Sacrifice

by Cayla Kluver

  “What is it?” I encouraged, taking his hand.

  “It’s not important.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Alera, if I’m saying it’s not important, it’s not. Trust me.”

  “Trust me.” There was a pause during which we stared into each other’s eyes, testing to see who would relent. “You can tell me whatever it is, Narian. You can tell me anything.”

  He exhaled—almost a laugh—and broke eye contact. “I know that, but it’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

  “Neither is it as hard as you make it sound.” I reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Just say it. I promise I’ll keep it secret from the proper authorities.”

  Although I was joking with him, the reason for his reluctance was no laughing matter. The Overlord had tried to train Narian not to feel; he’d succeeded in teaching him not to reveal his feelings. I waited, praying he would for once abandon that godforsaken instinct.

  “Do you think it’s too late for…for my family? Enough has happened to make it too late. I mean, I’ve done enough.”

  “You’ll never stop taking the blame for everything, will you?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration from my voice.

  “I’m just looking at it from their perspective, Alera.”

  “I know.”

  I sighed, realizing he wanted that family, wanted a mother and father and siblings, despite how much effort he put into convincing me that I was all he needed.

  “I’ve seen you with your family,” he said, luring me away from the conclusion I had drawn. “Those connections are of importance in Hytanica, and whatever I can do to gain acceptance here is in our best interests. But perhaps it’s too late for that.”

  He had no idea that I could see the boy in his deep blue eyes; that I knew how he was truly feeling. I played along, not wanting him to shut down.

  “No, it’s not too late,” I said, sounding more certain than I felt, and his face subtly brightened. “I don’t know about your father—about Koranis.” I corrected how I referred to the Baron, endeavoring to keep emotional connection to this discussion at a minimum, for that was what Narian was trying to do. “But Alantonya. While you were in the mountains, missing, I spoke to her. She was worried about you. She wanted you to come back, and prayed you were safe. I don’t think she has ever stopped loving you.”

  Though he hardly moved, I could feel him pull back from the conversation, almost as though someone had blown out a candle and left me in the dark.

  “Narian?” I said in confusion, but he was unreadable.

  “She never loved me.”

  The comment was so perfunctory it jarred me, and it took me a few moments to realize that, to his mind, it was easier to believe he’d never been loved than to consider that he might have been loved and lost it.

  * * *

  I woke early the next morning, though not early enough to see Narian off. He’d had a restless night, his mind undoubtedly on the things I’d said. I wished that I’d done a better job of advising him—he wouldn’t know how to forge a connection with his family, and I didn’t think it likely he would revisit the topic after the way last night’s conversation had ended. I was left perplexed, fretful and with the distinct feeling that there was nothing else I could do.

  I dressed and left for the captain’s office, even though it was earlier than I usually met with him, for I needed to occupy my thoughts. Cannan was standing in the entryway, speaking with a Cokyrian guard, as I came down the Grand Staircase, but he waved the woman away when he heard my approach. We were about to proceed to his office when the front doors swung open and Steldor strode in, his face etched with worry.

  My former husband’s gaze went to Cannan, not acknowledging me in any way. This alone told me something was wrong, for he tended to be either overly polite around me or overly familiar. Ignoring me was not his style. He strode close to his father, wary of speaking in the presence of the Cokyrian sentries posted on either side of the doors.

  “I have to tell you something,” Steldor muttered, his voice urgent.

  “My office.”

  “There’s no time.” Steldor grasped Cannan’s jerkin at the shoulder, momentarily losing control of his volume. With a mighty effort, he dropped his voice, then elaborated. “Shaselle’s been arrested. I don’t know what they’ll do to her, except that they will try to blame her for everything…every prank that’s been played. You have to—”

  Cannan shirked off his son’s hand and strode toward the front doors without a word.

  “What will you do?” Steldor called after him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  At this, Cannan whipped around. “You’ll stay here. Lost tempers won’t help anything.”

  “I won’t lose my temper.”

  “And if you would only do what I ask, we might not be in this situation.”

  The former military leader departed, leaving his son standing in place, jaw clenched. After a moment, Steldor followed, and I found myself alone at the base of the staircase, trying to comprehend what I had heard. Shaselle? Arrested? My hands shook as I thought of what the Cokyrians might do to her. In the current state of unrest, they meted out punishment like a baker kneaded his dough—thoroughly, forcefully and daily.

  Ignoring the Cokyrian guards’ suspicious looks, I flew up the Grand Staircase, hoping Narian would still be in his quarters. What could Cannan do? He had no authority in the Province of Hytanica, no way to affect Cokyrian forms of justice, nor did I. If they felt like executing Shaselle, they would. That poor family had lost too much already.

  Without care for decorum or protocol, I rushed through the door into Narian’s parlor to find him near the hearth, strapping a dagger and sheath to his forearm. He stared at me in alarm, and I gasped for breath, then blurted out what I had overheard.

