She didn’t move as I continued. “If you tell us how to enter the Unaro stronghold and drive him out to face justice, you’ll be doing everyone in the Veil a favor.”
She made that clack-clack noise again. Her laugh. “Do the slaves in Daquer know justice?”
My jaw tightened. Under King Jeffren many of my family members had been enslaved until I had the means to free them.
“All life has value,” she said. “In every kingdom I conquered, the slaves were set free. Every one.” Her mouth didn’t move, but I could’ve sworn she was smirking.
I was ready though. “How much land was given to the aristocrats versus the farmers? Maybe a parcel or two to the original owners?”
Wood ground against wood. Her anger leeched out.
Since talking wasn’t working, I’d have to try other means. This back and forth was getting us nowhere—until I heard a strange noise. Like rocks tumbling in a bag.
“What’s that?” I asked.
She glanced away. “I haven’t eaten anything.”
So she ate food? How? “If you’re hungry, I can give you whatever you want for the information I need.” I regretted my words after I said them, but I had no choice.
“I’m not that hungry.” She trembled and feigned disinterest. Hunger wasn’t something you could hide though. It was a feeling I had known all too well as a child.
I stood and fetched food at once. A small bowl of chicken broth and some bread from the kitchen.
At first, I tried to feed her at the table, but she couldn’t sit up properly. Which meant I had to try other means. I untied the iron chains around her legs. Our gazes locked and an understanding passed between us. Food and a bit of freedom for cooperation.
Once she sat up correctly at the table, she accepted the broth I gave her without spilling a single drop. The only sound in the room was the scrape of the wooden spoon against her mouth. I hadn’t felt such ease in so long. Almost as if I was feeding Elisia. I hid a self-satisfied smile.
Until I pushed a portion of bread into her tiny mouth. She awkwardly tried to chew. Chomp. Chomp. And failed.
“This is so embarrassing.” Bits and pieces rained down on the floor.
“Do you have a name?” I asked as I served her more broth instead, trying to be as casual as possible. Calling her by the name I knew her as would throw both of us off kilter.
She paused as if considering whether she’d answer. “Why do you want to know?”
“Do you prefer prisoner, perhaps?” I shrugged and smiled. “Wooden Bitch…”
I caught a clack-clack. So I made her laugh again.
Finally, she spoke. “It’s…Pynnelope.”
“So she has a name.” I placed the food on the table. “Did your maker give you that name?” There were so many things I wanted to know about her. What had she been doing all this time? Where had she learned to fight so well?
“I don’t know who made me,” she replied. “My squire Grillo named me after his youngest daughter who’d passed away a long time ago. His Majesty never gave me a name. Even after he learned about my presence in Unaro.” She paused as if deep in thought. “The time before I had a name seemed so long ago…at first, I had been the Thing. A strange Thing that walked and frightened people. No one gave me a place to stay until I’d found Grillo. He had served many knights, but his Majesty had never knighted him.”
Her fists clenched and unclenched. “It made me so angry to see a swordmaster treated so poorly. A man like Grillo lived in an ill-kept hut outside the Unaro stronghold. And yet, he took me in and named me. Over time, he even taught me how to fight.” Her voice rose. “How to live.”
While she spoke with fervent passion about her life with Grillo, jealousy blossomed in my chest. If I would’ve kept her, she would’ve remained lifeless in my old carpenter shop, and yet, after abandoning her I was still to blame for what she’d experienced. “And what about the man who’d made you. Do you ever think of him?”
Her head cocked to the side in a coyish manner. “I used to daydream about the man who’d made me,” she said. “I imagined he spent years making me and loved me more than he loved himself. Once he was done though, something horrible had happened. Maybe he was taking me somewhere and died along the way. I liked to believe he died while holding me. Or maybe that he had been dragged away—”
A knock sounded on the door and a soldier entered.
“His Majesty has summoned you to his private quarters,” the man said.
