by Cayla Kluver
“I have to divide my power between London and him,” Nantilam told me, pulling a chair next to Narian’s bed. She sat down, then pressed two fingers against his throat, checking for a pulse.
“He’s still alive,” she murmured, and the relief in her voice was plain. I didn’t know the nature of her relationship to Narian, but it was obvious she had affection for him.
Without another word, she placed her hands, one over the other, on Narian’s chest and recommenced what she had barely begun in the clearing. After fifteen minutes, she forced herself from his side, even though he showed no apparent improvement.
She and I walked down the corridor to enter the room in which Cannan guarded his near lifeless deputy captain. Just as she had in Narian’s room, she pulled a chair to the injured man’s bedside, then laid her healing hands upon him. Cannan did not speak but hovered nearby. His manner reminded me of the attitude he had adopted when Steldor had almost succumbed to his horrendous wound and bespoke of the tremendous respect he had for the Elite Guard who had risked everything to defend the kingdom and the people he loved.
I took up residence in a room on the third floor, but Cannan chose to bed down with blankets on the floor in London’s room. Having endured many hours and days of torture under the Overlord’s hand, London was struggling more than Narian, and his recovery was far from certain. Despite the High Priestess’s assurances that we would be safe, we did not venture into other areas of the palace, not seeing any reason to jeopardize our necks among the enemy.
The High Priestess posted guards outside the doors of the men she was working to heal and sent servants to see to their other physical needs. She also sent members of her guard to transport her brother’s body back to Cokyri, offering no explanation to her troops as to the cause of his death. I doubted the true story would ever be told, and that he would be glorified as the man who had conquered Hytanica. Neither Cannan nor I knew what the future might bring now that Nantilam was the sole ruler of Cokyri, but we had little choice other than to trust her. We had put our lives in her hands the moment we had decided to come here with London.
During the following days, Nantilam and I went back and forth between the rooms, checking on the two men for whom we both felt affection. Cokyrian servants had bathed them and replaced their grimy clothing with clean nightshirts, and they lay lightly covered on fresh bed linens, at times looking almost angelic, at other times writhing in agony. London, in particular, suffered greatly, and my thoughts kept returning to the information my mother had shared about how ill he had been eighteen years ago after surviving similar torture. As always, his will to live was impressive, but I feared this time willpower alone would not be enough. It was heartrending for me to see the two men I cared about the most in such torment. I longed to see a tease in the indigo eyes I knew so well, and a flicker of love in those of steel-blue that had captured my heart.
Narian began to stir first, his pain easing and his sleep becoming more peaceful. London, however, showed no signs of coming to consciousness. It was as though he were trapped beneath ice, his still-beating heart pounding in vain against the unyielding surface.
Cannan was becoming edgier, worried about those we had left behind in the cave, as well as the Hytanican people who had been evacuated almost a week ago. He told me in subtler terms that he wished to leave, afraid the enemy would cease to be so hospitable, but would not go without me. Nor did he want to depart without London. The High Priestess was certainly also aware of his thoughts, but it was to me that she spoke. I was in Narian’s room with her at the time she put forth her proposal.
“Hytanican Queen,” she said to me unexpectedly as she lifted her hands from Narian’s chest, repositioning his arm upon the bed. “I have given much thought as to how to govern this kingdom and would propose an agreement with you, an accord. Hytanica is Cokyrian territory now. The vengeance we sought on behalf of my mother has been taken, and we have what we have long desired—access to the riches of your land. But I cannot oversee this province from the mountains.”
I waited, pulse racing, for her to elaborate.
“I would permit your people to return here, to their homeland, without threat of enslavement. Persecution of your people was my brother’s ambition, not mine. My interest has always been in your land and not in your citizens. These are the options I see—I can place a Cokyrian in command here to govern and oversee the division of yearly produce between your people and mine, or I can give your people a ruler they know and trust.”
“Me?” I choked as I grasped her meaning.
She nodded. “Thoughts of rebellion will be inevitable from the moment your citizens reinhabit this land. You, they will be inclined to follow. Cokyri will, of course, maintain a presence in Hytanica, but I believe that with one of their own as the leader of this province, they will more readily accept this change.”
“They will not follow me,” I insisted, not eager to consider myself in such a position. “Steldor is the King.”
“Steldor is not the King,” she informed me without a beat of hesitation. “I will leave this place with a woman in charge. If you refuse, I will put one of my own commanders in power, someone who will flatten your revolts with ease and run Hytanica with a firm hand. It is a matter of how you would like your people to come to terms with their circumstances.”
While I knew my kingdom was now hers, the proposal she was making as to how it should be governed was new and surprising, and I could not fathom it. A woman in a position of authority in Hytanica would not be happily accepted, but Hytanica would not be permitted its King or any male ruler.
“Is there no one else?” I asked, feeling ill-equipped to undertake this task.
“I do not make this offer lightly. It is you whom I have tested. It is you who have proven yourself equal to the task. I thus put the choice of ruler to you—yourself or a Cokyrian emissary.”
