by Cayla Kluver
“Seven. Harvested crops will be divided with twenty percent delivered to Cokyri and eighty percent remaining within the province. Special Cokyrian envoys will be in charge of coordinating the planting and farming effort.
“And Eight. A tax will be imposed on trade and businesses in the amount of ten percent of earnings, in accordance with rules to be established by the Cokyrian tax collector.”
The ensuing silence was thick, the Hytanicans no doubt having been ordered by the captain not to respond. The High Priestess might have declared that Hytanica no longer had a military, but these men still had a chain of command.
“The people revere you and will follow your example,” Narian concluded, rolling up the parchment and looking at each man in turn. “If you abide by these laws, this province can prosper. The Hytanican people can know peace.”
“We can live comfortable half lives, you mean,” Steldor retorted. He had changed so much since his brush with death, but when angered, he still had difficulty controlling his tongue.
“For now, comfort is more than you have the right to expect. You are a conquered people, and the High Priestess is being exceptionally generous.”
Galen’s hand fell on his friend’s shoulder. Neither he nor Steldor had spared a glance for me throughout this meeting, perhaps because they knew where my convictions lay. I had been first among my people to see these regulations, and though they intimidated me, it was my responsibility to encourage cooperation between Hytanica and Cokyri. I had negotiated with the Overlord to allow my people to exit our conquered homeland, preferring a nomadic life to one of tyranny, and later had signed a treaty with the High Priestess to permit our return. But we were now a Cokyrian province, and that status brought restrictions. With time, limitations would be lessened and we would be granted more privileges. I had to make sure we survived this difficult stage to find a better one, for everyone’s sake.
I came to my feet, intending to say something, but London interceded.
“Narian’s right. Were the Overlord alive and in command, we would likely be enslaved.”
I could have sworn gratitude graced Narian’s countenance, for London was reminding the others that the eighteen-year-old had paved the way to the Overlord’s destruction when he had challenged his master in the clearing to protect me. It had been the High Priestess, however, who had delivered the final blow, saving Narian’s life by slitting her brother’s throat when she had realized that his evil exceeded her control. The other men grudgingly accepted London’s point and Narian moved on with the meeting.
“There is one more issue to address—the positions you men will hold in this new Hytanica. The High Priestess feels it would be unwise to leave you to your own devices.”
This was spoken as a warning, and Narian let the words hang in the air for a moment before he went on.
“Each of you is hereby given certain duties. London has already taken up the role of Alera’s bodyguard and will remain in that post. Cannan, you will operate from your old office in an advisory capacity to Alera while she learns to govern the province. As for the rest of you, the city is in dire need of repairs, and you will be assigned to that task, working with the Cokyrians who are managing the effort. Steldor, you are assigned to the southern section of the city, Galen to the west and Halias to the east. The north will remain under my jurisdiction.”
I could sense indignation flaring within Steldor—his pride was enormous, while Galen was less easily offended; and Cannan, Halias and London had the presence of mind and the years under their belts to take what they were handed. None of them, however, was pleased with the current state of affairs, and I feared how long their subdued attitudes would last.
“Why not simply execute us?” Steldor asked, his jaw tight, no doubt thinking of his uncle Baelic’s fate after Hytanica had surrendered.
“To appease the public,” Narian snapped.
“Very well,” Cannan said, holding up a hand to stifle his son. “I assume that’s all?”
His words sounded like a dismissal rather than a question, a harsh reminder that there was no enjoyment to be found for him or his men in Narian’s company. There was a tense pause, and I could feel an immense struggle for power beneath the surface.
“Yes. You are free to go.”
Cannan looked to Steldor, Galen and Halias, tipping his head toward the exit at his back to indicate that they should depart. The three obeyed without a word, and when the door had closed, he once more addressed Narian.
“The High Priestess does not misjudge us. We could be dangerous to her.” The captain scrutinized the young commander, and there was something strange in his expression, something hidden in his thoughts that I could not deduce. “But I think you know I have lost enough and have no desire to lose my son, as well. I will restrain Steldor and the others. They will cause you no strife.”
Narian nodded his appreciation, and Cannan’s gaze went fleetingly to London, who had retaken his original position against the wall. After a bow to me, which was inappropriate if it indicated I was still Queen and a slight to Narian if it was deference to a leader, for he offered him no such show of respect, he disappeared into the corridor after his men.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Narian said to me, holding up the scroll. “I must see to the immediate distribution of these rules.”
“Of course.”
He picked up the daggers Steldor and Galen had relinquished and departed the way he had come, through the door into what was now known as the Hearing Hall, leaving me where I had started—alone with London in the Drawing Room.
