The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Why don’t you do it? Or one of your surgeons?”

  “I told you. Only you can. Take back the wound you gave me. Please.”

  Shouting arose outside the window. A clash of steel. A shriek of terror.

  “What’s that?”

  He didn’t even glance. “We’re coming for you, Andromeda. To rescue you. I told you I’d fight if I had to.”

  “I don’t need rescuing!”

  “Then exercise your free will and come to me. We’ll distract your guards so you can.”

  “I can’t.” I tried to scramble away from him, my heart pounding in terror that he’d somehow grab me and drag me out the window, carrying me away, screaming, into the night. But I was trapped between him and the tower wall.

  His face fell, disappointment followed by anger. “You can and you will.” He took me by the shoulders, strong hands biting into my arms. His hair draped around me, curtaining out the world. “If you won’t come to me, I’ll come for you. Wherever they hide you, I will find you. This I swear.”

  Lady Gaignor, blond hair spilling in a wild tangle around her, shook me by the shoulders.

  “Princess Andi—wake up! We must get you to safety.”

  Behind her, my three sentries ranged in the doorway, swords gleaming deadly in the torchlight from the antechamber. Men in armor poured into the outer room with much clashing and banging. Sounds poured in from outside. Horrible shrieks and angry cries.

  I rolled across the bed to the window. Below, dark shapes swarmed over the bridges, climbing up the outer walls with spidery strength and speed. Archers picked them off here and there, but ten times as many spilled over. The sword-bearing soldiers fared no better—more seemed to be chasing after furry, long-legged shapes than skewering any. Great black raptors dived from the sky, harassing soldiers and archers alike.

  Everywhere, bodies were strewn about, human and animal, blood pools glimmering in the light of the torches on the walls. In the brief moment I caught, an enormous black wolf took down one of our soldiers, jaws locked on the woman’s throat.

  “Princess!” One of the sentries grabbed me around the waist, placing himself between me and the window. “It’s not safe for you to look out.”

  “I just wanted to see—”

  “Put this on, Princess.” Violet Gaignor looked as panicked as I’d ever seen her. She threw a black cloak over me and knelt to slip boots onto my feet, lacing them tightly.

  “Boots? Do they really go with my nightgown?” It was all so absurd.

  “In case the enemy manages to penetrate the inner walls. And believe me, you’d be glad to have them then.”

  Ursula came striding in, steely eyes glinting as she surveyed me. Some kind of shining black liquid spattered her boots. “Why isn’t anyone on that window? Moxon, Din—get over there and cover it. Andi—why in Glorianna aren’t you out the door already? I taught you better than this. I swear you can sleep through anything.”

  “My sword is on the press by the window—would someone allowed to go near the window hand it to me?”

  One of the soldiers—Moxon, maybe—leaned around the open arch of the window and snagged my sword where it lay in its sheath, the leather belt snaking around it. With a blush and a nod, he handed it to me. I buckled it on over my nightgown.

  “You should keep it closer than that.”

  “Not all of us sleep with our swords, Ursula.”

  Someone sniggered and I regretted my sharp words until she replied.

  “Not all of us are so lucky as to lie about while others give their lifeblood to protect us. Speaking of which—why aren’t you in the safe room yet?”

  “If you’ll get someone to gather up some real clothes for me, I can change in whatever room you’re hiding me in.”

  She nodded at me and I let Gaignor bundle me out of the room. Tall soldiers surrounded us, so all I could see were backs and shoulders. Between their striding legs, I glimpsed the hallway, the floor flooded with a pool of shining black. They took us to an inside holding room, several floors up from the ground level, but not in one of the towers.

  “Did you see anything?” I asked her. The sounds roaring across the castle seemed far worse for coming from invisible sources. What made that peculiar howl?

  Gaignor shook her head. “No. Nor do I care to.” She dashed tears away, stifling a sob.

  “Hey—don’t cry. They’re probably just making a show, to get the King to hand me over. Posturing. You know how the fighters do.”

  “If they breach the outer courtyard—what of the horses?” she choked out.

