by Cayla Kluver
“I have to, although I don’t suppose you’re too thrilled about any of it.”
Now it was my turn to shrug, though a tiny spark of…I didn’t know what—optimism, relief—ignited within me at the ease with which he recognized my feelings. He wanted to help. At least, some part of me latched onto the belief that he wanted to help.
“Uncle discussed it with me,” I forced myself to say. “It makes sense, the marriage and all.”
“But…” Steldor flourished a hand in front of him, illustrating the drawn-out word.
“But I hate it. More than anything, I hate it. Lord Taether made me see that.”
Steldor nodded, leading me aside as we reached the main roadway to lean against the cool stone wall of a shaded shop, observing the passersby instead of fighting through them.
“I’m sorry. For everything, I mean—not just this.” He turned to me with regret, sympathy and traces of his own hurt upon his face.
I knew how important Papa had been to Steldor. As a four-year-old, after the kidnapping and murder of his baby brother at the hands of the Cokyrians, Steldor had been sent to live with his aunt and uncle for six months. The connection he’d developed with my father had lasted through his wild teenage years, during which time our home had represented an escape for him. While Steldor had a strong, inimitable bond with his own father, mine had been a close friend and confidant, not only for him, but for Cannan, as well. Rather glibly, Papa had pointed out on more than one occasion that there were two sides to every story, and he was guaranteed to hear them both. Steldor had to be feeling the same pain I was.
“I’m sorry, too,” I said brusquely, trying to shake off the automatic constriction of my throat. I wanted to cry in front of Steldor even less than I had wanted to cry in front of Cannan in the barn. I took advantage of the pause to begin a new vein of conversation.
“Steldor, maybe you could try to deter your father, you know, from making arrangements for me so soon. Would another year or two really matter?”
He responded with a dry laugh. “Deter my father? Shaselle, trying to deter my father once he’s made up his mind is like yelling whoa at a stampede of wild horses.”
“Doesn’t stop you,” I muttered, crossing my arms with a huff.
Again that cynical chuckle. “I assure you, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I pushed off the rough stone to stare at him. Annoyance came to me ever more quickly these days, and now the disagreeable temperament my mother and older sister condemned was emerging. I pointed back up the road. “Explain that scarecrow to me, if you’re so obedient! I know your father was upset with you after you posted your rules, but you went ahead anyway, without his blessing.”
Steldor clamped a hand over my mouth, the other holding the back of my neck, then he leaned close to hiss, “I’d prefer if my involvement in both of those incidents remained undisclosed.”
My cheeks burned, and I pushed his hands away. “Sorry. That was stupid. But isn’t there anything you can do? You have the captain’s ear.”
“What I have is his attention,” he corrected, having accepted my apology and brushed aside our tense exchange. “Not intentionally, mind you, but I’ll be keeping it over the next few weeks. He’ll probably be distracted from you anyway.”
“You’re planning another stunt?”
He winked. “Would you expect anything less of Galen and me?”
“Can I help you?”
The up-and-down nature of our conversation persisted, and he shook his head vehemently.
“This is dangerous, what we’ve been doing. We laugh, but these aren’t games. If we’re caught, we’ll be arrested. There’s a reason my father disapproves, in spite of his own ambitions.” He let his rebuff hang in the hot air while I again felt color rising in my cheeks. “Just go home, Shaselle. Put on a dress. Be a lady, and stay out of trouble. Understand?”
“I hate them, too, you know,” I said, his dismissal and the humiliation that came with it rankling me. “It’s not just your homeland that the Cokyrians have sullied—it’s my homeland, too. And those bastards killed my father.”
“And bitches,” he added, catching me off guard. “Wouldn’t want to forget the women.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I gaped at him foolishly until he stepped onto the cobblestone of the thoroughfare.
“Come on. Let me take you home.”
We walked in silence back to the western residential area where I lived, though he stopped at the beginning of my street to let me traverse the rest of the distance by myself.
“I shouldn’t be seen around here. Not where Galen’s assigned—the Cokyrians are trying to keep us apart to avoid plots big and small, and will be suspicious if we’re seen in the same area.”
I nodded and turned to go, but he grabbed my arm.
“I know how you feel, Shaselle. I know you want to do something, and it’s not even that I don’t think you could. I just can’t let you be involved, for the sake of your safety. And mine,” he added as an afterthought. “My father would kill me if I let you help and you came to harm. Just please, let this go, and I swear I’ll do my best to influence him on your marriage issue.”
Now that I was thinking rationally, offering my assistance had been absurd—I had no special skills aside from horseback riding, and certainly no military training, so accepting Steldor’s offered compromise was not difficult.
I left my cousin at the crossroads and meandered homeward. I took my time since, to some degree, I dreaded arriving, and it took me longer than it normally would have to notice the increased number of Cokyrian soldiers on my street.