I cursed under my breath. Such an order couldn’t be denied.
“You’ll have to excuse me.” I considered how long I’d be gone. King Jeffren didn’t honor the Veil’s Old Law, nor did he care for his soldiers either. “Will you be all right sitting there with your arms tied?”
Clack clack. “You could untie me, if you like?”
As much as I wanted to free my little Drykola, I couldn’t.
I said, “I’ll return soon, Pynnelope.”
* * *
Once I arrived in King Jeffren’s vast, private chambers, he didn’t waste time conveying his displeasure at my failure. “Why haven’t you given me what I want, Kristos?”
I got down on one knee and lowered my head. All these movements were pretense. An act I played for a man who cared more for himself than his subjects. This fact was evident in the marble floors from Crasoon, the priceless artifacts adorning the walls, and the Unaro slaves who served his every whim. King Jeffren, the absolute ruler of Daquer’s five great cities, sat in the middle of it all, a burly man who had never lifted a finger to protect his borders.
“She is loyal to her king, your Majesty.” I glanced to my left. There were familiar faces in this opulent chamber. My young squire and his younger sister stood with clasped hands and bowed heads next to Craven, the king’s personal guard. Not good. My king had promised me he wouldn’t touch them.
Anger pulsed through my fingertips. I forced my hands into fists.
King Jeffren made a rude noise and dabbed the side of his mouth with a scented scarf. The overwhelming lavender aroma did little to mask the king’s foul body odor.
“I hired you for a reason, boy. I command and you do as you’re told.” He sniffed noisily. “You’ve wasted a few days already and I’ve been far too lenient. The more time we give Unaro to regroup, the less time we have for a surprise attack.” His Majesty’s gaze flicked to his guard and that bastard snatched my squire by the back of the head. He easily raised the lad a few feet in the air. The boy squeaked. In two steps I advanced on them, but stopped cold as Craven raised his dagger to my squire’s gut.
“Go ahead and take another step, Kristos.” The man grinned, revealing browning teeth. “I’ve been waiting for you to fail so I can kill him.”
The king had made me into someone I detested—a man without recourse but to obey.
King Jeffren slowly smiled. “You always had a soft spot for people. That is your weakness. Ever since I drew you into my ranks from that hovel you called a carpenter shop, I’d been waiting to use you for your true purpose. Destroying my enemies. And now that I have you, I plan to bleed you dry.”
The king gestured to Craven and the guard dropped the boy.
I shuddered from the need to strike.
Elisia’s words from so long ago rang through my darkened senses: “After you return from Crasoon, we’re leaving Daquer. No more fighting. No more death. I’m tired of seeing your bloodied hands.”
I wanted more blood on my hands. The king’s blood. Ten strides separated us. Practically a canyon if I thought about it. Even if I got past Craven and tried to strike the king down, his slaves who feared his wrath would defend him with their lives.
“You have until midnight, Kristos,” King Jeffren warned. “After that, I’ll let Craven kill them both.”
Chapter 3
Kristos
* * *
In less than a day, two people may die due to my actions. And the very idea that I had to bend to King Jeffren’s will mad
e me want to crush him with my bare hands.
Either way, I had until dawn to force Pynnelope to do the unthinkable: betray the people who hadn’t cast her aside like I did.
Her words bounced around my head as I stormed out of King Jeffren’s quarters.
“I used to daydream about the man who’d made me,” she’d said. “I imagined he spent years making me and loved me more than he loved himself. Once he was done though, something horrible had happened. Maybe he was taking me somewhere and died along the way. I liked to believe he died while holding me. Or maybe that he had been dragged away…”
But I had left her behind.
I wandered briefly, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. My journey finally brought me back to my quarters to face Pynnelope. She was where I’d left her, sitting at the table tied in chains.
Shame stirred in my stomach. Without a word, I picked her up and carried her outside. I refused to do this without at least letting her enjoy the feel of the sun on her face. Along the way no one bothered me. She was still a bound prisoner and I was her interrogator.