  My stomach congealed, cold with dread. The horses would be killed. I imagined the stables on fire, Fiona screaming as she burned. Midnight-blue eyes flashed in my mind, Rayfe smiling that cocked half smile, his wolfhounds milling around him while he dug his long fingers affectionately through their fur.

  “They won’t hurt the horses.” My voice carried conviction and Violet blinked at me through her tears. “They love animals. It’s the soldiers who will die.” Faceless men and women in their armor. I didn’t know the names of most of them. Not like Ursula did.

  The door opened with a crash and Amelia came rushing in, a vision in creamy lace that barely concealed her lithe-limbed body, largely because she’d neglected to fasten the emerald velvet robe she’d tossed on over it.

  She flung herself in my arms, twilight-blue eyes wide with concern.

  “Are you all right, Andi? Those horrible creatures haven’t hurt you?”

  “No—have you seen them?”

  “Yes.” She shuddered, shaking her hands as if they were spattered with night dirt. “They swarmed our tower. Hugh had to fight them off to get me through. Horrible. But he carved through those beasts like they were nothing.”

  Gaignor and I exchanged glances.

  “What were they, Amelia? We haven’t seen anything.”

  “Haven’t you? Oh! I thought surely if they were in our tower, they would have been in yours. Of course, they can’t know where we each sleep, so I suppose it was chance.”

  Except I knew it wasn’t. Rayfe knew where I slept. Those weren’t just dreams; they couldn’t be. My arms ached where he’d grasped me, and I still smelled his scent on me, never mind how impossible that might be. My head throbbed.

  “The creatures, Princess Amelia,” Lady Gaignor urged, “what are they?”

  Amelia bit her lip. “They’re not like anything. Rats, maybe. Yes, like large rats with no tails and sharp teeth. And they’re black as midnight. When Hugh cut them with his sword, black fluid poured out, leaving them these empty sacks. Hairy bags of nothing, strewn everywhere. But their blood poured over the steps, coating everything. Hugh had to carry me over it.”

  The black spatter on Ursula’s boots, the slick pools covering the white stone floors.

  “Rats don’t howl.” I couldn’t sit, so I stood to pace the small chamber, feeling silly in my riding boots and white nightgown, cinched around my waist with the sword belt. “Did you see dogs? Like wolfhounds?”

  “No one breeds wolfhounds anymore, Princess.” Lady Gaignor said it gently, like I might be delusional and in need of soothing. I realized I’d dug my fingers into my hair and was pressing my skull. The headache that had never quite faded spiked, hot and cruel. The howls from outside seemed to be crying my name.

  “You’re thinking of Rayfe’s wolfhounds, in that meadow,” Amelia breathed. She cocked her head, listening. “I don’t hear howling. And I didn’t see any dogs—just those rat things.”

  “You’re wrong.” I paced faster. This room was far too small. I needed to see outside. “They’re out there. Can’t you hear them? They’re in pain. They need me.”

  Come to me.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Gaignor and Amelia exchanged looks. Amelia slowly rose to her feet, holding out a slim white hand to me. “Come sit down. We need to be quiet and wait.”

  “No!” I screamed at her. “Don’t you see? I should never have left m
y dagger in his shoulder. In his heart. He’s bleeding. Can’t you hear him howling?”

  I grabbed the latch and flung the wooden door open. The surprised guards spun, swords flashing silver up to my face. I ducked beneath, making it only a bare stride before one wrapped his mailed arms around me, lifting me from my feet, crushing me while I screamed incoherently.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Amelia sobbed in the background.

  “She’s gone mad,” Gaignor called. “Restrain the Princess. Do not harm her.”

  More shouting, and a flock of small blackbirds filled the hallway, warbling so sweetly that the screams, the black ooze pouring down the nearby steps, seemed impossibly vulgar and wrong. I stilled, watching them. They swirled a perfect spiral and vanished. When their song ceased, the howling had stopped also. And the pain in my head miraculously eased.

  All the tumult from outside ceased, leaving an unnatural silence heavy in the air.

  The guard set me down.

  We stood there, pretending nothing odd had occurred, while I adjusted my gown around the sword belt and drew the cloak tight around me. A chill breeze speaking of more rain poured in, meaning that the great front doors of the castle were open again.