I lengthened my stride, suddenly wanting to be home, but nothing could have prepared me for what I would find when I arrived. Everyone was outside, near the barn, Mother’s arms coming down over Celdrid’s shoulders to restrain him, while Dahnath stood with the younger girls gathered around her. I rushed forward, and Galen stepped out of the stone building. When he saw me, a terrifying sort of sympathy rushed into his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I didn’t need to ponder the reason for his apology, for three Cokyrians, a man and two women, all dressed in black, appeared behind him. The first woman held a scroll, while the second woman and the man each led a horse. One was my father’s prized stallion; the other was Papa’s beloved young mare, Briar, whom he had raised from a filly and trained himself. The mere thought of these filthy Cokyrians laying a hand on any of my father’s mounts was enough to make me sick.
“Take them,” the officer with the scroll commanded. She had bronze hair, pale blue eyes and freckles across her thin nose—a nose I wanted to break.
“No!” I snarled, jumping forward to reclaim those invaluable animals. They belonged to Papa; I couldn’t lose them, I couldn’t let them go. He had loved them, and I could see him and hear his voice when I watched them, and at no other time. But Galen caught me about the waist, using his entire body to hold me back. I kicked and hit at him while the Cokyrians led my father’s favorite horses away.
“Stop!” I screamed, not even sounding like myself, desperation and rage leaving me hoarse and raspy. “No!”
“Shaselle, there’s nothing we can do!” Galen said, raising his voice to counter my shrieks. “The Cokyrians lost mounts during the fighting, and the High Priestess has authorized the taking of our best stock to supply their military. Baelic’s are the very best.”
I melted against him, devoid of strength, m
y breathing quick and shallow. Then I looked past his shoulder and saw the bronze-haired officer standing there, tapping the scroll against the open palm of her other hand.
“I will make you sorry, I swear to God,” I vowed.
She appraised me for a moment, unimpressed.
“Her Grace the High Priestess thanks you for your cooperation,” she informed us, the haughty inflection of her voice grating on my nerves. She strode past me, but reached out to tug a strand of my hair, letting me know I was nothing more than a little girl.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
AN UNUSUAL MORNING
ALERA
Steldor and Galen had struck again, only this time even I had to laugh at their antics. Besides, it would have been difficult to mar my mood following the betrothal ceremony. Narian and I were bound together, and however secretly it had been done, it was, in my mind, the most significant event of my life. We would never be separated again.
My first appointment this day was, as always, with Cannan. I stepped into the corridor outside my quarters, happily fingering the ring that hung on a chain around my neck, and almost bumped into London. He had taken my advice about spending more time away from the Bastion and so was less frequently waiting for me when I started my day.
“You startled me,” I said with a nervous laugh, hastily dropping the betrothal band. My hand hung inelegantly in the air for a moment, and heat raced to my face and ears. London considered me for a moment, then boldly reached out to pick up the ring and examine it.
“This is nice,” he remarked as I stood completely still. “Different.”
“I…b-bought it,” I stammered. “Yesterday. While you were away.”
He raised an eyebrow to remind me he wasn’t daft, but thankfully didn’t question my lie.
“We’d better be going, Your Highness. Cannan is waiting for you in his office.”
Feeling self-conscious, I led the way through the hallway and down the Grand Staircase, but we were intercepted before we reached our destination.
“London, I need a word.”
I turned around to find Halias with a hand on my bodyguard’s shoulder. He looked tired, but there was strength of will in his light blue eyes and, I knew, a distinct purpose for him to be in the Bastion.
“Of course,” London said, his attitude sobering.
Halias gave me a respectful nod, and London motioned me toward the captain’s office, then the two former deputy captains strode off. I tucked my betrothal ring into the neckline of my dress so no one else would see it and stood indecisively in place, musing that I had sunk quite low on everyone’s priority list. Then a new concern blossomed. London knew the ring’s significance, I had no doubt. Could that fact have ramifications? Would he share what he had learned with anyone else? He wouldn’t want my relationship with Narian to become widely known, for such news would upset the citizenry. But if he told anyone, the word might spread. Someone might overhear. Deciding Cannan could wait a few minutes longer, I hurried back up the double staircase on the off-chance Narian might still be in his quarters.
I went straight down the corridor into the West Wing, proceeding toward my old rooms, but slowed when I heard voices ahead. I darted into the small dining room where my family took its meals and held my breath, having stumbled upon Rava and Narian in heated debate. I doubted either of them had noticed me, so I dared to stay and listen.
“Orders come through me.”
“Orders come from the High Priestess, and both you and I are tasked with carrying them out,” Rava rebutted. “If you were not so insecure in your command, you would be pleased that I took care of a problem in your stead.”
“You created a problem, Rava. Alera and I are trying to placate these people—”
“Alera, Alera. All I ever hear from you is Alera.”