  “You must help,” I pleaded. He strode past me heading into the corridor, and I called after him. “Wait, I’ll go with you!”

  He stopped and faced me, his brow furrowed.

  “No, Alera, you can’t. The High Priestess gave us two realms of responsibility. Yours is here, in the Bastion, seeing to the welfare of the Hytanican citizens. Mine is to command the peacekeeping forces and enforce her rules. This is my business, not yours. My effectiveness may even be hampered if you come with me.”

  I nodded and watched him depart, leaving me with hope but no concrete idea of what he intended to do.

  CHAPTER TEN:

  NOT GOOD AT ALL

  SHASELLE

  I had evaluated the situation from every angle, and there was no other conclusion to draw than that I was in serious trouble. The room in which I sat was furnished with a wooden table in its center, with but one barred window to let in light. I was on one side, my hands shackled to the legs of my chair, and across from me were two Cokyrian women, their faces set and their intent clearly to glean information from me.

  No, this was not good at all.

  My shirt and breeches were splattered with blue dye, my hands stained—there was no disguising my guilt, and the wenches knew it.

  “You think you’re a smart little girl, don’t you?” said the first one, a short-haired brunette. “A smart little girl playing a funny game. We don’t play games.”

  “Wasn’t it a game to you, murdering our military leaders?” I retorted, bolder than I should have been, and in a flash the second soldier’s palm met my cheek
, nearly knocking me over. For a moment, I felt numb, dazed, then my cheek flamed and I could almost feel my lip begin to swell. So far, my vengeance was not panning out according to plan.

  “You’ve been sly up ’til now,” the brunette went on in a snarl. “Why so foolish last night? Emotions finally get the best of you?”

  I kept my mouth shut, horrified that the stunt I had attempted had led them to assume I was responsible for them all.

  The brunette snatched my chin and forced me to look at her, squeezing so hard I thought my jaw would break.

  “Listen when I’m talking to you, child.”

  I quivered, fighting the bile rising in my throat. I was a stupid, stupid girl. And now I was going to pay for it.

  “Please,” I said with difficulty, her grip on my face inhibiting my speech.

  “Please?” The woman laughed, releasing me and shoving me so hard my spine cracked against the chair, and a small cry escaped from me. “You break into our stables, dye our horses’ tails and hooves the color of your defeated kingdom, get caught, and now are foolish enough to beg? You may go to your silly heaven when you die, but until then I’ll see that you’re in hell for what you’ve done.”

  I was terrified and nauseated, scrambling to find a way out of my straits. There was none. I was at their mercy, and mercy was something the slaughter of our officers had shown they didn’t understand.

  “I didn’t do those other things,” I said, sniffling though I wished I could stop and be brave like Steldor would have been. The opening and closing of the door barely caught my notice, for it was only another Cokyrian, probably to take me to the stocks or the dungeon.

  “Yes, you did,” the brunette insisted, leaning close and staring into my hazel eyes. “Confess, and you will be executed for your crimes. Fail to do so and your punishment will be far worse.”

  I was on the verge of saying goodbye to my pride in favor of openly weeping and groveling when the soldier who had entered, a man not much older than me, spoke up.

  “She bungled this attempt so miserably that you know she couldn’t be responsible for the rest. I understand it’s not your field, but try to have some compassion, Corza. You’ve got her scared to death.”

  The brunette froze, displeased. Without looking at the newest arrival, she said, “What are you doing here, Saadi?”

  “Rava wants her lashed, then brought back here to see if her tongue has loosened enough to reveal the identities of the true culprits. I’m to see to her punishment.”

  Corza’s lips pursed, irked that this young officer was interfering with her tactics. But she stood regardless.

  “Take her.”

  The man walked over to me and released me from the chair, his light blue eyes assessing me. He yanked me to my feet, but I didn’t fight him, despite how frightened I was by the idea of a lashing—I could survive a lashing. In my experience, very few people survived execution.

  He took me past the two women who had been interrogating me and out the door into a hallway. When we passed through a second door, I recognized the main room of the City Guards’ headquarters, where the Master at Arms had been in charge prior to the Cokyrian takeover. Now it crawled with enemies, with one exception—my uncle Cannan was there, demanding to see me.

  He abandoned the enemy officer he had been addressing the moment he noticed me, and came to block our progress.

  “Shaselle, are you all right?” he asked, voice low and rumbling, like a gathering storm.

  I nodded, my heart beating unevenly as it battled the hope that he could somehow save me—even Cannan had little clout in these times. Saadi spoke before I did.

  “She is to be lashed, eight times for the eight horses she damaged. We will send for you when she is released.”

  “She’s just a girl, not a soldier and certainly not a warrior,” my uncle argued. “She was angry, she was foolish, she wanted to act. Surely you, and your superiors, can have sympathy for that.”