  Ursula’s boot steps came snapping down the hallway. I heard her calling out orders for scouting parties and renewed guards. “My sisters—are they all right?”

  She rounded the corner and raised a sardonic eyebrow at me. Shining black drops spattered her high cheekbone on one side. Some of my and Amelia’s ladies scurried behind her—including the garrulous Lady Dulcinor, who threw me a scandalized look disguised as sympathy—thankfully carrying better clothes for us.

  “Your clothes, as ordered.” Ursula’s tone was dry—though for my telling her what to do or for something else, I couldn’t be sure.

  Amelia’s ladies slipped past into the little room, drawing the door shut behind them. Gaignor took my clothes and starting shaking them out for me.

  “I can’t change in my room?”

  “You’re not going back to your chambers—too dangerous.”

  “What’s going on?” Amelia called out.

  “The enemy”—Ursula gave me a curious look—“suddenly fell back. They appear to be in full retreat. Our forces are in pursuit, but we must take advantage of this opportunity. Andi, change your clothes—the King is on his way.”

  Too late. Uorsin’s bellowed orders rattled down the hallway, bouncing off the marble floors and soaring ceilings. Ursula stepped back a pace, setting herself apart. Not a good sign.

  Uorsin came around the corner, clad in gleaming golden armor, scarlet cape swirling with the vigor of his stride. His grizzled hair bristled in disarray from the helm he’d yanked off, the one the young page trotting at his side carried like a shield. Hugh followed, off Uorsin’s left shoulder, his bright armor spattered with red and black blood. Uorsin held his naked sword still, the bright silver length dripping with shiny black. I’d never seen my father so radiant, so brilliantly present. His eyes flared with battle fire.

  Then he pinned me with his gaze.

  I drew myself up, acutely conscious that, with Amelia having changed, I alone now wore my nightclothes, topped as my gown was with a riding cloak. Surrounded by these armored people, I felt suddenly alien to them. Whatever had woken in me to the presence of the Tala around me still prowled in my heart. I was part Tala, and Tala wore no armor. My defenses came from inside. I would not quail in imagined guilt before my family.

  I had done nothing wrong. I only wanted to stay in my home.

  “My King.” I curtsied, trying to steady myself against the soul-crushing fear. “Prince Hugh and Princess Ursula. We offer our undying gratitude for your defense of us tonight.”

  Hugh’s face changed, passing from the grim lines of the warrior to such a glowing expression of joy and tenderness that it was almost embarrassing to look upon. I knew that meant Amelia had slipped out of the room behind me. She joined me in the curtsy, slipping her delicate fingers through mine.

  “Indeed, my King, my sister. My husband and prince—we are grateful. And thankful for your continued well-being.” Amelia’s voice held a question, and I saw Hugh’s slight nod. Her breath sighed out in a rush of relief, as if she’d discovered that she, too, would live.

  “We were victorious,” Uorsin declared. “The Tala fled before our superior forces. They are no match for us.”

  A pair of servants passed down the hall then, one pulling and the other pushing a wooden wagon piled high with furry black bodies, the empty sacks Amelia had described. My stomach clenched for all the death and suffering, and I yanked my gaze away to find Uorsin still staring at me, calculating. Angry, yes, but he also loved every moment of this.

  Uorsin, the hero of the Twelve Kingdoms. I could see that young man in him now, the one who’d emerged from the Wild Lands with a bride—nowhere was it mentioned how willing she might have been—and proceeded to take over the known world. Remaking it in his image.

  “We fought bravely tonight,” Uorsin declared to no one in particular. He handed his sword to the page. Another popped forward with a cleaning cloth. Uorsin stripped off his gauntlets and handed them to another page without taking his gaze from me. “And our cowardly attackers failed in their foolish quest to take what belongs to me. But this is far from over.”

  He seemed to be waiting for an answer from me. I waited him out. Something not quite sane rode through his voice. No one seemed to hear it but me.

  “You do have the look of her,” Uorsin mused. “I wonder what else of hers you got.”