“She is essential to our goals, is she not?”
Narian had grown defensive, and I prayed that Rava would not be able to detect the subtle change in his tone. He was usually adept at hiding his feelings, but the topic had caught him off guard. I couldn’t fathom what would come of Rava discovering our relationship, nor did I care to find out.
“She is,” Rava granted, dropping the issue, and I was relieved she did not know him as well as I did.
“Then let’s come to it,” Narian pressed. “We follow the High Priestess’s orders, but how and when those orders are carried out is my responsibility. Through angering these people by stealing their horses, you destroyed any progress I may have made toward quieting their rebellions. And if you carry out an order without my knowledge again, I will see you dismissed.”
There was a tense pause, then Rava’s equally tight voice gave response.
“Do you really think you could, Narian? Have me dismissed? How have you served the High Priestess other than as a weapon and a problem?”
“I will not let you ruin what we have started, Rava.”
I heard a door shut and Rava’s light footsteps coming in my direction, and I stepped to the side of the doorway, flattening my back against the wall, not wanting to be detected. She passed the room in which I hid, oblivious to my presence, and continued down the corridor toward the Grand Staircase.
I waited a moment longer, then followed after her. A rush of warm air from the opening and closing of the front doors hit me upon reaching the second floor landing of the staircase, and I peered over the railing to see her step outside, perhaps to regroup after her confrontation with her commander. Regardless, I wasn’t sorry to see her go. Then Cannan emerged from his office, glancing around, and I realized that he was looking for me. Deciding my worries about London would have to wait until later, I descended to meet the captain at the bottom of the stairs.
“You seem flustered, Your Majesty. Has something happened?”
“No, not really. It’s just been an unusual morning.”
“I see. Well, let’s move into my office and gain some privacy.”
I nodded and we walked through the antechamber to access Cannan’s office along the east side of the Hearing Hall. As usual, he settled into the chair behind his desk, while I sat facing him, although I had of late been using the padded armchair. It made me feel more like we were working together and less like I was under scrutiny.
“Do you want to tell me about your unusual morning or get right to work?” Cannan asked, wasting no time on small talk.
I reviewed the past half hour in my mind, and decided there was something upon which he could shed light.
“There is one thing. When London and I were on our way here, we came upon Halias. He wanted to speak with London, and they went off together. Only I found Halias’s manner troubling—he was tired and grave, not at all himself. Which makes me think his business with London was rather important. Yet I’m not aware of any issues affecting the province that would bring them together. Do you know what they might be doing?”
Cannan moved his chair forward, resting his forearms upon the surface of his desk. “You sound suspicious, Alera. Do you not trust them?”
I could feel my neck and cheeks turning scarlet. “No—no, that’s not it. I would trust them with my life, but I worry that they may stir up trouble, like Steldor and Galen.”
“I see. Remember that these are seasoned Elite Guards, hardly the type to play pranks.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply.” I was becoming more and more out of sorts, and wished I had not raised the topic.
“But to answer your questi
on, I don’t know of any official business that involves the two of them. And Halias, like the rest of us, has had little to smile about of late. On the other hand, he and London are friends, and it’s possible Halias sought him out for something as simple as a hunting trip. Since London is your bodyguard, he’d have to come to the Bastion to do so. Hunting is one of the few pursuits the men are allowed that lets them retain some dignity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our military, the Palace Guards and the City Guards have all been disbanded. Our prized horses and other possessions have been seized by the Cokyrians. We’re not allowed to carry weapons of any sort, our persons and our homes are randomly searched, and we cannot move freely in and out of the city. We’re being turned into tradesmen or field hands, with no ability to protect ourselves or our loved ones. When we hunt, we at least can breathe the fresh air, move through the forest and the foothills, provide meat for our families and teach our sons something about weaponry.”
I nodded, for the first time understanding the demoralizing effect of the High Priestess’s regulations. As Cannan saw it, the restrictions went to the heart of our way of life, while I had viewed them as removing a few privileges. I had never before considered that the rules affected our men to a much greater extent than they did our women.
“Is there anything else, Alera?” Cannan asked.
“No, nothing other than our usual business.”
I tried to smile, wanting to move on to a different topic. But as Cannan sorted through some papers on his desk, I realized I needed to take hold of the reins, as London had suggested, before the tension the men were feeling became unbearable.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
HYTANICAN COLORS
SHASELLE
I wasn’t a helpless little girl. And if Steldor and Galen could do it, so could I. Perhaps something on a smaller scale, and a little less likely to rile the authorities; more of a practical joke, really. It would have to be simple, for I had no military training. These thoughts chased round and round in my head over the next couple of days. They did not, however, point me in a particular direction. In order to prove I wasn’t a helpless little girl, in order to get back at the Cokyrians, I needed an idea. I needed a plan of action.