There were plenty of gardens tended by the king’s master gardeners, but my feet took me past them to the one place I rarely ventured. Stone paths led us to a few cottages and an ancient courtyard. This new place left Pynnelope enthralled.
“This garden is beautiful…” I heard her whisper in my arms.
Daquer was a kingdom of conquerors, not artisans. This courtyard had once been laid with the utmost care, but bloodstains and scorch marks marred the circular stone center. Chrysanthemums and other autumn flowers had witnessed many awful things.
I placed Pynnelope on a stone bench and forced my mouth to move. “I didn’t bring you here to show you this place, Pynnelope. There’s something I have to tell you…I know the man who made you.”
Slowly, her head turned from the gardens to face me.
“You’d been found in a cedar and walnut tree grove, yes?” I kept going. “About two feet deep under the ground?”
She glanced at her feet and then back to me. “I hadn’t been buried. What makes you believe I had been?”
Knives coursed down the back of my throat. “Because I put you there.”
For the longest time she stared at me.
“Many years ago, I eloped with a woman named Elisia,” I began. “She was outspoken. Tall and beautiful. She fell in love with the Daquer King’s swordmaster. Me. Over time, I obtained power. Villages without an allegiance bowed to the crown under my hand. Men without a leader followed me. According to the king, I grew too powerful and had to be reminded of my place.” My throat began to dry. “After a short campaign to defend the border with the Crasoons, I returned to find Elisia missing and a burning pyre right here in this courtyard.”
Pynnelope stiffened. “So he killed her…to spite you?”
“He took the only thing I loved as a clear message: my life and the people that I loved belonged to him.” I picked up a rock and clenched it tight enough to hurt my palm. “I collected her ashes and left my post that very day. Time passed. When I grew tired of sitting still I took up my father’s profession, carpentry. That first year had been hard. Too hard. I drank myself to oblivion. When oblivion wouldn’t accept me, I traveled across Veil—until I came to a beautiful cedar and walnut tree grove. The trees grew tall and the wood was firm. Right then and there I resolved to use my skills to craft you, in remembrance of Elisia.”
She didn’t speak so I kept going.
“After I made you, I was so happy, but my pain ran too deep so I buried you in Unaros,” I whispered.
She snorted and shook her head. “I guess I didn’t make you happy enough.” Her eyes flashed with venom.
“You gave me purpose, Drykola.”
Her chin rose upon hearing that name. “Drykola?”
“That was what I’d named you. It means ‘wood tree bird’ in the ancient Daquer tongue. We had a family of them living in the wood I used.” I wanted to touch the top of her head to comfort her, but stopped myself. “I should’ve let Elisia go and made you your own person.”
I sighed. “The gods have given me an opportunity to fix my mistakes and do what I was meant to do.” I loosened the chains around her torso. “And that means taking care of you and dealing with the hold my King has over me.”
I pulled the Daquer signet medallion from my pocket. The diamond gleamed under the day’s sunlight. “Would you forgive me if I gave you this?” I had to hold the signet tightly. Some unseen force connected them together. As if Pynnelope and the royal signets had once been one but something had pulled them apart. “You can take it and escape. I’ll rescue my squire and hold them off as long as I can. Maybe someday we’ll find each other again.”
I brought the jewel closer to her. My grip never wavered. With only a few inches to spare, a miraculous thing happened.
My Little Bird took her first breath.
* * *
Pynnelope
* * *
My first breath. It was rather hard to describe. My solid chest expanded and contracted. Shook and sputtered. A relieved hum settled in my chest and I truly spoke my first words.
“So that’s what flowers smell like,” I whispered. My voice was pure. Smooth like water flowing along a brook.
Kristos placed the signet over my heart. Once he was satisfied with its placement, he tossed the chains into the flowerbeds and returned to me. “We shouldn’t say good bye to each other so how about ‘until I see you again’?”