“I—I need time to think,” I stammered, even though I already knew what answer I would give. I had to do what would be best for my people, despite how much it scared me.
The High Priestess stood and left the room to check on London, and I took her seat next to the bed, resting my head in my hands, trying to understand how we had come to this point.
“Alera?”
My thoughts were interrupted by a strained, but familiar, voice. I lifted my head at once to see Narian staring at me, obviously uncertain if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“I’m here,” I said, reaching out to brush back the thick golden hair from his forehead, my throat tight. Even though I was overjoyed to see him awake, everything that had occurred, and the responsibility that was being thrust upon me, had left me on the verge of tears.
“What happened?” he asked, and I recalled how much he had missed. “Where is the Overlord? Where…are we?”
“We’re in the Palace of Hytanica,” I said, answering the easy question first. “The High Priestess brought us here after she…” I took a breath, wondering how much information he could handle, then went on regardless. “After you stabbed him, the Overlord called for his sister to heal him, but she…instead, she took his life.”
He seemed to lose focus as he struggled to grasp what I had said, and I feared he was once more fading away.
“Narian,” I urgently said, wishing I hadn’t overwhelmed him, but this time when I reached out to touch his hair, he took my hand, entwining his fingers with mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes half-closed, voice anguished. “I’m so sorry, Alera. I would not blame you if you hated me, after everything I’ve done.”
“Let me tell you what you’ve done,” I said, fighting to subdue the quaver in my voice. “You saved my sister. You did what you could to protect my people. You freed London from the High Priestess’s temple. You saved my life. You defied the Overlord, in the end. Those are the things you’ve done.”
“You give me too much credit,” he said with a weak laugh, intense blue eyes capturing me. “There are thin
gs I should have done, should have prevented, and didn’t.”
I couldn’t respond, could no longer see him through the tears clouding my vision, for he was feeling another type of pain—pain of a sort even the High Priestess could not lessen. But when I at last blinked my tears away, he had slipped from me once more.
I signed the High Priestess’s accord the following day. It had been drafted by a high-ranking Cokyrian officer at Nantilam’s dictation, and both Cannan and I read it carefully, knowing the moment I put my name on the parchment, Hytanica would be in my hands. Then I scrawled my signature across the bottom.
The captain returned to the cave, for the rest of our party of refugees had been in the dark for long enough and it was now safe for them to come out of hiding. As I waited for their return, I walked into the Throne Room for the first time since I had come back to the palace, wanting to see the damage before anyone else did. I advanced to the middle of the hall, then sank to the floor, needing to grieve what we had lost before I could embrace the future.
The Cokyrians had dragged the thrones to the floor, removing most of the jewels that had been mounted into the wood. My family’s coat of arms lay broken against the stone, having been pulled from the wall behind the dais. The banners that had hung upon the wall had been burned. But most wrenching of all, the portraits of the Kings that had lined the sides of this mighty hall had been damaged, some beyond recognition.
This was Hytanica’s history, my history, so treasured by us and treated so lightly by the enemy. Could I repair the hearts and minds of my people? Could we ever live contentedly under Cokyrian rule? I knew that the terms the High Priestess had imposed permitted a far better outcome than we had the right to expect, for it granted us some autonomy, but still it would be challenging for those who had lost so much to see it as a positive step.
I did not hear Cannan come through the doorway, but he drew my attention by clearing his throat.
“Everyone is here, Alera. They’re all waiting for you in the Meeting Hall.”
I stood and walked toward him, and he gave me a slight bow as I drew near.
“Things can be restored,” he said, eyes flicking around the room. “I will never forget the Overlord’s brutality, can never forget it. I will live with its reminders for the rest of my days. But still I appreciate the chance the High Priestess has given us, and I believe you have made the right decision. We have lost much, Alera, and we will mourn much, but then we will rebuild. We will do so in honor of those who gave their lives.”
That evening, after we had all dined together on fare provided by the High Priestess, it was Steldor to whom I needed to speak. I was happy to see that most of his energy had returned in the week since I’d last seen him and that there was once more a passion for life within his dark eyes. We walked together to the Queen’s Drawing Room, a place that would afford us privacy and had not been as heavily damaged as the other rooms on the first floor, leaving our friends and family to their rejoicing.
Looking out into the East Courtyard, at the fountain that had miraculously remained intact despite the upturned soil and thousands of rough boot prints that surrounded it, I explained the High Priestess’s contract to him, hoping he would not view me as usurping his power. He stood beside me at the window, listening carefully to my words, but displaying no reaction until several minutes after I had finished.
“I did not return here expecting to be King, Alera,” he at long last said, and while he did not smile, there was no anger in him either.
“You’ll always be a king,” I reminded him, for that was Hytanican tradition. Once a king, always a king.
“Take my word—the crown fits you better than it ever fit me.” At my confused and anxious expression, he went on. “I’m a military man, Alera. I was meant to be the protector, not the protected. I’m happier in that capacity.”
His eyes delved into mine, suddenly tender, and I knew there was more he intended to say.
