men rode for the bridge while arrows from our archers rained down on the enemy. The High Priestess and Narian retreated behind shields while I searched frantically for London, one of the few missing. I knew from Destari’s hesitation that he was doing the same.
“Destari!” Cannan bellowed in reminder to the deputy captain.
Just as my bodyguard made the decision to flee, the knot of Cokyrians unraveled, and we could see enemy soldiers gripping a struggling London, dragging him back, ultimately, to the Overlord’s empire. With an arm wrapped tightly about my waist, Destari gave our horse one swift kick, and we rode at a gallop in the opposite direction.
I stumbled through the palace doors, hair and clothing in disarray, much to the shock of the guards stationed in the Grand Entry Hall, with Destari not far behind. Others in our party followed, talking frenetically to one another, trying to determine exactly what had happened and what should now be done.
Just as Steldor, Galen and several of the King’s guards burst from the antechamber, lured by the commotion, Cannan pushed his way to the front of the troops, and his bloodied clothing drew the startled eyes of those who had stayed behind. Before Steldor could speak, Destari stepped up to confront his captain, his black eyes strangely crazed.
“We left London,” he growled. “We let the Cokyrians take him, after he saved your life!”
“What happened?” Steldor interjected, coming to his father’s side.
“It was not my intention to lose London—” Cannan vehemently returned.
“Then why didn’t you send men back for him?” Destari shouted.
Steldor frowned, frustrated at being in the dark. “Would somebody just tell me what—?”
“The Cokyrians attempted to assassinate the captain,” Destari informed the King, then he began to pace in a manner not in keeping with his character.
“I retrieved the scroll,” Cannan stated, ignoring Steldor’s pallid complexion and bringing Destari to a standstill. I took a step forward, my mind shutting out the hum of conversation in the hall, as he took the parchment from the inside pocket of his military jerkin.
“Open it,” Destari prompted, earning a scowl from Cannan.
Though Steldor was confused, he did not speak as his father untied the leather band the enemy had fastened around the scroll and unrolled it. Without a word, the captain crushed the parchment in his hand.
“What?” Steldor demanded while Destari grimaced in understanding.
“Blank,” Cannan said simply, and the chatter of those who had been listening increased dramatically in volume as everyone began to argue and debate, frustration pulsing beneath the surface of each word.
The temperature of the crowded hall soared, and removing my cloak did nothing to alleviate the problem. In addition, my body and mind longed for silence so that I could rethink what had happened. The negotiation meeting had been nothing more than a ploy to allow for the attempt on Cannan’s life, or perhaps on others among us as well, and possibly the recapture of London, the two military men most vital to our defense. The kidnapping itself might have been part of that ploy. It was entirely possible my sister had been killed the day she was snatched from us, since she had played no role in the Cokyrians’ scheme save that of bait.
Suddenly overwhelmed by the heat, the noise and the smell of sweat and blood, I broke from the furor and hurried up the Grand Staircase, to no one’s notice. I ran down the corridors to my quarters in a wholly unladylike manner, trying to hold back tears, for I did not want to deteriorate into a weeping mess until I had reached the safety of my bedroom.
I never quite made it to my sanctuary. After sending the parlor door flying open, I stumbled to the center of the room and sank to my knees on the woolen tapestry that covered the floor, tears dropping on my hands as I began to sob. I had thought this meeting would bring my sister home, I had thought I would see her and draw her to me, warm and very much alive. Instead my whole body was quivering, for it seemed ever more likely that she
was gone from me forever.
While I struggled to check my emotions, I heard the creak of the door closing and knew I was no longer alone. Thinking that Destari, or perhaps even Steldor, had come to check on me, I took a shuddering breath, then rose slowly to my feet and turned around. I froze as I took in the face of the man who stood before me for, although I had long dreamt of being with him, I could not help but be afraid.
“Alera,” he said, taking a step toward me. Although he had been dressed all in black at the negotiation, he now wore the royal-blue tunic of the Palace Guards, and I wondered from whom he had taken it and in what condition he had left the man.
I backed away without conscious thought, knowing that if he continued to come toward me, I would not be able to run, would not be able to scream, for I was finding it difficult to breathe. He stopped, and his mesmerizing blue eyes somehow steadied me.
“You can listen to me, or you can call for your guards,” he stated calmly. “It is your decision.”
“Narian,” I whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t have much time. Someone will soon look for you. But we need to talk.”
“Now?” I said, struggling to focus, hastily wiping the evidence that I had been crying from my face.
“No. Tomorrow night, at Koranis’s country estate. Come alone.”
I stared at him, no longer certain who he was, excruciatingly aware he had aligned himself with the enemy.
“Trust me once more, just as I trust you. Please, Alera.” His eyes captured mine, and there was only one answer I could give.
“I’ll come,” I promised, not knowing how I would accomplish this, only that I must.
Without shifting his gaze, he approached, pushing up his left shirtsleeve to reveal a dagger strapped to his forearm. I did not give ground, perhaps foolishly, for I recalled all too well the weapons he carried on his person. He stopped before me and unstrapped the sheath.