  “I have respect for it, in fact.”

  “Then you want something else from her.”

  “Our business and intentions are confidential, as I’m sure yours were when you were Captain of the Guard.”

  “Tell me what you want, and I will provide it.”

  Saadi relinquished his hold on me and crossed his arms, considering my uncle. He was several inches taller than me, though he wasn’t particularly brawny, but Cannan still had the stature to glare down on him.

  “We can make a deal,” Saadi said. “Turn in whoever is responsible for ridiculing Her Grace the High Priestess’s regulations and for the assault of a Cokyrian soldier in order to create that disgusting scarecrow. Do that and I will release her without punishment.”

  “Are you in a position to do so?”

  Saadi nodded once, without elaboration.

  “Very well. I am the party responsible. Let her go and take me into custody.”

  My jaw dropped and some idiotic protest rose to my lips, to be drowned out by another male voice.

  “You are accounted for, Cannan. Do not arrest him—he is lying.”

  Saadi, Cannan and I looked around to see Commander Narian, the infamous boy-invader, striding over to us. Hatred rose within me at the sight of him. He had been at the Overlord’s side when my father and the others had been lined up for slaughter, and he hadn’t done a thing to stop it.

  “Commander,” Saadi greeted him, but this was ignored by Narian, who instead issued orders.

  “There’s nothing to be gained by this. Free her.”

  “Rava will be displeased,” Saadi warned. “The High Priestess will be displeased.”

  “The longer you argue, the more displeased I will be. How do you think the Hytanicans will react to our making an example of a young woman? Release her. I will report the matter to the High Priestess.”

  This time when my Cokyrian captor glanced at me, I dared to look back, noticing his bronze hair and the freckles that danced across his nose. I shifted self-consciously, unable to believe that I was thinking of my appearance. Damn Cokyrians and their damn freckles.

  Saadi took my hands and unshackled me, and I examined the unusual lock that had held me. It was made of several small metal wheels, completely unlike the locks we had in Hytanica. When the wheels had been turned to display the proper characters, the cuffs fell off and I was free.

  For a moment. With a swift nod to Saadi and Narian, Cannan grasped my wrist none too gently and pulled me through the door, out onto the busy thoroughfare. He did not slow down to speak to me or to accommodate the length of my legs, nor did he stop until someone shouted his name.

  “Cannan!”

  Narian was behind us, pushing through the milling crowd, and my uncle awaited him impatiently.

  “I appreciate what you did,” Cannan said when the enemy commander reached us. “But don’t expect me to thank you for it.”

  Normally the former captain would not have been so cold, but anger at me was seeping into his attitude.

  “I didn’t come after you for thanks. I came to warn you. Keep her out of trouble, keep Steldor and Galen out of trouble, make certain nothing can be traced back to you. I can appease the High Priestess for now, but the moment I can no longer do so, you will all be dead.”

  My mind and body froze as I attempted to comprehend Narian’s words. Were we really such a danger in the High Priestess’s eyes? Could I have gotten my uncle and cousin killed with my rash actions?

  “I know.” That was all Cannan
said, but his hold on my wrist became more painful.

  Narian nodded, and the men locked eyes for a moment, then Cannan once more headed off with me in tow.

  “Uncle…” I tried to talk, but he did not halt, nor was he in a mood to listen; neither did he address me until we were approaching the path to my house.

  “Go to the stable and wait for me there,” he ordered. “I must speak with your mother.”

  He let go of me and I stumbled in the direction of the barn, which still housed three horses but nonetheless felt dreary and hollow without my father’s prized mounts. I went inside, humiliation making my stomach swirl, tiredness causing my temples to hurt, and fear of my uncle’s wrath urging me toward the back window. If I ran away, maybe I would never have to face him. I could live on the streets or sneak over the Cokyrian Wall and actually be at liberty. But in reality, I would never make it if I ran.

  Tears filled my eyes, and I kicked a bucket that was half-full of grain, sending it soaring into the door of Briar’s vacant stall, its contents scattering across the floor. At the same moment, I heard the barn door open, and pivoted to face Cannan, the fight inside of me once more burning.

  The captain’s face was inscrutable, but his eyes bored into me, almost physically painful in their intensity. When he spoke, his tone was severe enough to make a hundred soldiers cower, but I refused to do so.

  “If you ever step out of your place again, I will have you betrothed within a week to a man who will keep you, and keep you well.”

  “Let him try,” I retorted, maintaining some distance between us, though I was fairly certain he would not strike me.

  “There is far more at stake here than your well-being, Shaselle. I can’t fathom what you were thinking.”

  I tugged at my hair and almost wailed in frustration. “I was thinking that I’m not useless! I was thinking that my father is dead and no one is doing a thing to avenge him. I was thinking that Steldor is the only one brave enough to stand up to the Cokyrians, and it’s still not good enough. So I thought, what the hell do I have to lose?”