“You certainly handled that meeting well,” the former Elite Guard remarked with a cynical lift to one eyebrow.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I bristled, not in the mood for subtlety or his teasing.
“Only that you did an excellent job of assembling everyone,” he replied, ignoring my tone. “I’m just wondering if that’s what we can look forward to from the Grand Provost in the future.”
“And what would you want from the Grand Provost in the future?”
He laughed and pushed away from the wall.
“I know you, Alera, perhaps better than anyone. I’ve seen your courage, your resourcefulness. I know the leader you can become, the leader I believe you want to become. But what you need to understand is that you have to take hold of the reins right from the beginning. If you don’t, by the time you feel ready, the reins will have slipped through your fingers and you’ll be led by another.”
“You mean by Narian.”
He shrugged and ran a hand through his unruly silver hair.
“Was there nothing in the regulations that struck you as overly severe? You must have seen them before this meeting. Was there nothing you might have wanted to alter?”
I stared at him, finally understanding his point.
“Take hold of the reins,” he repeated, opening the door into the Hearing Hall so that I could cross its expanse to reach my office, formerly the King’s study. As I walked past him, he added with his signature smirk, “In Cokyri, women can wear the breeches.”
When evening came, I returned to my rooms, which had for generations been the quarters of the King and Queen, dismissing London before I entered. Hytanica no longer had a King and Queen, but the High Priestess had permitted me to occupy this part of the second floor out of respect for tradition. Although the furnishings had survived the Cokyrian occupation with little damage, I spent most of my time
in my bedroom, for the parlor and the bedroom that had been Steldor’s felt haunted. In truth, they were haunted by memories, both from my childhood and my marriage. Since I’d taken up residence, I had not even entered the room that had been the King’s, and it felt to me that the closed door led to nothing.
Every so often, I would force myself to sit in the parlor, not retreating so hastily to sleep. I would try to read, but the worries and responsibilities that cluttered my mind interfered with my concentration. Tonight I had prepared for bed, donning a nightgown and robe, then had gone to sit upon the leather sofa, trying my best to feel comfortable and at home in a palace overrun with Cokyrian soldiers.
It wasn’t long before Kitten, the pet Steldor had given me after my sister had been abducted, jumped up beside me. The black-and-gray tabby cat settled in contentedly, oblivious to the issues that troubled me. I stroked his back, thinking about Miranna, who had been held in Cokyri for months, to be rescued eventually by London. Two weeks ago, she had married Temerson, the boy she had been courting prior to the abduction, but she was still far from her effervescent former self. I saw her frequently, for she and Temerson resided in the palace on the third floor, in the same wing as my parents. But Temerson would before long purchase a house with the money he had inherited from his father, one of the officers slain by the Overlord. While it was not customary for royalty to leave the palace, the Palace of Hytanica as we had known it no longer existed. Moving out of the Bastion would be good for Miranna—we lived too close to the enemy here, too close to remembrance and fear.
Hearing a noise from my bedroom, I glanced toward its open door, but not in alarm, for it was an indication that Narian had come. I watched him slip through the window, his lack of stealth due to no form of clumsiness—the first time he had snuck into my quarters was when I had been Crown Princess, and he had given me a dreadful scare; he was simply making certain not to do it again. It was strange to have relapsed into the pattern of that long-ago clandestine relationship, but precautions were necessary. It was too soon for my people or the Cokyrians to learn of our connection. Although Narian and I trusted each other, the High Priestess’s suspicions about us had weakened her trust in him, and my people saw him as the enemy. If not for the fact that he was ideally suited to the position he held, for he understood both cultures, I doubted she would have left him in charge. It was ironic that we had for months hidden our relationship from my father and now were keeping secrets from the woman who had raised Narian.
I stood and went to meet him, his face lit only by the moonlight filtering between the drapes he had left parted.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, for he did not work out of the Bastion, and our separate duties did not often bring us together, nor did they allow us much privacy.
He stepped closer to me, bringing his lips to mine, and I ran my fingers through his thick blond hair. One of his hands slid behind my neck, the other trailing down my back to rest on my hips, and a thrill tickled my spine. When our lips reluctantly parted, we rested our foreheads together, our breathing falling into the same rhythm.
After a moment of comfortable silence, I asked, “Do you think they took it well? Cannan and the others, I mean.”
I wanted desperately to believe no more lives would be lost. I prayed the men would recognize that this was the way to safeguard our people.
“They took it as well as can be expected,” he answered with a shrug, then his tone grew puzzled. “London, especially.”