“Halias told us what happened in the clearing. I am sorry for what you had to bear—by rights, it should have been me. And Narian…while certain things will never be forgotten, I will thank him for what he did, at the end.”
He reached out to twirl a strand of my shortened hair around his finger, an affectionate gesture he had employed many times before, then stopped, looking at his hand.
“I suppose I should give you this,” he mused, removing the royal ring and extending it to me.
“And I have something of yours,” I returned, taking the signet from him and removing the wolf’s head talisman from around my neck.
“I wondered what had happened to it,” he said, bemused. “Thank you.”
He examined the pendant for a moment, then pulled the betrothal band off his left hand, pressing it into my palm. Startled, I tried to speak, but he placed a finger over my lips, halting my words.
“Ours was a marriage of convenience,” he reminded me, although there was sadness in his voice. “It’s not convenient anymore, is it?”
He brushed my cheek, savoring this moment, then turned and walked away.
“But…how?” I stammered, quite bewildered.
He was partway across the room and came about to face me one last time, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“It’s funny, actually. The one line I would not cross in our marriage, the one way in which I always showed you respect, is the key to its undoing. We never shared a bed, we never consummated our union. And consummation is one of the church’s requirements for a valid marriage. I will see to its annulment as soon as the priest returns to the city.”
A flood of emotions welled within me as I studied his handsome face—surprise, relief, elation, regret—and, underneath it all, gratitude. He didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to admit we had not coupled, could even yet take me if he wanted. But instead he was letting me go. He loved me—perhaps this was proof of that beyond all else—and he was letting me go. Before I could say a word, thank him, wish him well, he had disappeared into the corridor, closing the door softly behind him.
CHAPTER 31
THE DUST SETTLES
THE PEOPLE NEEDED TO BE BROUGHT BACK. The very next morning, Cannan and Steldor, as Captain of the Guard and the man the populace thought of as their King, set out on this task. No one had any objection, since they were the only ones who would be able to convince our citizens it was safe, and with Halias now in the palace, Cannan could use him to safeguard London.
During the time they were gone, Cokyrian soldiers, under the command of the High Priestess, began to clear the rubble from the city in preparation for restoring and rebuilding. It was mid-March, and just as spring sunshine worked to rejuvenate our lands after the harshness of winter, hope emerged from the desolation that had gripped everyone’s hearts and minds.
Work had also begun in the palace, and I could see the character of our once beautiful home returning. My father, who had been treating me more deferentially, wanted to be involved, and I gladly offered his assistance to the High Priestess. She, in turn, soon had him working side by side with one of the women in charge of the effort. Seeing the graying, very traditional former King of Hytanica consulting with a young female Cokyrian military officer renewed my faith that the impossible could be achieved.
Temerson was also eager to help as he awaited the return of his family. He had seen his father die at the hands of the Overlord but had reason to believe his mother, Lady Tanda, as well as his brother and sisters, had survived. My father was quite willing to have his assistance, and so Temerson likewise became involved in the work of restoring the palace. The young man, of course, continued to spend many hours with Miranna, who was slowly recovering under the primary care of our mother. The two women seemed to have formed an even more special bond, born out of their experiences at the hands of the Overlord. Having had just one taste of what they had probably gone through, I was glad they could help each other deal with the memories and the aftermath.
It was at this time t
hat I moved back into the quarters I had shared, in what had certainly been a different life, with Steldor. Although the Cokyrians had made their mark on these rooms just as they had with most of the other important areas of the palace, this section had been among the first to be repaired. It felt strange to be back within the living space that had been used by Hytanica’s Kings and Queens for generations, knowing that the monarchy was no more. As with the Throne Room, the walls echoed with memories, and the air was thick with sadness.
The transition back to these rooms would have been much harder to bear had it not been for one thing. To my utter astonishment, I was joined the first evening by a lanky, gray-and-black tabby cat with a white stomach and paws. Although he kept his distance, watching me from across the room, his coloring and curious gray eyes confirmed that it was Kitten. With all the death and destruction, the survival of a cat was perhaps a small thing, but it felt like an extraordinary gift, helping to connect the past and the present. I sat motionless on the sofa for quite some time, deliberately ignoring my visitor, and the animal gradually moved closer. When Kitten jumped on the cushion next to me, I held as still as possible, barely breathing, letting him examine me and remember me. I could not, however, withhold a smile when he stepped onto my knees, finally settling into my lap. After a few minutes, I permitted myself to stroke his soft fur, and his answering purr was enormously comforting. I would not be living alone after all.
It took days, but slowly our citizens returned to their homes, or what was left of them. Galen, who had been sent by Cannan to oversee the evacuation, brought Tiersia back with him, both of them irrepressibly happy to be together. He had also found his mother and twin sisters, and took time resettling the four women back into their family home, upon which little damage had been inflicted. Cannan brought Faramay to live in the palace for the time being, probably concerned that the chaos that still existed in the city would shatter her mind. But it was Steldor who still searched for someone. Unbeknownst to Cannan, his son had been watching for a particular member of their family as they’d ridden the line of people.