  He closed the space between us, raised his hand, and I braced myself. But he only lifted a long stream of my hair where it flowed thick and loose over my shoulder. “This is her hair, too red to be black. Never mind your witchy eyes. Somewhere in there you are mine as much as your sisters are. You will give me what your mother denied me. I see it now. They will regret this attempt to take what’s rightfully mine. You belong to me. Your power is mine, not theirs! They think to have you as I had her, and I won’t allow it, do you hear? I would see you dead first!”

  His voice ended in a thunderous roar, his meaty fist bunched in my hair so my scalp screamed with it. But I refused to flinch. Amelia clutched my hand so tightly, she crushed the bones together. I hoped she wouldn’t cry even as I marveled that she didn’t cringe back from him.

  “You are to be sent away, Daughter. Now is the ideal time, before those unclean vermin summon up the dregs of their pitiful courage again. I shall question the prisoners and discover their strategy. Then we shall eliminate every last one and you shall help me take possession of their lands. This is the price they will pay.”

  Uorsin released me so suddenly, I staggered against Amelia. She held me tight. Hugh and Ursula both maintained diplomatically polite faces.

  “Set your ladies to packing your things. Take whichever among them you wish to. No telling how long we’ll have to hide you away. We shall make them believe you are here, inviting them to try their pitiful attacks until they have nothing left. They think I don’t know that once they come out, they cannot return.” He smiled unpleasantly and glared, clearly waiting for my reply.

  “Thank you, my King.” I stammered the words somehow, from behind the fist in my throat. A day ago I hadn’t imagined myself as anything but the invisible middle daughter, living my cozy and uneventful life. It seemed my mind had great trouble catching up to all the changes. I couldn’t quite conceive of who I’d be, in this new place I’d never seen. I don’t want to leave my home. Had I told Rayfe that only hours ago? And now I would anyway.

  Amelia squeezed my numb hand, reminding me I still had sisters. Dafne Mailloux had survived without that much. I could be at least that strong.

  “My King and Father?”

  Ursula stiffened with a steely warning glare, but I ignored her. I knelt at Uorsin’s feet, ignoring the gore encrusting his boots. I bowed my head and waited.

  “Speak.” His voice was gruff, but not
so angry. I raised my head and he offered his hand, the one he’d wrapped so cruelly in my hair. I took it and leaned my forehead against it, following a vague memory of my mother doing this very thing.

  “I shall take Dafne Mailloux with me.” I thought it best to sound as didactic as he. Uorsin understood that. “I know you will need your dungeon space because of all the trouble I’ve caused. I’ll have her remove her books and so forth from that space and store them in my empty chambers for the time being.”

  “That is unusually thoughtful of you, Daughter. Though I had thought to use those useless tomes and silly scrolls as fodder for the bonfires.”

  “As you think best, of course, my King,” I murmured to his hand.

  “Ech,” Uorsin pulled his hand away and lifted my chin. His glittering eyes surveyed my face. “You were never one to care much for books. Why now?”

  I tried to keep my face impassive. Desperately I wished for Ursula’s cool steel.

  “They do matter to you. How interesting. Fine, then. Ursula—rouse Lady Mailloux, if no one has done so. Inform her she’ll be traveling with Princess Andi”—he flicked a glance at Hugh—“to parts unknown. Direct her staff to remove all the texts to the Princess’s former chambers, which shall be stripped of her belongings.”

  “Thank you, my King,” I told him, when he paused to hear it.

  “We will keep them for you. Along with that horse you love so well. Should I have any reason to doubt that your loyalty lies with me and me only, I shall make a bonfire of those precious books and burn your horse alive upon them.”

  He smiled, a grim warrior’s smile that savored his hold over me.

  He’d been the one to set me on my first pony’s back. It was my birthday, the last one before my mother died. She’d given me a doll, so excited to show it to me. She’d suggested I name the doll Garland. I’d kissed her and handed the doll back—it wasn’t a very pretty thing—and my father had promised to show me how to ride, giving me attention I rarely received. Happy, I realized now, that I liked his gift better than hers. I cheerfully named the little black pony Garland, instead. My mother never said anything that I recalled. She set the doll on the shelf near my bed, to watch over me, she said.