He placed his warm hand on my cheek and stroked the wood along my chin. When he began to withdraw I placed my hand over his. Now that I’d found my maker, he’d never get rid of me. I’d always remember our turbulent past, but now I had to think of the future. “How about we settle for goodbye after I’ve set you free?”
His right eyebrow rose. “I want to see you walk away on my terms, Drykola.”
My stomach fluttered. A strange, yet delightful sensation.
“I could get used to this breathing thing…” To distract myself, I tried to whistle a soft tune Grillo whistled in the mornings. My shrill noises sounded like a choking bird. “Ehh, I’ll stick to breathing for a while.”
I folded my arms and looked over his pensive, handsome face. His scar made him more endearing to me. Did he really think I couldn’t help him?
“Are you going to run away soon?” he pressed.
I retrieved the chains from the flowerbed. He had no choice but to follow. “Have you fallen off your horse and hit your head too many times?”
He blew out a long breath, and I knew from that moment on we’d get along splendidly. “You were a lot more cooperative when you didn’t talk back,” he grumbled.
I snorted. “Grillo often said that.”
He finally accepted the chains and re-tied them around my torso. Once that was done, we set out.
“So where are they keeping your squire?” I asked evenly.
“Craven’s got them. He’s the king’s personal guard. His Majesty wouldn’t have tolerated their presence for long—which means Craven took them to his quarters.”
“Does he live in the village outside the palace? That would make our escape much easier.”
“You’ll see,” he said with a cold finality.
We headed back into the palace. From the inner halls of the Daquer stronghold, we ventured straight until we reached a forked path—one led upstairs, while another went down. The path downward was darker than I expected. Light barely touched the damp corners. Once we climbed down two flights, Kristos removed my bonds and handed me a dagger from the sheath on his hip.
“Is this all you got? A rusty toy?” I quipped.
He ignored me and kept going.
The castle’s bowels held a silence that sunk deep into my limbs. Almost as if the mold along the walls would crawl into me and poison me from within. We’d walked quite far for a personal guard’s quarters.
“Why doesn’t he have a room near the king?” I asked.
&n
bsp; “Privacy,” he replied. “No one can hear him when he brings women down here.”
I nodded. Nothing else needed to be said. I’d met men like Craven before and when I hit them, they screamed just as loudly as the people they beat.
At the end of the long hallway, a line of light wrapped around a door. Kristos slowed down. His heavy footsteps grew quiet. We reached the door and I waited.
Kristos rested his hand on his sword’s hilt. Drew in a deep breath. Then another.
With a grunt, he kicked open the door. I stormed in behind him to find a musty, well-lit room. Three guards stood at a tiny table in the corner. Haggard-looking slave girls dressed in filthy shifts sat at their feet. One guard had a bottle of mead in his meaty fist while the others were in the middle of a card game. The whole place stank of abuse and torture.
Fury quaked through my limbs. The squire, an older boy who looked to be no more than fifteen years or so, lay in a bloody heap on the floor while his younger sister cowered before a burly man with shortly cropped red hair and ruddy brown eyes. That had to be Craven.
They were scum. All of them.
Were we too late?
“Take the children and leave, Pynnelope.” Death trailed Kristos’s words.
“Why should she leave?” Craven drawled. “If she stayed long enough to play, I’ll find out what his Majesty needs to know.”
Craven didn’t wait for an answer. With a snarl, he advanced on Kristos, swinging his sword wide. Kristos pushed me to the side as he vaulted out of the way to avoid the wild swing. The sword whistled with each strike barely missing Kristos’s head.
Meanwhile, now that their show had ended, the three guards withdrew their weapons and looked my way. The women at their feet screeched and scattered for safe places to hide.
And all he’d left me was a dagger.
Those were the kind of odds a girl like me enjoyed.
Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales Page 45