I studied his face, noting the slight crease in his brow. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he responded, removing his weapons belt and laying it on the table next to the bed before reclining on the mattress against a stack of pillows.
I lay down beside him, nestling against his shoulder, his arm around me. Although our positions were terribly improper by Hytanican standards, the faith I had in Narian made it all seem innocuous. He would never take advantage of me, nor pressure me for anything I was not ready to give. I waited, knowing he would tell me what was bothering him in his own time.
“It’s just that London’s reputation belies a willingness to admit defeat, and I find his complaisance…disconcerting.”
“Well, we’ve already been defeated,” I pointed out. “He can’t deny it or fight it. And he may well see the same opportunity to direct Hytanica’s future that we do. The High Priestess did not have to name me Grand Provost, after all. Had she put one of her shield maidens in this position, our straits would be much worse.”
Narian continued to think, his posture unchanged. He’d always had misgivings when it came to London; my bodyguard had been the one to uncover the legend that had foretold of Narian’s conquest of Hytanica and had also been the one to discover our relationship and endeavor to keep us apart. And it had been London who had improved our negotiating position with the Overlord toward the end of the war, for he had developed and executed the plan to abduct the High Priestess. There were thus plenty of reasons to be apprehensive when it came to the former deputy captain. Remembering the most significant outcome of my tendency to let my mind overrule my heart—London’s dismissal from the military—I forced myself to banish what doubts I might have harbored about my bodyguard.
Narian rolled onto his side to gaze down at me, his intense blue eyes finding mine of dark brown. He kissed me deeply, his body coming into light contact with mine, and all the feelings I had fought against with Steldor came achingly to the surface. With a sigh that revealed his own yearning, he shifted away, propping his head up with his hand.
“I’ve been thinking about changing my center of operations to the Bastion for some time now,” he confessed. “The High Priestess’s rules are an attempt to move the province forward, despite their restrictiveness. Setting up here would help the Hytanican people to see me as a leader and not just a conqueror.”
“You would live here?” I asked, my eyes wide, knowing how much easier that would make it for us to spend time together. At the moment, Narian worked out of the building in the city that had belonged to the Master at Arms, who had been in charge of the City Guard, and it was difficult for him to break away to see me.
“Perhaps on the third floor, or in your old quarters in the other wing here on the second.”
“How soon?”
“Without delay.” He reached out to touch my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I took his hand and held it there, warm against my face. “The High Priestess won’t question it. She has impressed upon me the need to keep careful watch over Cannan and London, in particular.”
“Is that why you don’t trust them?” I asked, assuming a position similar to his. “Because she doesn’t?”
“It would be unreasonable to trust them at this point.”
I took umbrage at his words, for it sounded like he still viewed the men as his enemies. All I wanted was for such perceptions, such preconceived notions of people-versus-people, man-versus-man, to be gone, along with the prospect of further warfare.
“I thought it was your goal, like mine, to bring these countries together,” I accused, letting his hand drop to the mattress between us.
He knew I was annoyed; unlike him, I lacked the ability, and the need, to close off my emotions. I could already feel him pulling back behind that detached facade.
“Alera, that is my goal. But we have to be realistic. For some, our ideal is the worst end imaginable. And the nature of these men pushes them in that direction. If it helps, I found Cannan
to be genuine. That doesn’t mean we can let our guard down, but I would trust him sooner than condemn him.”
I couldn’t even bring myself to resent that he was right. I hated the idea that my aspirations might be different from the people alongside whom I had lived and worked, the people who had saved my life and whose lives I had saved. I didn’t want to lose that camaraderie. I couldn’t, wouldn’t. There were ways to fix things, to allay Narian’s concerns. I would just have to make certain that none of those concerns came to fruition.
Our conversation drifted off, and it wasn’t long before I extinguished the lantern. We kissed once more, then I curled up beside him, my back to his chest, his arm encircling my waist. In Steldor’s company, especially during our marriage, I had been tense and wary, but with Narian, I was at such ease that I fell into sleep more readily than when I lay alone. He was strength and safety; fire and desire; comfort and happiness. In short, he was the man I loved.
CHAPTER TWO:
THE WEIGHT OF SORROW
SHASELLE
“I don’t care!” I stormed, not minding who heard, almost hoping everyone—my siblings, the servants, the entire kingdom—might.
Across the parlor from me, my mother put the heel of her palm to her brow. With the stress I was putting on her, she looked almost fevered, her skin pale and glistening, her eyes marked by circles that could be attributed to consecutive nights with little sleep. I imagined it was difficult enough to rest in a cold and empty bed, and the nightmares my younger brother had been having ever since Papa’s death did nothing to ease matters.